“Can you get backup there now?” Ryker pressed the deputy.
“Calling it in.”
“I’ll make a call too,” Jace insisted.
The officer was already on his radio, but I was done waiting. Done with protocols and procedures while Dakota was?—
“Axel, wait,” Ryker pleaded as I started running. “Where are you going?”
“I’m not waiting.”
“You’re never going to beat the cops there,” Jace reasoned, jogging to keep up with me.
He was right. Traffic would be hell, and even if I floored it, sirens moved faster than civilian cars.
Unless …
I spotted a kid leaving the venue, early twenties by the looks of it. Probably a waiter. But most importantly, he had just swung his leg over a motorcycle.
Perfect.
“I need to borrow your bike.” I approached him with my hands up in a nonthreatening gesture.
The kid furrowed his eyebrows at me, waiting for the punch line. “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen, man.”
“Listen to me.” My voice was steel. “There’s a woman in danger. I need to get to her right now. Your bike is the only way I can get through this traffic fast enough.”
“Dude, I’m not loaning my motorcycle to some random stranger.” He started putting his helmet on, dismissing me entirely.
Fuck it.
I contemplated punching him in the throat, knocking him unconscious, and stealing his bike, but with my luck, I’d end up in a jail cell instead of saving Dakota.
“I’ll give you a hundred thousand dollars.” Jace appeared next to me, phone already in hand like some kind of miracle.
The kid pulled his helmet off slowly, his eyes rounding. “Wait … are you Jace Lockwood?”
“I am.”
“Dude, I’m in business school. I’ve seen your articles inFortunemagazine and?—”
“A hundred grand,” Jace cut him off, all business. “But only if you give him the motorcycle right now. He’ll return it when he’s done. Tell me your favorite money transfer app, and I’ll wire it immediately. If you know my name, you know I’m good for it.”
The kid looked between Jace and me, probably calculating whether this was real or some elaborate prank.
“Dude, for a hundred grand, you can keep the bike.” He slammed the helmet into my chest. “Keys are in it.”
“Thank you,” I said to my billionaire friend, who gave me a sharp nod.
I didn’t waste time putting the helmet on. Instead, I hopped on the bike, and as Jace and the kid started fumbling with transfer apps behind me, I peeled out of the parking lot so fast, the scent of burned rubber filled my nose.
“I’m coming, Sunshine,” I shouted into the wind, the engine roaring beneath me as I wove through traffic like my life depended on it.
Because hers does.
“Hold on.”
60
