Her mind racing, she matched it with the speed of her bike, her breathing shallow. Fear gripped her chest: fear and pure soul-burning rage. She aimed for Scorpion’s factory, needing this to end once and for all. But she knew she shouldn’t. She was far too emotional to think straight. Her emotions would only get her killed. Anger won the fight against fear, smothering her until she couldn’t breathe or think.
A scream ripped from her lungs as she brought the machine to a dead stop, the rear wheel breaking contact with the tarmac. She screamed until the voices were quiet. She screamed until the pressure on her chest subsided and her mind cleared—her breathing returning to normal.
Headlights casting her shadow over the road pulled her back to her senses, and she took off again, changing direction. She headed for her territory. There was a lot of cleaning up and explaining she had to do.
She took a second turn, and a moment later, the headlights fell across her back again. Unease took hold of her, and she sped up, making an unnecessary turn in case she was being followed. But the moment she accelerated, so did the vehicle behind her. She was barely around the corner when the headlights found her again. Glancing over her shoulder, the glare blinded her enough to cause
her bike to swerve across the asphalt, and she fought to regain control of the machine.
With a racing heart, she managed to steer straight and made another turn, pushing her bike as hard as it would allow her. Another turn, and another, and another. Until she was sure she had lost her tail.
With a last glance over her shoulder, she sighed with relief to see no headlights approaching. Slowing down, she veered onto a side street and had to pull on the brakes before she hit a vehicle parked right in the middle of the road.
With the tips of her shoes on the asphalt, she pushed her bike up to the driver’s side window, banging her fist against the tinted glass. The glass lowered only about a third as one-and-a-half crystal blue eyes appeared. She shook her head, suppressing a smile.
“Yeah?” Gavin asked softly. Even his forehead was tinted in a faint hue of red.
“You’re lost, aren’t you?”
“No,” He cleared his throat. “No, I’m just admiring the view. That’s all.”
She studied the rundown buildings surrounding them and turned back to him with a raised eyebrow.
“Uh-huh,” she grunted. “I’m sure you find it fascinating.”
“My phone died,” he announced, lowering his window all the way, his chin dipping ever so slightly.
“Why were you following me?” she demanded,
crossing her arms.
“I want to help,” he answered without hesitation, looking up at her with those pleading puppy eyes. “And whether you like it or not, I’m part of whatever this is from now on. So either let me help, or I will find a way to help.”
Her heart ached. The conviction in his eyes was too much, so she looked away, only to immediately look back at him with an idea.
“Follow me,” she said, adjusting her position on the seat. “If you want to help, we’d appreciate your assistance.”
His face lit up with childlike excitement. “Really?” he beamed.
“Yes,” She smiled at him. “If you’re up for it.”
“I am,” he answered, barely allowing her to finish her sentence.
“Just follow me.”
TWENTY SEVEN
Poison led Gavin into her territory. The red and blue lights of emergency vehicles cast unnerving shadows across the wreckage. A flickering street lamp flashed as if sending SOS signals into the night. Though the fires seemed under control, the smoke still hung in the air like the breath of an ominous beast.
Parking in front of The Grave Bar, Poison stared at the chaos, guilt lighting every nerve in her body.
“What happened here?” Gavin whispered next to her.
She didn’t notice him walking up to her. Taking a deep breath, she slipped off her bike.
“Gang violence,” she answered with a straight face. “But it would be better for your own sake if you didn’t ask any further questions. Keep your nose clean,” she warned.
“Are you part of these gangs?” he asked, and she sighed heavily.