The bike didn’t move, the engine growled into action, and the travelator matched the speed of the back wheel, sending the front wheel into suspended motion. Gwen was a true genius. The piece of equipment she’d invented purely for this trick would allow Taryn to reach sixty miles per hour without moving. When Gwen, their engineer, released the catch holding her in place, she’d be able to get up to the required 153mph by the time she hit the ramp.
“Taryn holds the world record for a no-hands wheelie with two thousand feet and eleven inches, and if we ever give her a long enough break, she wants to smash the world record for longest distance covered while doing a headstand on her motorbike.”
Taryn signaled she was ready and began to accelerate. She flicked through the gears, eased to sixty in less than four seconds, and held the bike there. She took a long, deep breath and exhaled quickly. Now she was in position, and she couldn’t wait to ride.
“Are you ready to give this crowd the thrill of a lifetime?” Sally yelled.
Fire tore through her blood, and her heart pounded against her ribs. “Hell, yeah. Hit it.”
At the command, Gwen released Taryn’s back wheel, and the bike zipped along the travelator. She gripped the handlebars tight to compensate for the jolt from static to sixty, then accelerated across the smooth surface of the cellblock toward the ramp. In her periphery, she saw the white water from Andi’s boat but kept her gaze fixed ahead. Frosty focus on her body, the bike, and the ramp was the only way she could complete this stunt without injury.
The digital speedometer clicked over 145mph, and Taryn twisted the throttle just a touch more. She hit the incline at 153 and started the climb. Everything but the ramp disappeared from sight. The stage, the tiny dots of color that were the audience, the island, the Bay; all of it gone as she fully extended the throttle to maintain her speed. She felt the G-force trying to tug her back to earth, so she leaned close enough to the tank to kiss it.
And then…
Weightlessness as she soared through the air, slicing through it like a samurai sword, effortless and just as lethal. At the peak of the forward momentum, she pulled back on the handlebars and leaned into the spin. She fought against the force trying to push her head back as the bike completed the rotation. When she emerged from the revolution with her speed decreasing rapidly, Taryn focused on the platform as the boat came into view and she softened her grip on the handlebars. Too stiff and she’d snap like a matchstick. Too soft and she’d bounce off the bike and into the Bay.
Andi was exactly where she should be, and even from her aerial perspective, Taryn could see her as clearly as if she was overlayed on one of the many, many computer simulations. She was going to make it.
The bike headed inexorably on its downward curve, its trajectory perfect in relation to the boat platform. She readied herself for the intense impact, and sure enough, as she landed both wheels simultaneously, the shock shot through every cell, bone, and muscle in her body. The bike’s parachute deployed by virtue of the pressure sensors on the platform—another piece of engineering genius from Gwen to be grateful for—and the resultant tug and dramatic reduction of speed sent Taryn forward on the seat. Her helmet stopped just shy of the bug shield before the parachute released, and she was back in control of her machine.
She saw Andi fist-pump on the deck before Taryn spun the bike around, pulled back into a wheelie, and shot toward the far end of the platform. She hit the brakes and leapt off the bike, leaving it to slide elegantly into the safety net that had been pulled up as they headed back to the island. Andi would forgive her the extra theatrics, and the bike always had a fresh paint job ready for the next show anyways.
Taryn pulled off her helmet and took a bow to the camera at the edge of the boat, keeping her more exuberant reaction inside to share with Andi when the director switched the video feed back to Sally onstage. The crowd’s whooping and hollering widened her smile before Sally cut in, sounding even more excited than the audience.
“And you’re off-air,” Banjo said. “That was fucking amazing, Tar.”
“Thanks, buddy.” Taryn was already turning to celebrate with Andi when she was hoisted into the air.
“That was next level, T.” Andi’s grin matched her own. “You were like a god up there. I thought you were gonna sprout fucking wings. And that landing was textbook form.” She squeezed her even tighter. “Goddamn!”
Taryn hugged Andi back just as hard. “Jesus, Andi. I’ve never felt anything like that before. It was… it was transcendent. I can’t even begin to put it into words.”
“No words, T. Just feel it. I bet it’s soaring around in you like a fucking shooting star.”
Taryn laughed and scrubbed the top of Andi’s head with her knuckles. “A meteor! I’ve got a fucking meteor bouncing around my insides.”
Andi dropped Taryn to her feet and wrapped her arm around her neck as she tugged her toward the front deck. “I don’t know what the hell we’re gonna come up with to top that.”
“What about jumping over the Statue of Liberty?” She gestured to the TransAmerica Pyramid. “Or I could see how far I can ride up the side of that?”
“I was kidding, T.” Andi shook her head and chuckled. “Let’s enjoy this one for a while.”
That sounded suspiciously like Andi was looking to slow down, then she remembered Vegas and the six-month residency on the table. “Sure,” she said with no conviction.
That was tomorrow’s conversation though. Taryn threw her arm around Andi’s waist and let the enormity of what they’d just achieved settle into her bones. Her aching bones. Christ, why could she feel that already? Never mind, half a bottle of their traditional Jack D would soon obliterate that awareness. And one of the cute fans who’d be waiting at the docks for autographs would take care of the rest.
Chapter Two
“Cassandra Kennedy, M.D. That’s what you should get.”
“Why? In case I forget my name and occupation when I’m following you down a drunken rabbit hole?” Cassie batted Rachel’s arm before continuing to flick through the laminated pages of art on a side table. “And we’re not here for me; we’re here so you can cover another piece of your ever-disappearing skin.” She glanced at the flesh Rachel had on display—almost every inch of it colorfully covered in all manner of what she considered to be great art. Some of it was. Some of it…wasn’t.
“Come on. We can do both. I bet there’ll be someone free to ink your virgin canvas.” Rachel nudged Cassie’s shoulder gently. “It’ll be good for you to try something new.”
Cassie rolled her eyes. “Why is it that I feel like your special project sometimes?”
Rachel wiggled her nose like an intolerably cute rabbit. “Because although you’re only in your mid-thirties, you act twenty years older, and it’s my mission in life to constantly remind you that you’re on this big ball of dust to have some fun. All work and no play make Cassandra a dull woman, old way before her time.”
