Page 127 of Blitzing Emily

She reached up to stroke his scratchy cheek. “Let’s get the hell out of here.” A group of police officers had arrived and were trying to break up the crowd blocking the concourse around them. In the midst of hundreds of people, the only person she saw was Brandon.

Brandon rested his forehead against hers. “On one condition.”

“What might that be? We have to go.”

“We’re leaving right after the game’s over. We’re going to New York. I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure you’ll have that chance.” He rubbed his nose against hers. “Deal?”

She opened her mouth to argue with him. She told David she’d be back for the performances the rest of the week, but she was fairly sure those in charge would have made arrangements for another diva to sing the role instead. Walking out on a performance guaranteed it. Brandon had no idea about how operas were cast, how careers were built, how competitive roles were, but the fact he wanted to help ... Her heart melted.

“Deal.”

“I mean it, sugar.”

The police were still trying to get people moving through the concourse. Emily heard murmurs of “Sharks” and “Super Bowl” and “What’s he doing here, anyway?”

“Okay. Show’s over. Break it up. Let’s go.” The officers made shooing motions. One of them glanced over at Brandon and said, “I know you. Why are you here?”

Emily knew all these people were most likely in shock at seeing Brandon, but she wondered if they could have something read out over the public address system. She reached out and tugged on one of the officers’ sleeves. “We need some help.”

“I’m a little busy right now,” the officer said. He smiled at her, though.

“We have to get him to his game. He’s late. What can we do?”

Another police officer took Emily’s elbow.

“You can’t drive fast enough to get him there before it starts, but we can. Follow us.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

THE POLICE OFFICERSwere only too happy to show Brandon and Emily to the back seat of an unmarked vehicle parked outside the terminal.

“Good thing it’s a slow work day,” one of them joked. “I never thought I’d be a escorting a player to the Super Bowl. You’re about to see a miracle. Watch this.” He grabbed the car’s radio microphone while they maneuvered out of Miami International Airport.

The officer behind the wheel turned to wink at Emily. “The other guys will be jealous. Buckle up, miss.”

Emily felt the click of her seatbelt and hissed, “You, too, bruiser.” Brandon was already fumbling with his own seat belt.

They pulled onto the freeway, flanked by multiple cop cars with lights flashing and sirens screaming. The traffic was bumper-to-bumper across all lanes. The police car maneuvered into traffic and picked up speed. Cars all around them parted like the Red Sea as a result. Emily sat up a little and peered through the clear Plexiglas separating the two seats. The speedometer read eighty miles an hour already. She reached out to grab the arm rest in alarm.

Brandon snatched her other hand.

“Sugar. We’re going to be fine. They do this all the time.”

She peeked over the seat, saw the car’s digital speedometer pass eighty-five, and turned her face away. Maybe it was better for everyone if she didn’t look.

The cop riding in the front seat turned around to them. “How do you feel about the Sharks’ chances this afternoon, Mr. McKenna?”

“We’re going to win,” Brandon assured them.

“You seem pretty positive.”

“I am.”

Brandon and Emily rode along in silence for a few minutes. The exit signs were passing in a blur, but the last sign she could make out said they were still ten miles from Miami.

“We’ll take you to the players’ entrance, Mr. McKenna. Your guest will be shown to her seat,” the officer driving called out to Brandon.

“Thank you, and thanks for the ride.”

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