So many questions stir in my brain, but I leave them for another time. Now I’m anxious to see Bolt and make sure he’s okay. I wrap my arms around Blaise and hang on tight.
We’re halfway home when a van comes barreling down on us. “Blaise!” I shout.
“Got it.”
The road’s empty and rough. There’s no one to signal for help. Not that Blaise would do that. He’s probably hoping we make it to the clubhouse where he can face down whoever’s following us.
He pushes the bike into high gear. There’s no way the van should be able to keep up. I grip him tighter and lean into each curve as he continues to push the bike to its limit.
The engine vibrates through me until my teeth rattle.
The van pulls up alongside us, and someone points a gun out the window.
They won’t seriously shoot us in broad daylight, would they?
Blaise brakes hard and maneuvers away from the van.
A crack and ping fills the air.
The bike slides.
“Hang on, baby.”
I’m not sure what I’m more terrified of, being shot or being thrown onto the pavement at eighty miles an hour.
Gunshots explode over us. The bike skids out of control. I’m flying through the air and can’t draw a single breath.
I land with a thump in dead grass and brown sand on the side of the road.
Pain roars through me. I struggle to focus on Blaise. On the threat still coming at us.
My blurry gaze lands on Blaise’s beautiful Harley on its side. The wheels spin slowly in the air. Air that burns my nostrils. Blaise lies in a bloody heap a few feet away.
“Blaise!”
I drag myself to his side and cry in relief that he’s still breathing.
Slow, crunching steps approach under the hot midday sun. Pain pierces my head. My hearts slams, about to explode.
“Hit them first, Kadydid.”
Years ago, Blaise taught me how to shoot. My shaking, dirty fingers flip open his cut, searching for the gun I know he has to be carrying. Tremors wrack my body, my ears won’t stop ringing, and I can’t seem to make my fingers work.
There’s a loud crack and then nothing.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Kady, Kady, Kady.
“Blaise?” Her harsh whisper breaks through my fog.
“Blaise, please, are you okay?”
“Kady?” My throat feels like I gargled with road dirt.
Oh, wait, I did.
It all comes back in a rushing, painful blur of speed, bullets, and road rash.
