It wasn’t the deep rumble of a cruiser, or the smooth hum of a sportbike. This was the scream of a supercharger, something that didn’t belong on city streets.
I slowed, scanning the empty road behind me.
A single headlight, and then the bike shot past me in a blur of black and chrome like a comet, the wave it left behind rocking my Ducati sideways. For a second I just stared after it, stunned.
We were already a quarter mile apart when the rider glanced back. Just a quick turn of the helmet. A challenge.
My pulse spiked.
He leaned forward, and his bike responded, screaming as he shot further down the stretch of road.
All plans of getting home at an already unreasonable hour were abandoned. I opened the throttle, and the Ducati roared beneath me, surging forward hard enough to pull my breath tight in my chest.
Streetlights streaked into white-gold smears as I chased him, the city passing in a blur of steel, glass, and asphalt. Every shiftof gear pushed me faster, harder, until the needle hovered close to redline.
He stayed ahead. Not by much, just enough to taunt me.
I didn’t even know what I’d do if I caught him. Only that I had to try.
We passed through Harborview and to the outskirts of Deltran, two streaks of light on an abandoned road, until he gradually slowed, like he’d decided the game was over and he had nothing left to prove. I followed suit, my pulse still hammering in my ears as the wind eased and the roar faded.
He rolled to a stop beneath a half-dead streetlamp, wordlessly summoning me until I was finally at his side. When his visor turned toward me, all I could see in the black surface was my own reflection.
For a long moment, we both just stared at each other in silence. Then he reached for his helmet, and again I followed suit.
Peach-colored hair was swept back out of his face, and his eyes were so pale they almost looked silver. “Not bad, Harper,” said a smooth voice from full lips curved into an easy smile.
So, he knew me. But I was certain I’d never met him before. “Who are you?”
“You called me. I came.”
It took a moment for me to understand, to remember the call I’d made earlier tonight that had gone unanswered. “You’re The Master?”
“My friends call me Shady. You can be my friend, if you’d like.”
“How the…” My mind was spinning. “How did you find me?”
“You’re not the only one with security tech, Lorens.” He chuckled. “You’re not even the best.”
I had so many questions, I wasn’t sure which to ask first, but the one that left me was, “What do you want?”
“I want to help you stop pretending,” he answered, and I swallowed hard. Because he couldn’t possibly know anything real about me. No one did.
“What makes you think I’m pretending?”
“Everyoneis pretending. It’s what keeps me in business.”
“The Veil?” I asked, and he nodded. “What is it?”
“A club. A very exclusive one.”
“What’s it for?”
“Whatever you desire. You want it? I got it.”
“And what do you get?”
He smiled wider. “You called me for a reason. You want an escape, and I can give that to you. Come to The Veil and see for yourself. Tomorrow, midnight. I waited six years for your call, let’s not delay this any further.” He straightened, slipping his helmet back on. “Nightshade Cellars. They’ll be expecting you.”
