I winced, watching as she wedged her upper body out.
Her arms were still cuffed behind her. If she lost her balance, she was going to fall headfirst onto the pavement. No, she wasn’t high, but full force like that could easily crack her head open. Maybe not fatally, but bad enough.
My breath stalled in my lungs as I watched the broker use one shoulder for leverage as she brought out a leg, her body contorting to make room.
“No fucking way,” I said as the second leg moved out of the window.
For one heart-fluttering second, her entire fucking body teetered on her holding onto the window itself with her damn elbow.
Then, making my stomach drop, she swung down, landed on her feet like a damn cat, and booked it.
“Um, I gotta go see a girl about a ride.”
“She got away?”
I hung up on Huck’s question as the woman ran around the side of the warehouse.
She probably wouldn’t get far before the cop noticed she was gone. Then half of Miami’s police force would be looking for her. The faster I could get her on my bike and outta there, the better.
I ran to my bike, turned it over, and followed the shadow running away from the warehouse.
Her head whipped over, eyes wide.
“Get on!” I yelled over the engine.
She glanced back toward the warehouse, then at me.
Decision made, she folded forward, her hands near her knees, then she—I shit you not—stepped over them, bringing her cuffed hands to the front. What kind of contortionist shit was that?
“Here,” I said, shoving my helmet down on her head and securing it.
She was quick to climb on behind me, then demanded, voice near my ear, “Put your arms up!”
Willing to play along, I raised them, only to feel her arms move around them, her cuffs caging her to me, but allowing her to hold on.
I didn’t hesitate.
I took off like a shot.
She curled into me, and I could feel her fucking with the hem of my shirt until her hands (and cuffs) were under it, hiding them from view, and pressing them against my stomach.
Which was distracting as fuck.
But I forced my mind to focus on the road as we drove into a busier area.
I wove in and out of traffic for a few minutes. Until I heard the inevitable sirens in the distance, the cop likely calling for backup.
I slowed then, staying with the flow of traffic.
Her cuffs were hidden.
So was her face.
There was no reason for them to suspect we were anything other than a couple out for a car ride.
Did I have a helmet on? No. But they had bigger fish to fry.
That said, getting her somewhere not visible was probably a good idea, in case the cop who’d cuffed her got suspicious about the all-black outfit and body that fit the description.
