“Meet me where?” I snap, fighting him to go back.
He shakes his head. “I don’t get paid enough for this shit.” He shoves me back, making me stumble, wincing at the pain slicing through my broken fingers. “You need to go now, or they’ll notice they have one too many on staff today.”
“Wait—” I snarl.
Someone grabs my uniform from behind and hauls me through the hedge backward. On the other side of the bush, I turn on whoever the fuck has their hands on me.
“Jude, come on. We need to go.” It’s the Asian girl—Quinn—from the bar a lifetime ago. She just cocks her head at me when I shake her off and glare her way.
“I’m not leaving without her.” I’m practically bristling.
She raises her palms up. “I’m just trying to get you in the car.”
Over in the road, a yellow Mclaren sits idling its engine, thunderously fucking loud. I lift my hand to cover my eyes, squinting to see who it is although I already know. Not fucking obvious. A guy with messy dark hair and a permanent-looking frown sits in the driver’s seat.
Lorcan fucking Duke.
“Is your sorry-looking ass going to get in, or are you expecting fucking door-to-door service, mate?” is his response to me flipping him the finger on my good hand. When I don’t make a move, he revs the engine. “Hurry the fuck up, Viola’s waiting.”
“You fucking wanker,” I mutter under my breath, striding toward the heap of junk called a car.
Quinn climbs in the middle seat, and then I get in the passenger side. It dawns on me that there’s no room for Viola in this car.
None whatsoever.