Page 40 of Meet Mason, the Billionaire

“Great, but how do we get down?”

I led her over to a side where raised geometric brick patterns formed a kind of ladder. I climbed down first and waited to catch her should she fall.

“I feel like I’m in an action movie,” she said with a giggle.

I smiled, but it faded quickly enough when I saw those doggedly determined cops appear at the top of the ramp.

“There they are!” The cop with an orange paint stripe over his face looked like he belonged in a new wave music video from the 1980s.

“Time to go.”

We ran down the alley running behind the hotel. The cops didn’t know an easy way down, so they shouted ineffectually as we made a break for it.

I called for a halt at the end of the alley, and peered behind us. I didn’t see any signs of pursuit.

“I think we gave them the slip”

“Yeah. Man, that cop… his face…”

She nearly doubled over laughing. Now that it was safe, I found that I could join in her mirth.

“I wish I could have snapped a photo.”

“Yeah, me too.”

We walked out to the side street bordering the hotel. I was still a bit wary, because it felt like we’d gotten away a little too easily.

“Do you think we’re in trouble?” She asked suddenly.

“I don’t think so.” My jaw set hard. “I happen to be a major contributor to the police retirement fund, and I also have cameras with microphones covering all my rental properties. When I make a few phone calls…”

I took my phone out, intent upon doing it right that moment. Megan tugged insistently on my sleeve.

“Mason, we’ve got to go. No time for that.”

I looked up the side street and saw our orange-faced cop and his partner.

“Son of a bitch! What does it take for these guys to give it up?”

“I don’t know. Should we just surrender ourselves?”

I stared at the cop. “I don’t think so. I don’t trust that guy not to do something extreme once he has you in custody.”

I grabbed her hand and we ran back down the alley. When we got halfway through, I suddenly cut down a short flight of concrete steps and went through the back of a thrift store. The employees freaked out as we interrupted their game of poker. We made it to the sales floor and out the front door just as the cops burst in the rear.

We raced across the street just as the light was changing from green to yellow. Our steps had taken us less than halfway across the intersection before the light changed red.

We got honked at, flipped off, and called a lot of names. But we did make it across. Not so the pursuing cops. They were trapped on the other side of the traffic, an iron seam separating them from their quarry.

In this case, us.

“Let’s keep going,” I said.

“Wait,” Megan said, tugging me down a different street. “Let’s go this way.”

“Why?”

“You hear that?”

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