My shoulder gives out a second later as squealing tires fill my ears, and Lars hauls me to my feet before I’m run over. There are snatches of everything happening around me—a shout, St. Clare swearing, the car horns louder out here—that when the door to the car flies open, I don’t realize at first that it’s my car and Tommy’s sitting behind the wheel.

“Right on time, Perry.” He grins, and I shove St. Clare into the back seat ahead of me while Lars jumps into the front.

A shot hits the back windshield of my baby, shattering the glass into pieces.

“Might be a good time to drive,” I say weakly.

Tommy steps on the gas.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

ST. CLARE

What the fuck is going on?

I’m still panting as we fly downtown in a car that’s half-deranged, a stranger taking us who knows where and Perry wheezing so hard he sounds like a squeak toy has been lodged in his throat.

Oh. And he’s bleeding.

Wonderful.

“Who is this? Where are we going? And what the hell just happened?”

Perry loudly inhales, hair so sweaty it looks wet, as he reaches behind himself and pulls off his backpack, teeth clenched tight in pain.

“Got shot.”

“I can see that.” And as much as I’d love to remind him that he put me through the same, I can’t. I don’t like seeing Perry’s face anything but happy, and right now, it’s pinched with tension, and his big eyes hold a worry so deep I want a word with whoever put it there.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” I say.

“No hospitals,” the driver throws back.

“He’s bleeding.”

“It’s his shoulder. It’ll be fine.”

“How the hell could you know what?”

The driver laughs. “You ask a lot of questions.” Then he turns up the radio.

Perry tugs open the zipper on his bag and digs around inside for a second before pulling out his phone. It’s an old thing. Bright, metallic pink, with a tiny screen on the part that flips open.

I snatch it from him. “Answer me.”

Perry’s actually shaking. “I went to the lobby to check on Walter. There were two guys there, and they were holding Margot and Elle at gunpoint. I need to make sure they got away okay.”

Before I can hand the phone back, it rings. Perry’s big, warm hand closes around mine as he takes the phone from me and snaps it open.

As soon as I make out Margot’s voice from the tinny speaker, I relax a fraction. She’s okay. I can feel it in the way Perry’s whole body relaxes.

They barely say more than a few words before he hangs up. His phone is gripped loosely in the hand resting on his thigh when he sags back and closes his eyes.