Page 117 of Riordan's Revenge

I gave an enraged yell, but the guy danced away. Halfway down the narrower part of the alley, he whipped down the mask, revealing his face.

Fucking hell. It was Struan after all.

“Nice action. Someone taught ye well.” He grinned. Waved my phone. “Cassie’s gone out this evening.”

“Where is she?”

“Doing something dangerous.”

I sprinted to catch up. I hadn’t heard her on Everly’s call. Shit. “Then why the fuck are you stealing my phone?”

“Ye track her, aye? Then you’d better catch me, lover boy.”

He exited into the city street. By the time I burst out after, he’d thrown himself behind the wheel of a sports car. Neon-blue under-lights made sure every person around was looking at that damn vehicle.

Struan gave me one final smirk then hit the accelerator, burning rubber as the car pulled out.

Turning, I bolted back to my bike, crammed my helmet on, and wheeled out of the alley exit before shooting off. Why would Cassie leave without telling me? Where would she go?

Why the fuck did her brother decide this was a good time for another of his goddamn lessons?

All the charitable thoughts I’d had about knowing how to shoot and fight fell away.

I was seconds behind Struan, but the slow city traffic had caught him at the lights.

Or he’d waited for me.

I weaved between a bus and a taxi, someone yelling at me from their window. The sports car’s engine growled. Against a red light, Struan connected his gaze to mine in the rearview then accelerated away. I gritted my teeth and followed, running the red and missing a delivery scooter by the skin of my teeth.

I chased him through Deadwater’s town centre and out past Town Hall, where Everly used to work. A police siren wailed. Neither of us heeded it. Right would take us back towards the river and the warehouse. Struan zoomed left. We wove through traffic, him going on the wrong side of the road, me keeping onhis tail. Normally, I would shoot through the city with ease, but the cat-and-mouse game sent my temper into the red. I needed my phone. He had no right.

On a wide boulevard lined with student accommodation, Struan cruised on, giving me enough slack to catch up to his tail. I drew close enough to crash into him if I chose, but that would be my life forfeited, not his.

Shooting out around him, I hit the gas and zipped ahead, taking point.

Satisfaction filled me. With him stuck behind me, I was in control. I continued on until we were clear of traffic, then braked and wheeled my bike around, facing him down and blocking the road.

Struan pulled up inches away, that meaty engine rumbling. From behind the glass, he regarded me. Cocky son of a bitch.

To taunt him, I spun my back wheel, kicking up smoke while keeping to the spot. The racket my bike made reverberated off the surrounding buildings, almost masking a second police siren.

I had him. He’d asked me to chase him, and now he was caught. I raised my visor and folded my arms. For a beat, he stayed exactly where he was. Then the man gave a sarcastic wave, threw his arm over the passenger seat, reversed neatly in an arc, then sped off down a side road.

Mother.

Fucker.

I went hell for leather to catch him. The chase took us out through side streets and into an area that was more suburban. Run-down houses and broken streets.

We shot down a wide road, over and undertaking slower vehicles until we reached a junction with a graffitied shop on the corner. Only then did I realise where we’d ended up.

Four Miler territory.

A warning sounded inside me, making it through where the horns and sirens hadn’t. I couldn’t take that turning. I was skeleton crew. I’d be jumped. Probably find myself dead with how high tensions had become. Rumour had it there was vicious infighting going on, encouraged by Red in his search for a new second.

Struan clearly lived in some kind of grey area of invincibility as he roared past the graffiti, over the line, and blocked the end of the road.

He hit the downlights to flood the tarmac in sea blue then climbed out. “Come on, Riordan. I’m waiting.”

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