“I can run.”
He pulled out his phone and texted. The reply was practically immediate.
Good.
“I have my Ducati here. One of the crew is going to have it waiting for us with two helmets. The city is like, what, fifteen minutes away? We’ll go there.”
“What if some of them follow us?”
“Oh, they’ll follow us.” He grinned. “But they won’t catch us.”
She groaned. “So, Sir Galahad.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
He glanced behind them, and then leaned down, whispering in her ear. “I’m going to count down from five to one, and then it’s go. Put your hand in mine.” She did. “Five … four … three … two … one … Go!”
They took off. Luckily the confusion gave them enough of a head start.
The Ducati was waiting for them. They put on their helmets, jumped on the bike, and were off just as some people came running up.
Chapter Forty-five
Clarke
Ceci told Clarke she knew the perfect place. Some Blue Jet crew members had gone there the other night. Tilney had told them about it. It was quiet.
When Clarke opened the door to the bar, a couple of people had to get out of the way. It was that crowded.
They burrowed through the bodies, finding a corner that wasn’t quite so packed.
Ceci shook her head. “It wasn’t like this before.”
“It’s probably better. No one will notice us.”
The crowd around the bar was five people deep so they didn’t bother ordering drinks.
“Okay,” Clarke said.” I’m obligated to listen to you.”
“You are.”
“Do you think you might listen to me too?”
She huffed.
He bit his lip. “I say that because, as I recall, I wasn’t the only one doing the talking after I stopped you in the same way. You had plenty to say.”
“Is that your way of telling me you have plenty to say?”
“It seems to me we’re both saying plenty without saying anything at all.”
Just then, a guy who was obviously drunk stumbled backwards and bumped into Ceci, but Clarke caught her before she fell to the ground.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Sure,” she said, glaring at the man behind her. “I’m fine. Just forget him.”
