Page 38 of Raiden

“I rode here with Gunner, but…” Lark’s flush deepens. She’s almost shy now. It’s easy to see how anyone could find her endearing. I have a feeling that when she decides to have a person’s back, she’s loyal for life. She might be young, but she’s trying to learn, trying to gather wisdom. I won’t pretend that age has anything to do with any of that. It’s life, and she’s seen agood deal of it too, I’d bet. “Would it be okay if I rode back to the clubhouse with you?”

I saw it coming, but I’m still floored. “Me?”

She laughs. “You’re not nearly as bad as Gunner.”

He’s waiting outside for us, our guard for the morning. I bet that any man in the club would be willing to admit they find Gunner chilling as fuck. That’s probably okay with them or he wouldn’t be a patched in member and most clubs do collect men like him, but I can see how Lark would rather have a warmer ride. If straight ice doesn’t flow through that man’s veins, I’m not sure what does.

“Sure, if you want to do that.”

She nods a little too eagerly, which earns a small smile from me. This isn’t us being besties, but it’s a start and I’ll take that over a full stop any day.

After I gather my things and let Bullet and the men who work with him, Vigil and Steel, know that we’re heading out, I meet Lark in the parking lot. Gunner is leaning against his bike, alert for threats, but also bored at the same time. He doesn’t look put out that Lark is riding with me, even though I know she came out here to do that while I was still inside.

She has her helmet in hand and sweeps it easily over her hair. At least she’s not wearing a dress today, and her footwear is appropriate for a ride—though her outfit leaves a lot to be desired. Floral patches and lace trim on denim? Whatever floats your boat.

I hide another grin and get on my bike before I wait for her to mount up behind me. I don’t like riding behind anyone, andI don’t usually like having a passenger, but I can’t say I really mind this.

Lark’s arms snake around my waist without hesitation. At least she’s one of those people who knows how to hold on. I don’t have to whip my head around every five seconds to make sure she’s still there, still doing okay.

I don’t have to motion to Gunner. He’s ready to roll out, his bike near the edge of the lot, rumbling so loudly that I swear there are actually stones jumping up and down where the gravel edges meet the asphalt parking lot.

My own bike is so loud that as soon as I turn out of the parking lot and open up the throttle down the paved road leading back into Hart, I lose the sound of his engine in favor of my own.

Only minutes later, my joy at temporarily tucking away all my cares in favor of the ride bursts like an overinflated pool toy when Lark leans in and screams in my ear so I can hear her.

“I think we’re being followed.”

I crank my head around. A black car is so close to us that they’re practically eating up my back tire.

“Where the fuck is Gunner?” I don’t know if Lark hears or not, but her arms lock around me, holding on tight like she expects that I might have to gun the throttle at any time.

Now that they know they’ve been spotted, the car swerves out from behind us, the engine screaming in the second lane, to come up to my left. One glance behind me confirms that the lane is empty behind them, Gunner nowhere in sight. Why did he leave us alone? How did that car get in between us? Did he dropoff without me hearing? Have trouble with his bike? Or was he part of this plan, whatever it is?

The tinted back window on the sedan unrolls. A thug dressed all in black with a balaclava over his head, waves a semi-automatic rifle at the curb. His message is clear.

Pull over.

There’s no way I’m doing that. They’re in a BMW. I caught sight of the logo when I turned. It’s not like I have any chance in hell of escaping. Even if there was a ditch, an alley, or a field that they couldn’t follow us, my bike isn’t made for off-roading like that. It would be suicide to try and lose them that way and it would be sheer madness to try and outrun them, especially when they have guns. I have one tucked into the back of my jeans, but I just saw firsthand what a terrible shot Lark is and that was standing still at a range. Even if she was good, she’d be shooting against glass and metal and we’re out here with nothing but our bodies as easy targets on this bike.

I have a decision to make. Risk letting them take us and do god knows what to us, or drop back, peel around, and take them on a chase through town. If they fire shots, they could hurt someone else. We’re out here on the edges of the city right now, but if I head back down main streets and they’re not afraid to open fire, someone else could get killed.

Wecould get killed.

That’s not their aim. If they wanted us dead, they had a clear shot for who knows how long before I even noticed they were there.

“Widow?” Lark screams at me, her arms clenching even tighter. I can feel her trembling against my back.

She’s already braced, trusting me to do what I think is right.

We pass a series of warehouses, getting closer to getting back into the thick of the city. I make a decision.

I squeeze the brakes, bringing my bike to such an abrupt stop that I nearly fly right over the handlebars. Lark comes out of her seat, slamming into my back, but the momentum takes us right back into a sitting position as I maintain control of the bike and reel it around. The car’s engine screams as it flies down the road past us, followed by the squeal of brakes and the smell of burnt rubber.

I don’t stay to watch past that.

I wheel the bike around, laying my own strip of rubber on the pavement. I wouldn’t be able to reach the clubhouse in time and it’s too risky and dangerous. Someone else might get shot or hit by their car. Who knows if they have other men ahead. I might go from one vehicle chasing me to multiple.

Bullet is back at the range. Steel and Vigil are there. They have weapons.

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