Spade wanted to jump. I kept him leashed with a look. 8-Ball’s calm held us in the lane like gravity as Miami began to get the bikeoff the bed.
We rolled the bike onto the pavement, and I watched as Miami mounted it.
“I hope she works,” I said as the key was passed to him.
“She will. I can tell,” he said as he stroked her.
“Drive like you’ve never driven before brother,” 8-Ball said.
Miami wasted no time. He shoved the key in and kicked the bike to life. It purred. I could see the look of ecstasy on Miami’s face as he took it in with one long inhale. He looked at the unknown riders, gave them a dirty look, glanced back at me with a smile, added a wink for flare, and then took off like a bat out of hell.
The unknown rider kicked his bike to life, and the ones who had joined the darkness reappeared again too.
Suddenly, before they could even follow Miami, Turnpike must have already climbed into the cage. The engine roared to life, and it jumped forward, turning sharply before stopping on the utility road Miami just fled down. The cage took up the width and blocked their path. Nothing but swamp on the other side.
The rider then reached for something on his leg, and I saw a glint of silver.
“Cover!” I yelled as gunfire erupted.
We dove behind our bikes and used the building as cover too. We returned fire, unsure if we struck anyone, but managed to scare off those who hadstalked the delivery site.
“Is anyone hurt?” 8-Ball asked as he looked around to check on everyone.
Fortunately, everyone was good, but it was a close one.
“Fucking shit show that was,” Spade said as everyone rose back to their feet and Turnpike jumped out of the cage.
8-Ball turned to him. “Drop was dirty. Product’s hot. Blackjack isn’t going to like this.”
“The Giorlando’s aren’t going to like this a whole lot more,” Priest replied.
“Fuck them. They gave it to us without knowing what it even is. What’s so fucking special about a bike anyway?” Spade replied, rubbing asphalt from an abrasion on his arm he must have gotten from diving to the ground for cover.
“Not like we haven’t taken surprises before. That’s the only reason we’re still kicking it now. Experience. Instinct. Blackjack will deliver, but the price tag just went up.”
“Way up,” Snake Eyes replied.
“We need to have Roadkill look more at that bike,” I suggested. “No way this was just over a machine. It’s suspicious as hell.”
8-ball glanced at me and nodded. “Once it’s secure, he will.”
Snake Eyes lit up a cigarette but didn’t smoke it. He let it burn down to the filter, watchingthe bike’s headlights disappear off in the distance, opposite direction of where Miami had gone. “We need to tell Prez it’s raining,” he said.
I looked up at the stars I couldn’t see, then over to the neon glow bouncing off the clouds that hovered over the city. “Yeah,” I said. “It’s about to rain. Storms coming in.”
We saddled up and left the unit sleeping behind us. No idea where our contact was. He didn’t show. On the way out, we saw no signs of the other bikers either. As we headed to the pier to link up with everyone else to ensure the rest of the delivery went better than our half, the kid on the bicycle reappeared at the corner of a street we passed, watching with that hungry look boys get when they stumble on something they want but can’t have. He raised a hand. I raised two fingers back and saluted him.
We hit the road and the road hit back. The city opened her arms and sharpened her nails.
We rode into her lights. The choir sang. And for a single moment, everything was simple. When the city blinked, that was when the world tilted toward blood. And I couldn’t help but think that was exactly what this storm brewing was going to be doing.
Two
Miami
There’s a moment on the road when the world forgets how to talk.
The wind cuts the noise. The pipes hit that perfect pitch. Streetlights smear into one long gold ribbon and all the ugly little human things fall away. No bills. No bosses. No bullet you haven’t met yet. Just speed, breathing, and the machine between your legs.
