His hands wrap around my waist, and I gun it back to London.
52
Lucy - Present Day
Myeyesburnbehindthe dark visor, my chest screaming at me from under my clothes. My nose is running, and I can’t stop coughing.
Fucking pepper spray.
Roman taps my shoulder as we pull up to a set of red lights. “You’re struggling. Pull over and let me drive.”
“I’m fine,” I reply between bouts of coughs.
“He’s right, Kara. You sound like you smoke fifty a day,” Henry adds.
“I’m fine.”
“Listen to him, Cookie.”
“You told on me,” I say into the receiver at hearing Owen’s voice.
“No, he’s been pacing the apartment for the past two hours. You’ll owe me some new flooring at this rate.”
Roman taps my shoulder again. “Stop being a stubborn arse.”
“Stop ganging up on me already,” I say, but even as I say it, I start coughing again. I can barely see through the tears that run from my eyes.
The light turns to green, and I accelerate. Roman grabs my waist, but I indicate and pull up in the bus stop over the road. I turn off the engine and climb off, pull off my helmet, and cough until I’m retching on the side of the road.
Bending over the grass verge as I gag, snot, tears, and now puke, adding to the fun.
I feel a hand rub my back. The helmet in my hand is soon removed.
“I’m really sorry about this.”
It takes me a moment for the words that have just come out Roman’s mouth to sink in, but when they do, it’s already too late.
I stand up, and turn, as Roman strikes me smack across the jaw and cheek with my bike helmet.
Already fighting the aftereffects of the pepper spray, I hit the deck, my vision blurring as more tears jump to my eyes as pain registers, black spots dotting my vision.
“Motherfucker,” I groan into the earpiece.
I roll onto my back, stare up at the sky, then across at my bike that Roman fucking Rook is now climbing onto. The last thing I see as I desperately fight to hold on to consciousness is Roman driving away.
Blinking back the darkness, shaking my head to keep myself from passing out, I roll onto my front.
It takes everything in me to get to all fours, but then I’m up. Standing. Or wobbling more like.
“The fucker has done a runner,” I say into the earpiece.
“He won’t have gone far,” Henry says confidently.
“Go far? He’s on my fucking bike, and knowing that slippery arse hole, he will be out the city in the next twenty minutes.” I cough again and spit onto the ground.
“No, he won’t. I know exactly where he’s going. Just let him do what he needs to do. He’ll be back.”
“Henry.” I move my jaw and touch my cheek bone. “Let’s not forget what Roman Rook is capable of.”
