He didn't let me finish. Instead, he grabbed my hand and took off running toward the black bike.
There was no time to waste. I climbed on the bike on the driver's seat. Lock shook his head, scooted me back, and climbed on.
The ignition was digital. He laughed as he pulled out his phone with a decryption device that we’d been given for the mission just in case. It took several precious seconds, but the bike revved and I could feel rather than hear Lock chuckle. I just prayed to God, he knew how to ride the thing.
Oh, holy shit. He did know how to ride this thing. As the bike roared, he charged forward, careening down the alley without a care. Not even pausing as we hit the end of the street and made a sharp right turn directly into traffic.
Somewhere behind us a car honked and there was yelling, but we were already on the road, weaving in and out of traffic. He made another sharp left, and I held on tight. My hands flattened against his taught abs and all I could do was suck in a sharp breath. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. My brain kept going over and over where we'd gone wrong. Where the intel was wrong. Drake Webster was not supposed to be here.
We took another sharp right, and I heard a ping and saw the cement wall next to us chip as we charged into an alley. I cursed low and shouted, "Bullets." I didn't know if he heard me, but Lock drove like the devil himself was behind him.
He made another sharp left and looped back around until he made a full circle and we were behind the man chasing us.I knew what he wanted me to do then. I grabbed the gun out of his holster. I really did hate to shoot up the Winston Isles, but for fuck's sake. Lock increased our speed until we were within a hundred meters.
I was a hell of a marksman, but on a motorcycle? Lock, for his part, did his best to keep the bike straight. Using his arm to brace, I palmed the gun using both hands, one hand for support, one on the trigger. As we got closer and closer, I aimed for the tire. Fired.
There was a massive pop that sounded like an explosion, and as our bike popped in the air for a moment, the back end of the car in front of us seemed to lift several feet off the ground before spinning and careening out into a barricade.
I brought the gun back, put the safety back on, and kept it tucked in front of me, with one arm holding tightly to Lock.
Lock made a sharp right, and then another left before driving us into an alley. "Come on," he said as he swung off the bike. He took the gun from me and shoved it back into the waistband under his shirt. He held my hand easily as he tugged me along. At the entrance of the alley, he tried to walk forward, but a shiver stole up my neck and I held him back.
He frowned at me, and I shook my head. "Wait."
Suddenly, one of the hulking men drove past us in another car. Lock cursed as we stayed in the shadows. "Jesus, fuck."
Across the street, we saw Saint idling in a car.
Lock glanced around the street, saw nothing else suspicious, and tugged me forward. As we booked it through traffic, weaving in and out of the oncoming cars, several people honked at us. But once we reached the car, the door swung open and Saint grinned back at us. "Can't take you two lovebirds anywhere. Always causing trouble."
I rolled my eyes. “Just drive."
He gave me a wink and a nod before muttering, “Yes, Ms. Daisy," as he sped off.
I slumped down in the back seat with Lock as he used his whole body to practically shield and guard me.
In the safety of his arms, with my heart hammering against my ribs, my brain started to finally make sense of what had happened. Drake Webster was here. The man who had killed my parents. I’d had him within my sights. And instead of staying and fighting and killing him where he stood, I’d run. What the fuck did that say about me?
It says you know how to survive.
Lock's hands rubbed my arms. “You okay?"
“Yeah." I sighed. "But we got bad intel. We need to find out why."