Page 55 of Gunpowder

“The bike, the one that took Ace away from the bar in College Point. It was black with green flames, right? A street bike built kinda like mine?”

“Yeah, it’s the only one like it that I’ve seen. I haven’t seen it since, though, not that I’d expect them to hang around Flushing unless they have a death wish.”

Blair cursed under his breath as the light turned green and the bike sped in the opposite direction. He saw Wren look over, likely made curious by Blair’s half of the conversation. “Looks like they hang around Manhattan instead.”

“Try to get the plate number if you have them. You won’t be able to catch them, they’re too fast, but get us anything we can work with.”

Blair put the phone on speaker to open a text draft he could type in. “I only caught a few numbers, it was going the other—shit!”

His phone slid off his lap and clattered into the floorboard as the Audi fishtailed into a U-turn around the median. Horns blared and Spencer’s voice sounded tinny from under the seat where his phone ended up. Wren’s foot went to the clutch and he rammed into a higher gear, the engine growling as though excited to finally be put to proper use. Someone else honked at them as Wren wove between two cars.

Blair got a hold of his phone and put it back to his ear with wide eyes. “I think I might have someone that can keep up with them.”

“Don’t engage them, Blair. See if you can follow them back to their base and then get the hell out,” Spencer said, but he couldn’t mask the enthusiasm in his voice at the prospect of getting more intel.

“Understood.”

He hung up and put a hand on the door to steady himself as Wren took off down an empty turn lane, past the stalled traffic, and whipped back in front of them just as the light turned green. The motorcycle was in sight again.

“Do you think you can stay far enough behind for him not to know we’re following?” Blair asked.

Wren jerked the wheel and they swerved into the right lane. “He’ll never know we’re here.”

The back end of the car spun out again, Blair narrowly bracing himself to avoid smacking into the window as they took a sharp right into an alley. It didn’t even look big enough for the Audi to fit through, and Blair didn’t think he could have got so much as a finger between the sideview mirrors and the brick walls blurring past them. The vents carried in the smell of burning rubber when Wren drifted sideways, toward the left, and punched the gas. He didn’t let up until they passed the next alley and Blair looked down to see a flash of metallic green on the other end.

“What if they turn off between blocks?” Blair asked.

“I’ve been driving in Manhattan since I was in high school. There’s nowhere that bike can go in this city where I can’t find it.” Wren had matched the motorcycle’s speed, and every time they came to an alley or intersection Blair looked over to make sure it was still there.

True to Blair’s concerns, they vanished from sight in another two blocks. Wren turned left and began shifting up again. “They had to have turned left, we would have seen them turn out if they had gone right.”

“They’re going to the bridge,” Blair said, recognizing their surroundings from when he picked Wren up from school and took him to the Gantry Plaza.

Wren soared under a yellow light just as it turned red. “Must be going back to College Point.”

Blair watched the Phantom member weave in and out of traffic ahead of them, not seeming any wiser to their presence where they lingered about three cars back. He watched Wren’s fingers drum against his thigh. It made his own tingle in response, like his muscles were already in the habit of reaching for him, but he had to focus. He busied himself instead with taking his gun out of his waistband and putting it in his lap, safety on.

“Planning on a fight?” Wren asked.

“As much as I would love to blow a few extra assholes into this guy, I can’t storm Phantom’s base without backup. I just need to see where they’re going and report it back to Spencer and the boss. On the off chance they do catch on, though, I don’t think they’re going to throw confetti and give us a welcoming party.”

Wren glanced over at him, at the loose hold he had on the 92. “You think it could get hostile.”

“If this goes wrong, yeah. But don’t worry.” His fingers tightened around the embossed grip.

“They don’t scare me.”

“They shouldn’t. I’m not gonna let them hurt you.”

Wren’s lips tilted up into something more genuine than his usual taunting smirk. It was a smile that faded from his face by the time they reached College Point but lingered in his eyes. He almost looked content, and Blair liked how it looked on him, wanted to chip away at Wren until that smile wasn’t such a rare occurrence.

He had to set that aside for right now, though. Traffic had thinned to the point that following the bike was a gambit with the constant risk of being noticed. Blair just hoped they were at ease in their own territory and didn’t fully have their guard up.

They were approaching a street made up of a closed down strip mall, and further down, a warehouse. Wren turned his headlights off and slowed to reduce the sound of the engine. The streetlamps were the only thing still lit among the row of abandoned buildings. Blair’s hands started to sweat against his gun.

Chink, chink.

It wasn’t the same warehouse, but it was making Blair’s throat tighten up all the same. Even though it usually didn’t give him any more grief these days than itching and the occasional throb, he could feel the echo of pain from that night searing down his leg.

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