Rare Vigilance (Whitethorn Agency)

He dialed Helias, but the man didn’t answer. There was only one other person he could think of who might be able to help quickly. He found Cristian resting his elbows on the dashboard so he could peer up at the sky. “Can you call Ioana?” Atlas asked, noting the pale blues overhead. “We have two flats, so she’ll need to come get us.”

Cristian fumbled pulling his phone out. “What?”

“You heard me. Shittiest luck ever,” he lied, trying to ease Cristian’s worries. Two flats the same night, on the tires that were hardest to see from the door into the club... This wasn’t bad luck. This screamed something else, something bad, and he needed to focus and keep Cristian safe while they figured it out. “At least Ioana can drop them off and come back for us.”

“I don’t know if we’ll make it back in time,” Cristian said, voice tight with worry.

The same fear dug into Atlas’s heart, but he couldn’t give in to it yet. “We’ll still get back.” Atlas pointed at Cristian’s phone. “Call her.”

He used his own phone to check for a rideshare, but found no one in the area. A little more concerned, he started to look up cab companies when Cristian began speaking. Ioana must have answered finally.

“Put it on speaker,” Atlas told Cristian.

He did, and Atlas caught the tail end of her frantic “—the hell is going on over there?”

“Two of our tires are flat and we can’t get back to the house. I need you to come pick us up.”

“Atlas, we aren’t home yet. I won’t have time to get back to Rapture and then home before—”

Cristian growled something under his breath and unbuckled his belt, ripping free of it as he dragged himself out of the car. He ignored Atlas’s call for him to calm down and kicked the flat rear tire, spewing Romanian so fast Atlas couldn’t tell where one word ended and another began.

“Ioana, I need to go,” Atlas said and hung up.

Cristian had run out of steam by the time Atlas got close enough to hand back his phone. He accepted it without a word and leaned against the car.

“Hey,” Atlas said, nudging Cristian with his elbow, “I promised I’d get you back safely and I will. If we need to, we’ll hang out inside Rapture until nightfall. We’ll make this work.”

Cristian sighed, but didn’t argue. It was encouragement enough for Atlas to urge him up and herd him back toward the building. They were almost to the door when it opened and a lanky young man stepped out. He blinked when he spotted them and gave an awkward wave. “Umm, hi. You need something?”

“Flat tires,” Atlas called back.

“I don’t suppose you could give us a ride?” Cristian asked.

The man looked from Cristian to Atlas and back to Cristian. “I’ve just got my bike here, man.”

“Cozy. I promise I know how to ride,” Cristian said and stepped forward.

The entendre he’d thrown out—maybe deliberately, maybe not—definitely short-circuited the other man’s brain. The club employee’s eyes widened a bit and he gave Cristian a lingering look that made Atlas want to throw the useless car keys at him.

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; “So,” Cristian said, moving even closer, “will you help? I’d make it worth your while.”

“You would?” the young guy asked, staring as though the world had narrowed itself down to Cristian alone.

Enough. If Cristian was dead set on getting home before dawn, Atlas would ensure it happened. He didn’t need anyone else to do it for him. He stalked forward. The man finally looked over and squeaked in dismay. Atlas pulled out his wallet and fished for the emergency cash he kept behind his driver’s license. He held it up in front of the young man’s face.

“We would be very grateful if you’d loan us your bike for an hour,” he said. And, because he was feeling petty, he added, “I’m sure Mr. Vladislavic would also appreciate you offering your assistance so I can get his son home.”

“M-Mr. Vladislavic?”

Atlas offered a cool smile. “The owner of Rapture, yes. I’ll make sure he knows how much you helped us...” He trailed off, lifting a hand to indicate he wanted the man’s name.

The guy picked up faster this time. “L-Leroy.”

“Thanks, Leroy. I’ll make sure Mr. Vladislavic knows he can thank you personally. Keys?”

The man scrambled to pull them out of his pocket. Atlas ignored Cristian’s soft chuckle behind him. Leroy started to hand the keys over, then paused, and looked over Atlas’s shoulder to Cristian.