Page 131

I gently toss it in the most cushioned area I can half assed spot.

“Helmet.”

That order receives a quirked brow.

“Relax,” he smugly insists. “You can wear your bitch’s instead.” An arrogant grin arises. “I already know it doesn’t have Bluetooth.”

No tracking devices.

Smart.

Not smart enough for what we have planned.

But still.

Smart.

Removing the item from my bike precedes me carefully rolling it to meet my abandoned phone.

“And now…” he wiggles the object he removed from his pocket, “a magic trick.”

Amusement doesn’t bother entertaining the idea of crossing my expression.

“For each additional tracking related device I find,” a Walther PDP is swiftly revealed, “I put a bullet in you.”

Flinching isn’t even considered.

Fuck, neither is blinking.

Once he can see I’m clearly unbothered by his threat, I allow a long, thick cloud of smoke to seep free from the corner of my mouth.

“I like you,” states the psychopath, wand wiggling near my face. “You’re fun.”

And he’s dead.

Rolling the device across my frame is a tedious process yet allows me to take momentary stock of my surroundings, including seeing Noodle pounding both paws against her bedroom window.

Oh, thankfuck, he’s alright.

Getting her kidnapped and her cat killed would definitely have her rethinking this whole be with me forever shit.

“You’re clean,” my adversary announces post scanning the outside of the bag, “so’s the cash.”

“I know.”

He tucks the mini baton back into his pocket and motions to the discard pile, “Gun.”

“No.”

“Leave it here.”

“I’ll leave it on my bike when we get to wherever it is we’re going.”

“You’re riding with me.”

“Fuck,” I ash my cig, “no.”

“Not a request.”