Delilah stepped into the doorway as soon as the back door closed. “You sure you know what you’re doing with her?”

“Figuring it out as I go.”

“You might want to figure it out faster.”

THE MAN CAME IN YOUR Favorite Hole twenty minutes before the end of my shift, his dark hoodie pulled up and his hands in his pockets.

Every instinct I had said something wasn’t right with him. I fingered my phone in the pocket of my apron, the urge to call Bishop screaming at me.

But I was the one determined to stand my ground and take care of myself.

“Can I get you something?”

He looked up at me, and I could have sworn I’d seen him before. Somewhere. But before I could figure out where, he charged toward the counter.

“Give me all the money. Every fucking dime.”

Fear. Honest-to-God fear ripped through me. It multiplied when he pulled out a gun.

Oh my God. Who the hell holds up a donut shop?

I raised my hands in the air like any normal person would who had a gun pointed at them. “Okay. Okay. You can have it.”

“Open the fucking drawer.”

I lowered my shaking hands and turned the key, then pressed the button to release the cash drawer. The gun wavered in the air as I pulled each stack of cash from its slot and piled it on the counter.

“Don’t put it on the fucking counter, put it in a goddamned bag. What the fuck is your problem, bitch!”

I wanted to yell that I’d never freaking been robbed before so I had no idea what the protocol was, but I kept it in. After yanking a bag from underneath the counter, I stuffed the money inside.

The chime on the door sounded, and both our heads whipped toward the door.

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. A visibly pregnant woman walked inside holding the hand of a toddler.

“I want all the chocolate ones,” the little boy said.

The woman looked up and saw the man and the gun and froze for a split second before turning to drop to her knees and shield the boy with her body. A uniformed cop walked by the front window, and the woman screamed for help.

The cop froze and tilted his head to see inside. The moment he saw the gun, he spoke into the radio on his shoulder and drew his weapon.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” the man bit out as he grabbed the bag. “Not fucking supposed to go like this.” He turned the gun on me. “Where’s the back door?”

I pointed to the hallway as the wail of police sirens became audible from outside and the cop pushed open the front door. The man with the gun shoved the paper bag of money inside his coat and fired off three shots at the front windows. Glass shattered everywhere, and the woman screamed before shoving her son toward the wall and curling her body around him.

The man ran to the back hallway and disappeared out the door as the front flew open again and the cop charged inside.

“He went out the back,” I yelled. The cop nodded and gave chase.

The front door slammed open again and I expected more cops, or even Bishop coming from next door, but instead I saw Angelo.

Angelo?

“Come on, E, we gotta get out of here. Now. Hurry. More cops are coming, and they’re going to have all sorts of fucking questions for you that you can’t answer. They’ll arrest you, and I can’t let that happen.”

What the hell is he doing here? Confused, I stared at him. The normal suit I was used to seeing him wear had been traded for jeans and a leather jacket.

“How—”

“Come on, we ain’t got time for questions. We gotta go.”

My brain tried to make sense of what he was saying, but between being robbed at gunpoint and having my past show up, I stood frozen behind the counter.

“Eden, now! Your dad would fucking kill you if you talked to the cops.”

The sirens grew louder as Angelo hustled behind the counter to grab me by the arm and drag me toward the back door where the man and the cop had run.

“I have to make sure she’s okay!” I tugged at his arm, worry for the pregnant woman struggling to her feet shooting through me.

“You need to worry about your fucking self. We’re going.”

“No, I’m not going anywhere. You go. I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t make me hurt you, Eden. I don’t want to hurt you.”

I dragged my attention away from the woman to Angelo.

Hurt me? Why would he . . .

I saw something different in Angelo’s eyes. The easy camaraderie I remembered was gone, and in its place was crazy desperation.

“Let me go!”

Angelo’s fist shot out and slammed into my jaw. The pain didn’t even have a chance to register before everything went black.

GUNSHOTS. BREAKING GLASS. SCREAMS. I could hear everything through the wall of Voodoo Ink, and it was coming from Your Favorite Hole. I was out of my seat, tossing my tattoo machine on the counter and gone without saying a word to my client.

I pushed through the door in time to catch a glimpse of a man carrying someone out the back. A woman hunched over a little boy in the front, and sirens grew louder and louder. Scanning the store, I saw no sign of Eden.

The woman rose on shaky legs, gathering the boy against her chest. She pointed to the back door.

“A man took the girl who worked here. Out the back.”

Fuck.

I ran for the back door and shoved it open just in time to see a man carrying Eden round the corner and leave the alley. Her arm flopped lifelessly, and her head lolled backward in his hold.

“Stop right fucking there!”

I ran toward the man, my adrenaline pumping overtime. I reached the end of the alley and raced left. He was shoving her into the backseat of a Lincoln. She was clearly unconscious.

“Do not fucking move!”

He looked up at me for only a beat before slamming the back door and jumping in the front. I was twenty feet away when he gunned the engine and tore out into the street, narrowly missing sideswiping a cab.

I gotta get my bike. Follow them. I memorized the license plate number and grabbed my phone as I ran back to the alley.

“What up, man?” Con asked.

Between heaving breaths, I told him. “Find everything you can on Eden. And get your people to run this plate.” I rattled off the number before I could forget it. “Someone just grabbed her out of the donut shop and shoved her in a car. She didn’t look conscious.”