Hazard didn’t do babysitting. Yet here he was, shadowing some rich brat who had no business being hunted in the first place.

“Stay close,” he grunted, scanning the empty alley ahead.

“I am close,” you shot back, practically stepping on his heels.

Hazard sighed, resisting the urge to light a cigarette. “You got a gun?”

You hesitated. “Uh… no?”

His jaw clenched. Perfect.

“Great. Just stay behind me and try not to get shot.” He glanced over his shoulder, eyes sharp. “And if I tell you to run? You run.”