Page 67 of Zeke

“All right, cool!” he gushes, excited to have someone to go with him.

I rush back upstairs, feeling a renewed energy and sense of fun coursing through me as I pull on my jeans and my cut over a long-sleeved shirt. I throw on a backward hat and head back down the stairs, taking them two at a time in my excitement.

When I meet Pony at the door, he looks like Christmas has come early. “I found this really cool place where we can let loose a little. You want to see?”

Even if I had no interest, his excitement is enough to change my mind. “Yeah. Let’s go.” And I follow him out to our bikes.

Turns out the place he wants to show me isn’t far from the house, and it’s a place I’ve been before, though I don’t tell him that. He’s too stoked to share it with someone, and I don’t want to put a damper on that. It’s this backroad area with a huge, empty dirt lot where the soil is packed tight enough to ride on, and there aren’t many rocks to make the ride bumpy.

I stay at the edge of the lot and watch as Pony takes off, swerving and sliding, sending rust-colored dust into the air. I hear him laughing, and it doesn’t take long for his enthusiasm to rub off. Before long, I’m rushing out to meet him, banking hard around him and watching him dodge me as I zoom past.

He’s a good bike handler. I already knew that, but seeing him one-on-one like this makes it obvious. He’s able to bank and switch directions in a split second to avoid colliding with me, keeping his momentum and balance in a way I’ve seen seasoned bikers struggle with.

After a while, we’re both sweating even though it’s cold out, and we decide to head into town.

“You want to get some donuts and coffee?” I ask. Pony seems thrilled at the idea, so we head for the bakery.

As we arrive, I notice the same car from the night before now parked in the bakery lot with the same guy inside. I slow down as I approach, trying to get a better look at him. When he looks up and sees me, he guns his engine. He zips out of the lot, nearly hitting me on his way. My gut screams that something is off about this guy, and I wonder if he has anything to do with the flowers left for Kira, especially given where he was when I got here.

I turn my bike, ready to follow him, when my phone goes off. I reach into my pocket to silence it, but it rings again. With a slight growl of frustration, I pull it out and see the name on the screen.

“Hello?” I say eagerly.

“Eli, hey,” Eden says. “Are you at home?”

“No. I’m in town. Why?”

“How fast can you get back to the house? I’m nearly home.”

Nearly home. Thank fucking god. I don’t hesitate before starting my bike up again and looking at Pony.

“I’ll be there in ten,” I tell her.

“See you there.”

CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE

Eden

“Here’s the thing, Doc,” I say as the man looks at me fearfully. “My husband is just fine. Isn’t he?”

The doctor’s voice shakes a bit. This man is obviously not used to being threatened, and he doesn’t take it very well.

We’re at the hospital in Miami. Savage is hooked up to an IV machine, but they’re not giving him pain meds anymore, so I don’t know why they refuse to let him go.

Not that it matters, because I’ve already decided it’s time for me to go home, especially after talking to Eli.

“Well,” he says slowly, looking at Savage’s chart. “You see, the bullet wound is—”

“Healing up perfectly,” I finish for him. “And he should be safe to travel. Shouldn’t he?”

“Well, Miss—”

I shoot him a look, and he backs down from calling me that, something I have always hated. Good. Now he understands who’s in charge here. “Your husband was shot, and the laceration left by the bullet could become infected if not properly treated.”

“Are you saying you haven’t been properly treating him?” I demand, knowing that I’ve backed him into a corner.

“Of course not!” he sputters. “We’ve been providing him the best care we have to offer, and—”

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