Page 154 of Reckoning

We wait a few more minutes before I call it. On any ordinary day I wouldn’t be standing around like this so it’s pointless to do it today.

We hit the road, taking the same winding streets back.

But it’s clear from the moment we start moving that something is up. That this is what they’re after.

We’ve got three cars on our tails.

I keep back, making sure Reid is up front. Collins is at the back, giving everyone a blow by blow of which car is where, ensuring we can all anticipate how this is going to go down.

And then the car slams into Reid’s bike. My bike technically. I see it go sideways. I see him come off and thank fuck he’s been forced to wear a helmet to hide who he really is because if he didn’t, his brains would be all over the damned tarmac.

He skids along, coming to a stop but none of us have time to check on him.

Behind me, Collins and Fabian are dealing with the two other vehicles, ensuring they don’t get far.

I speed up, taking my gun and use it to smash through the glass of the one that took out Reid. Whoever the fuck it is evidently thought we’d been too concerned about my supposed demise to take any other action.

I hear the shout as I grab hold of the door and force my body in through the gap.

They thought they could simply eliminate me? They thought that I’d just roll over and die, just like that? Not a fucking chance.

The driver yells something out. I use my helmet to bash the face in of the fucker in the back and then I open the door and push his unconscious body out. I don’t give a shit if he dies. I don’t give a shit if someone runs him over and spreads his fucking organs all over the road.

The bikes all slip back. I know one of them has now come to a stop, that someone is seeing to Reid.

I grab the gun, stick it right into the neck of the man behind the wheel and remove my helmet.

“Drive.” I order. “Return to your mistress.”

He blinks at me in shock. Like I was too damned stupid to work it all out.

“If you give the game away, if you do anything to alert them, I’ll blow your fucking brains out.” I threaten.

He nods quickly, obviously complying. I guess he’s a hired hand. A mercenary. Whatever this vendetta is, he’s not got any skin in the game, he’s not interested in anything but the pay-check and you can hardly spend that when you’re dead, can you?

We slow down, return to what looks like a normal speed. I can’t help the fact the window is out but I fold my body, cramming it as low as someone as physically big as I am can go.

I just need to get inside. Nothing more.

Houses whizz past. I can tell from the size of them that we’re in the Bay District. Somewhere close to where Roman resides.

We make a right, then another right, the roads are winding here, deliberately designed so that all these grand palaces have enough space around that they all look like mini Versailles.

As we pull up to the huge security gates

I ram the gun into the driver’s ribs. If he fucks this up he’ll have a bullet in his gut before he can finish uttering his sentence.

He mutters something. The guard grunts back and then those massive black gates open.

Behind it is a pale pink, Italian style villa complex. It’s more glass than walls. The front has more columns than the Parthenon.

The main door opens, she practically runs out, clicking her high heels as she skips down the fourteen steps to the sweeping drive.

“Well?” She cooes, like she’s asking about a designer’s half-price sale and not whether someone is dead.

“It went well.” The driver says, getting out slowly.

“Well?” She repeats, glancing at the window and frowning. Perhaps she’s wondering where the other two cars are, perhaps she’s not smart enough to realise their absence.

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