Page 92 of Fanatic

“Do you think the car is bugged?” I asked, surprised.

“Who the fuck knows? But people would steal this design of ours. Let’s not discuss it too much.”

I turned the radio up louder. “You honestly made an electric bike with Harley pipes?”

“Yup. Full on electric Harley, and yet it roars like a normal one. It’s worth millions. Jett is fuckin’ sleeping with it and won’t let it out of his sight. We’ve patented it and everything. It’s going to be worth a fortune, and we’re hoping Harley will buy it next week,” Fanatic admitted.

“Holy shit,” I stared in shock.

“And the battery also lasts twelve hours. None of this two hours and it needs charging bullshit,” Fanatic added.

“Well, I suppose Sin is enjoying the break,” I quipped, and Fanatic burst into laughter.

“Yeah. Sin got her hysterectomy in the end. No more kids there.”

“And you and Jett designed this between you?”

“Yup.”

“I didn’t know you could design engines. Fanatic, you’re an engineer, holy shit, how did I not realise?”

“Because, babe, it’s not something I brag about. And honestly, I think this was more stubborn determination than skill. Between us, we muddled our way through.”

“I’m coming with you, right? Next week? You’re taking me?”

“Yes. I need my woman there because it’s as scary as hell,” Fanatic admitted.

“That is so exciting,” I crowed, and Fanatic grinned.

“Was a two-year design. You can see why Jett’s sleeping with the fucker,” Fanatic said, and I laughed.

This weekend was going to be fun.

???

This wasn’t what I’d envisioned. I raced through the crowd with my gun out, chasing an asshole who had just shot at my man. After checking Fanatic was okay, I’d given chase. I was screaming, “FBI, get out of my way,” as I ran after the idiot.

How dare he shoot at Fanatic?

I’d no idea if this was the motherfucker who’d been targeting us. However, I did know I was going to kick his pasty white ass all over this show room.

Fanatic and I met up with Harper and Nitro, who I remembered, and they’d been chatting shit when a guy come up. The lower half of his face was masked, and he whipped out a gun, aimed at Fanatic and fired. Acting on instinct I took Fanatic down and, after checking he was alive, gave chase. People had scattered on hearing the shots, and luckily, it was towards the end of the meet, anyway.

“FBI!” I screamed at someone who refused to move, and I shoved him hard. Fuckin’ idiot.

“Willow!” a voice I wasn’t familiar with bellowed. I didn’t stop as I saw the target and put on a burst of speed.

Gritting my teeth, I jumped and tackled the perp catching him by the knees and bringing him down. I went down hard, but he went down harder.

The fool started fighting me, and I smacked his head on the ground as I yanked my handcuffs from my shorts and cuffed him.

“Holy shit,” Harper said, astounded, as I climbed to my feet as my suspect writhed around, spewing shit.

“Shut the fuck up,” I hissed at the man and began reading him his Miranda rights. Security guards barrelled towards us.

“She’s fuckin’ FBI,” Harper yelled.

“Don’t look like no Fed I’ve ever seen,” a guard said, holding a taser on me.

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