Both my ankle cuffs and Hayden are still firmly in place.

What I need is for someone to do it for me...

By the smell of it, Crow’s still around.

The air from his particular brand of funk still lingers heavy in the air. Actually, smelling like that, I doubt there’s anywhere on Earth he could hide from me. It’s so thick that I can almost physically see the trail leading me behind an overturned table. The little coward has, appropriately, buried himself in a huge mound of trash.

He wisely decides not to put up a fight when yanked from the rubble. He just holds up both hands, repeating, “Okay okay.” I don’t say another word, just point to my ankles and squeeze the base of his skull. Within seconds, there’s rapid typing and my cuffs sp...

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