She’d always been a tough cookie. And her stubborn streak had been a mile wide, even as a middle schooler.
Pale Horse chewed up the streets like the badass beast it was. Which allowed him to whittle down their journey from fifteen minutes to a little over ten. Even still, by the time they made it to the parking garage housing the secret entrance to BKI’s backdoor, he was nearly frozen.
The tears that’d streamed from the corners of his eyes had iced in the hair at his temples. He couldn’t feel his lips or the tips of his toes. And he could tell he’d lost at least two degrees of core temperature because he could. Not. Quit. Shivering.
By the time he rolled up to the hidden mouth of the Bat Cave, he could barely keep the handlebars straight.
Hannah tightened her grip around his waist when he tipped the motorcycle’s front tire over the lip of the tunnel. And when they started going down, the wet cement walls encroaching in on them, Pale Horse’s engine sounding viciously loud in the enclosed space, he thought he heard her whimper.
Who can blame her?
The Bat Cave was freaky as fuck. Not only was it dark and dank and smelling of fish, but it also had the feel of a tomb. That earthy, quiet,undergroundatmosphere that conjured up all sorts of flashbacks to horror films.
“A-almost th-there!” he chattered above the rumble of the motorcycle’s engine when they hit the end of the tunnel and what appeared to be a solid brick wall.
Except it wasn’t solid. High up on the left side was an inconspicuous red button. He smashed it with his gloved palm and the bricks popped forward to slide back like the plastic on the TV dinners he’d lived on as a kid when his folks had had enough functioning brain cells to stock the freezer.
A rush of warm air and the smell of grease guns hit him in the face when the interior of the shop came into view. The lights blazing overhead were overwhelming after the darkness of the tunnel. And the expressions on the faces of the people lined up and waiting for him reflected varying degrees of the urgency he felt.
With one last twist of the throttle, Pale Horse crawled out of the tunnel and onto the cement floor of BKI’s headquarters. He maneuvered the bike into its spot alongside the other fantastical motorcycles and nudged out the kickstand with a foot that felt like a block of ice.
The moment he cut the engine, Eliza peppered him with questions.
“Did you run into any trouble? Do the feds know she’s escaped? Ozzie was able to hack into the city’s camera system, but he’s still working to get into the FBI’s security feed, so do you think their cameras were able to catch your license plate? I texted you to take it off, but I wasn’t sure you’d get it.”
Eliza Meadows wasn’t simply the daughter of the current chief of staff and therefore an integral part of their team because of her familial ties. She was an integral part of their team because she had a mind like a steel trap. She was always thinking. One step ahead.
At the moment, he hated her for that.
The cold had turned his brain to icy slush. All he could think was how badly he hurt.
It felt like someone was shoving red-hot needles into the places where his skin had been exposed to the elements. And his teeth chattered so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d cracked a filling.
The last thing he wanted was to grind the frozen gears of his brain into answering questions. But he managed, “G-got your text,” as he attempted to dismount.Attemptedbecause it took him two tries to swing his leg over the bike. His muscles were in lockdown and not listening to what his gray matter was telling them. “Left my plates in th-the garage. S-someone sh-should go get ’em. B-b-but right now, w-we n-need to g-get warm.”
Eliza blinked as if she’d just realized he was shoeless and coatless and Hannah was still sitting on the back of the bike, hunched into a tiny ball with her arms wrapped protectively around herself.
“Oh, my god!” She nodded rapidly. “Of course. I’m so sorry. What should we—”
“T-tub,” he cut her off, shivering so hard he thought for sure his organs were getting pureed inside his body. “H-hot water.”
“Right.” She didn’t waste time turning to race for the stairs.
He shuffled over to Hannah on feet that ached so badly he thought maybe they were busted. Could the cold do that? Could it break bones?
“C-can y-you dismount?” he asked.
She hadn’t removed his helmet. And the visor was still down, so he couldn’t see her face. But he caught her subtle nod.
Of course, the instant she stepped off the bike, her muscles failed her. She fell into his arms, and because his muscles were in the same shape as hers, he fumbled to catch her. In fact, he only managed to keep her from slipping through his grip and onto the floor by going down on one knee and folding her close against his quivering chest.
“Here.” Fisher laid a hand on his shoulder. “Let me, brother.”
Before Sam could object, Fisher lifted Hannah into his arms and turned for the stairs. Hannah’s feet, made cumbersome by Sam’s big boots, bobbed with each of Fisher’s steps. And her helmeted head fell onto Fisher’s shoulder as if the effort to hold it up was too much.
Sam blamed the pain shooting through his socked feet as he followed in Fisher’s footsteps for the growl that built in the back of his throat. But somewhere in the furthest reaches of his frozen brain, a little voice whispered,That’s not really what’s bothering you, is it? You don’t like seeing Hannah in Fisher’s arms.
Okay, fine. But it wasn’t because he wasjealous. It was because Fisher was a charming sonofabitch who seduced every woman he met.
