18
When Shea came to, her body was slumped against a wooden crate. Her head and chest throbbed. Hunter and the guys were nowhere to be seen.
Thoughts drifted through her mind—some urgent, telling her to get the hell out of there, others suggesting she stay put until the room stopped spinning. She coughed and spit up blood. Her bottom lip felt fat and tender.
She scanned the room. Half a dozen bins full of hex were missing. Street value must be a few mill, easy, she thought. The Jaguars’ll be pissed when they find out it’s gone. She’d already pushed her luck with Oscar. If they found out she was here, God knows what they’d do to her and those she cared about.
A blinking red light near the ceiling caught her eye. A security camera on the wall had recorded the whole damn thing. “Oh fuck.”
