Page 49 of Reign
Rei withdrew a pair of business cards from her pocket and handed one to each of them. “My personal number is off-limits,” she told them, with a pointed glance at Ethan. “If you need to reach me, use the contact form on this website. Request a fiftieth-anniversary cake.”
Daphne stared blankly at the card, which advertisedMelinda’s Gourmet Bakeryin a cheerful blue font. “What?”
“Use the contact form on this website,” Rei repeated. “It’s heavily encrypted, so it’s safe. I’ll get your message immediately.”
“What do you do if someone stumbles across this website andactuallyorders a fiftieth-anniversary cake?” Daphne couldn’t help asking.
“I order them a cake from somewhere else,” Rei said, as if it were obvious. “I would never ruin a fiftieth anniversary.”
When they were back outside the abandoned office building, Daphne glanced over at Ethan. “You said that you and Rei played T-ball?”
“Yep. She was the best third baseman in the league, until she got kicked out for throwing a punch.”
“Why am I not surprised,” Daphne muttered. “And how did she get into all this…illegal activity?”
“The usual way. Her legal options didn’t work out.”
Daphne started strapping her helmet under her chin, then hesitated. “Did you two ever…”
Ethan looked at her with a teasing expression. “Are youjealous?”
“Of course not,” she sniffed. “Just want to know the context, since you didn’t give me any before.”
He grinned. “Well, forcontext’ssake, Rei and I are just friends.”
It was darker than it had been when they drove over here; the afternoon sun cast long shadows over the streets, making Daphne wish she’d brought a heavier jacket. As they exited the highway and began to cross midtown, she slowly became aware of a car on their tail.
It was a nondescript black SUV, the sort of car Daphne could drive past without ever really noticing. Except that this one had been trailing half a block behind them for several minutes now.
“Ethan,” Daphne muttered, but he’d already seen.
“Don’t worry, I’m on it.” He revved the motor and the bike leapt forward eagerly.
The car behind them picked up speed, too.
She could feel it now: someone was taking a picture. Call it intuition, but Daphne had always been able to sense when a lens was aimed her way; it was part of what made her so good with the paparazzi. She ducked her head into Ethan’s shoulder to hide her face.
They were approaching a traffic circle. Her fingers tightened in the fabric of Ethan’s jacket as he whipped around, then cut down the second exit toward the museum district. Perhaps fifty yards ahead of them, a traffic light turned to yellow.
Daphne sensed what he was about to do before he even started accelerating. He pushed the motorcycle to its top speed, glancing both ways as he shot through the intersection like a bullet.
The SUV tried to follow, only to nearly collide with a truck. Daphne heard the screech of brakes, the chorus of angry horns erupting behind them, and let out a breath. They were safe.
It was another few minutes before Ethan finally turned onto a quiet side street and slowed to a purr.
He glanced back over his shoulder. “You okay, Daph?”
She wasn’t sure whether it was the rough concern in his tone, or the fact that he’d called herDaph—but something about the moment felt sharply intimate. Her heart was pounding from a wild mixture of shock and adrenaline.
“I’m fine. Thank you for getting us out of there.” She hesitated, then added, “Did they have a camera?”
“Just a phone, I think.”
That was a relief. A real camera, especially one of the long-lens ones the paparazzi used, might have gotten a clear photo, but not a phone.
“Then we’re in the clear.”
Ethan nodded and turned around, setting back out into the darkening streets.
