As we exited the interstate a mile from the finish line, he let me take the lead to make the race more convincing. I bolted away, my heart pulling to stay beside him, the air in my lungs burning with each foot of distance that separated us.
“I’m going to pass you at the finish line,” he said without distortion. “But Kaci, I will follow you forever, and I will love you even longer.”
I sucked in a breath as a heavy, glorious feeling filled my chest. God, I loved him. I pressed forward, pinned the throttle, and smiled. “Love you, too.”
The finish line stretched over a couple blocks, bikes of all makes and styles lined up along the sides of the street. A moment later, Logan whipped past and sped over the final marker a second before I did. Swarms of people lined the street, their cheers and applause deafening. I tried not to focus on the celebration. Any one of them could’ve bet on me and could be plotting my death at that very moment.
We carried Glocks in the back of our waistbands, and I felt the weight of mine now as I zipped through the crowds and followed the map to the exit.
I broke free from the congestion of bikes and people just as a stream of squad cars veered around the corner. Logan appeared beside me, and I wasn’t sure I breathed for the next ten miles.
I’d argued the wisdom in leaving the race together. Too much suspicion would arise. But he was spectacularly bullheaded about this part of the plan and refused to leave my side until he was certain of my safety.
A half-dozen cops chased us down busy streets, through sleepy neighborhoods, and up the ramp to I-88 as we headed west toward the airport. They couldn’t match our highway speeds, and eventually we lost them in the thick flow of traffic.
I loosened my fingers around the grips and rolled my shoulders, keeping pace with the bike at my side. “Jesus, that was close.”
“Take the next exit.” His voice strained, his helmet aimed at the silver SUV beside him.
My pulse quickened. “What’s wrong?”
Oh God, he pulled his gun out. “Stick to the plan.” He held the Glock against his thigh, his visor still pointed at the SUV on his other side.
We turned off the interstate and flew down the exit, entering a quiet industrial area. The SUV followed.
Chills licked down my back, and my mouth dried. “Who are they?”
“Poor losers, Kaci. Trying to collect their debt.” He slipped in behind me, his bike and his rigid posture bent over the frame, all poised to protect me. But what would stop them from shooting him?
It was so damned dark away from the lights of the city, the streets remote and barren of life. This was the part of the plan that made my stomach twist and turn.
I followed the map on the visor, cranking the bike to two-hundred mph and breaking away from Logan. My throat thickened, and my heart banged in my chest.
Approaching the brick building that matched the location of the dot on the map, I watched Logan through the rear camera. His black silhouette slowed as the SUV gained speed. He raised the gun, angling backward, his bike fast and steady.
I rounded the corner of the brick building as shots rang out.
OhGodohGodohGod. I slammed on the brakes, my head spinning and my blood frozen in my veins.
“The plan, Kaci.” Logan’s voice in the helmet chased away my momentary fear and spurred me into motion.
I shot forward, around to the back of the building, and found Benny in the prearranged spot behind a trash dumpster. She stood beside a blue Hayabusa sportbike and held out a blue helmet, her body covered in leathers identical to mine. I skidded to a stop and jumped off the bike.
Ten seconds later, she raced away on Lady Silver’s MTT Turbine, wearing the chrome-finished helmet. Turning left on the street, she raced in the opposite direction of the DuPage County Airport.
The rumble of a speeding car approached, and I crouched down beside the Hayabusa, hidden behind the dumpster and peering around the corner.
A Mercedes zoomed past, headed in Benny’s direction. Right on its tail was Logan, his arm raised, gun in his hand.
My throat swelled, and the backs of my eyes burned. I hated, hated, hated this part of the plan. As the decoy, Benny would lead gamblers, gangsters, FBI, whoever would be chasing Lady Silver to Aurora airport. There, a plane in Logan’s name would take off, without passengers, headed to Mexico.
Logan would protect Benny, I had no doubt. But who would protect him?
I shoved the blue helmet on my head and instantly despised its lack of technology. I didn’t need the map to DuPage Airport flashing in my face. It was a straight shot from here. But I mourned the loss of communication I had with Logan. God, it killed me that I couldn’t talk to him, that I didn’t know if he was safe.