“Put it on. Get on the bike,” he says abruptly. I stare at it for a moment, then take a step back.
No fucking way I’m getting onto that thing with this stranger.
“Do it!” he snaps. I’m starting to shake my head when my phone vibrates in my back pocket. It’s a message from Mark.
Get on the fucking bike.
I look around quickly, expecting to see a camera or something, which is just ridiculous. How could he know what’s going on over here?
Shit.
I don’t have a choice. I reach for the helmet, slide it over my head and swing my leg over the bike's seat.
“Where are we going?” I ask. There’s no answer. Without waiting for me to get a grip, the biker surges off down the alley and back into the road nearby. I stifle a shriek and grab his jacket, although, I’d happily keep as much distance between us as possible.
Once again, as we motor through the dark streets of New York, I think back to the night I rode off with Mateo. The thought of that night brings a lump to my throat. I blink back tears. If anything, this should be setting my resolve more firmly. I’m doing this for him.
Don’t forget that. Remember, Andy…
As the bike swerves around cars in the lane ahead of us, reluctantly, I get a firm hold on the guy sitting in front of me. The guy who’s not Mateo. I grit my teeth and wait for the tears to ebb away.
When he stops abruptly, I’m almost entirely composed. He remains motionless in front of me, aside from a sharp jerk of his head to the side. I look in the direction he’s nodding and see a dark limo pull up beside us. The tinted windows don’t allow me to see who’s inside, but I have a pretty good idea of who it could be.
Suddenly, I’m frozen with fear. This is it. The moment I’ve been waiting for. There’s no turning back now. Nobody is ever going to be able to track me from here. He’s taken too many precautions. God knows I’ve done the same thing in this single-minded quest for revenge.
What the fuck am I doing?
Before I can back out, to leap off the bike and make a run for safety, the limo doors fly open. Three men clamber out, and I’m hoisted off the bike. Instinctively, I kick out and thrash, but there’s no point. They’re too strong. By the time I’m bundled into the back of the car, I’m flushed and out of breath.
“Hello, Andrea,” Mark says smoothly. He’s sitting across from me, one knee crossed over the other, leaning into his seat. He’s sipping from a champagne glass.
“Mark! I’m so glad to see you!” I bluster.
“Could’ve fooled me. You put up a bit of a fight there.” There’s a glass in the console beside him. He takes a bottle of Moet from a small fridge, begins to pour, and then hands me the glass. I take it with shaking hands.
“I was confused. I wouldn't have hesitated if I’d known it was your guy.” I aim a smile at him that I pray doesn’t look like I’m looking at death. I probably am.
“To us,” he says and reaches his hand out. I clink my champagne flute against his and try to broaden my smile.
“To us,” I murmur back. He’s watching me with narrowed eyes, and I take a quick sip. “What do you have planned for this evening, Mark?”
“Oh, you’ll see soon enough.” He taps the partition between the driver and us, and the car pulls off. The men who’d grabbed me haven’t climbed back into the car, aside from one in the passenger seat. I’m guessing he brought them as backup in case I resisted.
Why would I resist? I’ve worked too hard to get here right now. I take another sip.
“Sounds mysterious.” I trace a fingertip down his knee, and he leers at me. I lick my lips before drinking again.
“You know me, Andrea, always full of surprises.”
“I know. That club was…something else.” I wink at him, hoping it’s seductive and not like I’m blinking insanely. He reaches forward to top up my glass, and I realize I’ve managed to finish half of it. Nerves. Who could blame me?
“You liked that, huh?” His grin is pure filth. “Pity I can’t take you back there.”
I press my lips together, trying not to show my discomfort at his expression. There’s a cold tingling running up the back of my spine.
“I’m sorry about that. I guess that must have been a big loss. But maybe when the repairs are finished…”
“Oh, that’s not why I won’t be taking you back there, Andrea.” He’s looking at me over the rim of his glass. My cheeks are beginning to feel unnaturally flushed.
