Ahead, a green space opened up: several blocks of trees, rolling grass, even a fountain. Francis Park. Jesus, had they really come that far? They’d left the Southampton behind and were heading into St. Louis Hills.

A massive truck rolled through the intersection ahead just as the puppy darted out. Shaw’s heart leapt into his throat and he put on the gas, sprinting after the dog. He was too far back. He’d never reach the dog in time.

Then, by some miracle, the puppy veered around the truck and pranced happily up onto the sidewalk on the other side of the street.

Shaw was halfway through the intersection before he heard the horn. An old Cutlass swung right, the fender clipping Shaw and sending him stumbling onto the verge. He landed hard, a shock going up his arm, while a numb spot on his thigh bloomed into a sudden, intense ache.

“Whoa,” said a voice. “Holy shit. Are you ok?”

Shaw lay on the ground and closed his eyes. He liked the smell of the dead leaves. He liked the cool tickle of the grass. Maybe North would put him somewhere like this after he killed him.

“Hey, you ok?”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus, that was freaky. That guy was insane; you could have been killed.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m a dead man anyway.” Shaw blinked up at the golden span of sky. “I lost him. He’s gone.”

“Are you talking about this little guy?”

A tiny, wet tongue roved across Shaw’s face. Sputtering, Shaw sat up.

The guy was cute.

Ok.

The guy was hot. American boy-next-door hot, with a ratty tank and mesh shorts. In one hand, he held Air Pods that he must have removed to talk to Shaw. In the other, he held the puppy, who was currently going to town licking sweat off the guy.

“Oh my God.”

The guy laughed, twisting away as the puppy attacked his neck. “He’s yours?”

“For tonight, I guess. Oh my God, you caught him.”

“He’s cute. Came right up to me.”

“He’s a nightmare. I’ve been chasing him for miles.”

“Well,” the guy said, biting the corner of his mouth in an adorable grin. “Maybe he was just looking for the right guy. I’m Gus, by the way.”

“Shaw.”

“Nice to meet you, Shaw.”

Gus was giving eye contact. Lots of eye contact.

“Oh,” Shaw said. “Um.”

“Did that asshole actually hit you?”

“Just kind of brushed me.”

“Jesus. I saw how hard you hit the ground. Do you think anything’s broken?”

Shaw rotated his wrist and wiggled his fingers. The ache still went all the way to his shoulder, but he could move everything. His butt was another story; the throb seemed to go all the way to the bone, and when Shaw shifted and tried to get up, the throb of pain redoubled and he rolled back onto the grass.