Page 73 of Into the Fire: After
I didn’t, though. It was…almost a rush.
With a fortifying breath, I stood to my fullest height—all sixty-two inches of it—and pulled my shoulders back. Going for confident, take-no-shit, knows-what-she’s-doing.
“Yep. Got ‘em?”
“Got cash?”
With a silent prayer, I uncurled my fingers from the stabber thingy and grabbed the cash that also lay in that pocket to hand it over. He took it, counting it quickly.
“You’re short.”
“What?” I half-shouted. “No way. One month, one-fifty. I counted it three times.”
“Price went up,” he said. “One-seventy-five.”
“The fuck?” Of course it did. And of course I’d come with exact cash which, in hindsight, was stupid because whywouldn'tI expect a drug dealer to scam me?I ran my free hand through my hair. “I don’t have twenty-five more.”
“Then you don’t have a deal.” He turned to leave.
“Wait! Wait,” I called, hurrying after him. “Just…just gimme a second here, okay?”
Smelling desperation, he paused, giving me time to work through the exactly zero backup plans I had. My fingers clenched around my personal alarm.
Shelf price, eighteen-ninety-nine.
And pokey stick, twelve-eighty-nine.
“Okay, I need fifteen minutes and I’ll have it. Stay, like, right here.”
“Shoot, hon,” he said with a skeezy smirk, “stay right here, you’ll have it in half that time.”
I suppressed a shiver and pasted a wan smile on my face. “Sorry. I have murphrees. It’s like herpes but worse. Super contagious. And painful. And deadly. Nothing you want.” Before he could claim that he, too, was afflicted with the entirely fictional murphrees, I bolted back into the mall.
Personal alarm: returned.
Those nerves I’d expected earlier? Yep, they’d arrived, all squirmy in my belly like worms after a rainstorm.
Should I even go back out there?
Was this the part of the horror movie where I had the chance to get away clean, only to waltz right back into the monster’s lair, to the fury of everyone watching at home?
Potentially.
An omega in need,I reminded myself.Someone else is alreadyintheir monster’s lair. They need this.
On my way to return my metal bestie Jabby McStabby, my phone rang.
Brooks.
Shit.
“Hey sweetness,” he said the moment I picked up. “You look cute today.”
I froze, eyes scanning the crowd until a familiar head of curls caught my eye.
Fuck fuck fuck fuuuuuuuu—
Thirty
