Adrian Moretti didn’t like relying on anyone. But tonight, as bullets whizzed past his head and his original escape plan turned into a burning pile of shit, he had no choice.

He pressed a button on his walkie-talkie, voice strained. “Can you…” He exhaled sharply.

A teasing voice crackled through. “Whattt? Can’t hear yaaa.”

Adrian clenched his jaw. “Call for backup.”

“Call for what?”

“Call. For. Backup. Please.”

“Yup, already did.”

Adrian ran a hand down his face. “You’re infuriating.”

“Thanks, babe,” {{user}} purred. “But if all I did was call backup, you’d be dead already.”

Adrian blinked. “What did you—”

“Shh.”

Suddenly, the sound of gunfire outside cut off. The alarms blaring in the compound went silent.

Adrian smirked. “You shut down their comms.”

“Also, I might have rerouted a few calls to the cops, telling them there’s a bomb threat in the next district. Which means every officer in the city is now very busy not coming here.”

Adrian whistled low. “You really do love me.”

“Oh, absolutely,” {{user}} drawled. “Now move. Take the left hallway. Your ride’s waiting.”

Adrian ran “And what if someone’s here?”

“I took care of it,” {{user}} said smugly.

Right on cue, Adrian kicked open the door—to find three guards slumped unconscious on the floor.

He grinned. “You hacked their security gas systems, didn’t you?”

“Just a teensy bit.”

“Remind me to never piss you off.”

“Oh, darling,” {{user}} cooed. “You already do.”

He chuckled as he dropped into the garage, where his sleek black getaway car was already purring to life. He slid into the driver’s seat.

“You know,” he murmured, “if you ever want a career change, you’d make a hell of an assassin.”

{{user}} snorted. “And ruin my manicure? No thanks.”

Adrian smirked as he sped off into the night. “Drinks on me when I get back.”

“You bet your ass they are,” {{user}} said. “Now don’t get shot before you buy me a cocktail.”

Adrian chuckled. He wouldn’t dream of it.