I had other things to occupy my mind.
I was assuming Mag had heard our conversation, so he, and the guys, were going to have something planned for Glazed & Confused. And I knew they knew what they were doing, but I was still worried because I didn’t know if Cisco’s guys knew the same.
I could almost guarantee my dad was going to be at Glazed & Confused and he was going to pull something.
Further, there was little doubt there would be a number of customers at Glazed & Confused. Innocent bystanders who had no idea the perpetrators behind the firefight played out in Cherry Creek mall earlier that day were going to show and, very likely, obliterate their happy, donut good times.
And my life, and the lives of my friends, were in the hands of a bad guy who killed a cop who clearly really liked me.
He finished doing whatever he was doing on his phone and called, “Evan?”
I was noting the town car was slowing to a stop.
But we weren’t at Glazed & Confused.
We were on Fifteenth Street close to Larimer Square.
Oh shit.
I looked to Cisco. “Why are we stopping?”
“This guy, your man, he’s good to you?”
“Yes,” I said swiftly. “Yes. Mag. My guy. My boyfriend. He…he’s the best. The best boyfriend ever. Numero uno. I’ve never…he makes me really, really happy.”
Cisco leaned deep and I sat solid and stared, feeling my eyes get big and my heart thump in my chest.
And a chill raced up my spine at the way he said his next.
“You tell him to stay good to you, Evan.”
I didn’t speak or move.
“Now get out, baby. That building,” he tipped his chin. “Nightingale Investigations is in that building. Get you and your girls up there. They’ll take care of you.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“You…you’re letting us go?”
His gaze slid down my torso then back up.
“Don’t give me a chance to change my mind, because straight up, I got a strong urge to keep you.”
I turned so fast, I opened the door and tried to get out without releasing my seatbelt.
I heard his chuckle, reached, released, and shot out of the car.
The girls were all out of their own cars, looking at me, each other, confused, but I reached my hand their way and shouted, “Come with me!”
They came with me, Hattie getting to me first.
She took my hand.
Pepper took Hattie’s hand.
Ryn took Pepper’s hand.
And we raced to the door of the office building.
I yanked it open and dashed in, only to slam into something solid, and I did it four times. The time I hit it. The time Hattie slammed into my back, Pepper into hers and Ryn into hers.
In a sandwich, I looked up at a tall, gorgeous, Hispanic guy who looked so much like Eddie Chavez, for a second I thought he was Eddie Chavez.
I didn’t get to say hi or ask if he knew he looked just like this hot police officer I knew before he took my hand and dragged us all into the building.
He did not hit the elevators.
I was considering breaking my vow never to own workout clothes so I could take kickboxing classes by the time we raced up four flights of steps and we got to the floor where he pushed through the door.
Through my wheezing, I saw right away Shirleen standing in the hall outside a door.
She got a load of us and said, “Well, shit.”
She then disappeared through the door that hadn’t quite closed before the guy dragging our snake of strippers got to it.
He shoved it open, pulled us in and didn’t stop pulling once we were inside.
I just had time to glance at Shirleen where she was standing behind an impressive, gleaming blond wood receptionist desk as he pulled us through and I saw she was on the phone, saying, “Our eyes weren’t deceiving us. They’re here. Hector’s locking them down now.”
This while I heard a buzz, and the guy, obviously named Hector, dragged us in another door, into a hall, down it, and then shuffled us into a small room that had a bed, a recliner, a bookshelf full of books and DVDs, a TV and that was it.
“You’re safe,” he declared. “And your men will get you after they deal with Cisco.”
On that, he walked out the door and closed it behind him.
I stared at it.
And Pepper murmured a repeat of Shirleen’s “Well, shit.”
“Unh-hunh,” Hattie mumbled.
Ryn stepped in front of all of us, put her hands on her hips, and remarked, “I’m pretty sure the Rock Chicks had a ton more drama. Am I crazy to think that was anticlimactic and be disappointed there wasn’t more drama?”
This from the one of us who’d survived a gunfight in a mall parking lot that day.
In unison, we all answered…
“Yes.”
The door to the room opened and Shirleen stood there.