He kept on straight, then at the very last chance, wrenched the cycle into the turn, skidding crazily on the flooded pavement, nearly spilling us. Just because he could. But then we were inside, out of the punishing rain, into the concealing darkness, cruising up the ramp. The rain would cover our engine noise until the Soukies caught up. At the rear of Level Two, Dark Boy braked, backed up, then nudged me roughly off.

“Hold this.”

The pail, and its now sodden contents. I swayed, dizzy with speed and fright.

Dark Boy eyed me. “Not gonna crap out on me, are you?”

I snatched the pail from him. “I’m fine.”

My chance to run. Now, while he struggled to hide the heavy three-wheeler between the outer concrete wall and a tall tangle of discarded car parts. I could slip off to the room. If he came after, I could lock him out. But I didn’t. For all his threats, he hadn’t dumped me in the street. He’d groused about my destination but had taken it on. And so far, not the slightest hint of sexual aggression.

If he was Daniel’s project, I had to honor that. And keep in mind that he was not whoever he reminded me of.

I frowned at the pail. “What d’you think happened after we left?”

“Hellfire and brimstone.”

Not funny. “We deserted him.”

He put his shoulder to a bumper, heaving it aside to widen the slot. “He’ll be fine.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“ ’Cause I am.”

Whatever their history, Dark Boy wasn’t ready to share it. When he’d shoved the bike as far in as he could, he dragged over a rusted car door to close the gap. He came away, dusting his palms, then turned back, reluctant to abandon his means of quick escape. Outside, the downpour eased. We heard the saw-buzz of electric motors coming up fast.

Dark Boy faced me. His hair drew inky streaks across his forehead. His cheeks were smooth and wind-blushed. Maybe even younger than I’d thought. “You better be leading me straight, den rat.”

I felt I had his number now. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Are we chatting or finding cover?”

I jerked my head. “This way.”

The stairs were easier in daylight. We scurried down while I scrabbled in my gut wallet for the key. The Soukie trikes pulled up outside just as we rounded the curve of the upward ramp and dropped into its deepest shadow. No help from the rain now, so we moved like mice, down the steps into the little triangle of darkness at the door to my hide-hole. Dark Boy was good. Moved quiet as a picker.

Muttered debate drifted in from the street. “In there? Whaddya think?”

“Waste of time.”

“Maybe not.”

“We’ll lose him, waiting around here.”

“Take a quick look. Might flush him out.”