I can still run for it, Liam thought as Brody pulled his car into the empty spot along Broad Street. But he got a good look at the street—packed with people jostling to enter the National, an old theater repurposed as a hip concert venue. The marquee above the double doors read EBOLA RAIN in crooked letters, as if prophesizing the apocalypse. Maybe Liam could leap from the car into the crowd and simply disappear…
There was too much traffic on Broad to allow him to exit through his own door, so he had to scoot over to the other side of the car. When he jiggled the handle, though, nothing happened. “What gives?”
In the front seat, Brody glanced in the rearview mirror and grinned at Liam. “Oops. The child locks must be on. Adam will have to let you out.”
“Oops, my ass,” Liam groused as his
