Rough Hard Fierce: A Bad Boy Romance Boxed Set (Chicago Underground #1-3)

I raised the gun above my head and slammed it down on the doorknob, a shiny beacon through the flames. The shock from the impact traveled through the gun to my arms. Christ, that hurt. Was it possible to get bruised by vibrating?

But pain hardly mattered when I was about to get fried. I picked up the gun and brought it down on the door again. I wasn’t even aiming for the handle anymore, just hitting the door with my everything. Maybe it would somehow be enough, and it would open. Even if it didn’t, I’d go down fighting.

“Allie!”

I paused with the gun raised above my head, panting. I must have imagined it. It didn’t come from behind me, from Shelly, but in front of me, from outside the door. And the voice, though distant, sounded male.

“Allie!” Closer now and definitely Colin.

Yes! My first thought wasn’t even that we would be saved, but that he hadn’t done this. If he was here looking for me, he must not have left me here to die. A weight lifted, and I breathed easier despite the thick, gritty air. It would have been almost the worst part of dying, aside from not seeing Bailey again, to think Colin had done this to me.

“I’m here.” There was no way he could hear my croak through the metal door, above the dull roar of the fire, so I banged against the door with the gun again. Not as hard now, but faster. I’m here!

“Hang on,” he said.

I stood there, because where else could I go? I could only hope I’d live long enough to have nightmares about this scene.

Then the door banged back at me, hit from the other side. I backed up into Shelly, and we both moved out of the way. Whatever he’ used, or maybe just his stronger swing dislodged the door handle, and just that small sliver of escape sucked in fresh air.

“Get back,” he yelled, his voice clearer now.

We were already standing away, but we backed up even farther, to the spill of guns.

Two shots and another loud bang and the door creaked open. The top side of it had pulled down and out, but the rest of the door seemed to have melted into the frame. The space should be large enough to squeeze through, but it was too high.

Colin appeared in the space and saw that we couldn’t reach. “I’m coming in,” he said.

“No,” I tried to yell. Then he’d be trapped. “Wait a minute. Shelly, help me.”

We dragged one of the open containers over to the door. I let Shelly go first, practically pushing her out of the hole. Then I dragged myself through, ignoring the sharp pain of the too-hot metal against my skin.

I collapsed next to Shelly on the concrete, gasping for the air of the city.

“We’ve got to move,” Colin panted. “This place’ll blow when the fire hits the ammo.”

Oh good. He was planning to blow us up, not burn us to death. How comforting.

I dragged Shelly up, both of us wheezing, almost choking on the thick smoke inside our lungs.

Colin pulled us all along somehow. I couldn’t quite see yet, at least not beyond a few feet, and followed him blindly. He slowed, and Shelly dropped to the ground. I fell beside her again, my muscles like jelly, while Colin put his hands on his knees and head down.

Staring up at the sky, I saw only black.

My breaths rattled in my chest as I heaved on the ground, but it seemed that Colin was recovered. “Get up,” he said. “You need to get out of here.”

“Me?” I asked. “You’re not coming with us?” I was mostly offended that he’d let me leave like this, though in truth I probably couldn’t drive as I was.

“No,” he said. “Take Bailey and leave.”

He’d put something in my hand. It was the envelope of money from Andrew, the same fucking envelope of money. It felt different, lighter. Not that I should care about such a thing as some missing money, but I was struck dumb by the whole experience, and I looked inside. The thick wad of hundreds seemed to have grown even thicker.

I looked up at Colin. He towered over me, chest heaving, eyes flashing.

“You still think I did this,” I whispered.

“I don’t care,” he said, the acid in his voice burning me anew. “It’s not safe for you. Just go.”

“Did you do this?” I stood and listed to the side, where he caught me. “Did you leave me in there to die?”

“Then why would I get you out?”

“I don’t know,” I asked, my voice breaking in fits and starts, like the worst case of puberty. “A change of heart, maybe?”

“I didn’t know it would be you,” he said, looking me straight in the eye. “When I called home and that neighbor picked up, I came here.” So he hadn’t meant to kill me, not exactly. It was a test, one I’d failed. Not for the reasons he thought, though. I’d come for him.

“Colin,” I said. “You have to believe me. I didn’t do it. I didn’t tell the cops about this—”

“Don’t.” He looked offended.

“I’m not lying! That money wasn’t from them. They were together—it was just a coincidence. They came around a couple times, but I just gave them a fake address.”