Midnight's Kiss(68)
Julian had followed her. He told them, “That’s the plan.”
She asked the group, “I have one more question for you. Does anybody have a pen?”
After a moment of surprise, they dug into their pockets, until one of them offered a blue ballpoint pen. Crooking her finger at the guy who had asked for her autograph, she gestured for him to roll up his sleeve. Then she signed Melisande on his forearm.
Staring at the signature, he breathed, “I’m never going to wash my arm again.”
Leonard snorted. “That ain’t much of a stretch. You don’t wash much anyway.”
“Wait, I can’t sweat. I need a tattoo parlor, stat.”
“Come on,” Julian said. He led her to the bike, pausing just long enough to slip on the helmet. “It goes against all my instincts to wear this helmet while you don’t have one.”
She told him, “You’ll live, which is the point. And you won’t let us crash.”
The dark faceplate of the helmet was blank, yet she got the impression he was frowning at her. He mounted the bike while she slipped her new phone into her pocket and tucked the gun into her waistband.
“If I have anything to say about it, we sure as hell won’t crash. But I need you to be ready, just in case something happens. Is your gun loaded?”
She swung onto the bike behind him, and because this time it was Julian, she nestled close against his body, spooning him.
“I double-checked. It has a full clip. Why? You’re not expecting trouble, are you?” She tensed at the thought.
“I don’t know what to expect. Soon after Justine ran away, I heard the sound of a chopper nearby. It may have been unrelated, or she may have help, like we discussed.”
“I didn’t even notice,” she said. Working as she did in LA, the sound of traffic helicopters was so frequent, she tended to block out the sound.
“We’re not going to get complacent.” Starting the bike, he told her telepathically, Hold on tight. This is going to be a fast, rough ride.
She tightened her arms around his waist. Briefly he squeezed her hand, and they took off.
Julian wasn’t exaggerating. It was a wild ride. He drove aggressively, and on open stretches of road, their speed shot up until the world became a blur. Squinting, she peeked once over his shoulder at the speedometer, and saw they had hit over a hundred miles an hour.
The wind screamed in her ears, and it whipped her hair around. Tears streamed from her eyes so that she couldn’t see. She didn’t dare loosen her hold to wipe her face. Instead, she let go of everything — any worry that enemies might be tracking them, any fear at their high speed — and buried her face in Julian’s back, putting all her trust in him. After being confined in the dark for so long and living in serious fear for her life, the release she felt at their speed was exhilarating.
As aggressive as he was, he was still forced to slow when they reached the congested city streets near Nob Hill. A couple of times, he avoided coming to a standstill by driving up onto the sidewalks, scattering pedestrians.
The sound of sirens wailed behind them.
She looked behind them, peering through her crazy mess of tangled hair. A police cruiser tried to follow in pursuit but was forced to plunge to a halt behind traffic blocking the street.
I’m rethinking our destination, Julian said. If Justine has gotten help, it could get more dangerous the closer we get to my property.
How likely is that? she asked.
His reply was grim. I don’t know. When she came to the tunnels, she wasn’t expecting us to be free, but by this point, she’s also had time to regroup and strategize, so anything’s possible. Every time we’ve had an exchange, she’s escalated. And I don’t like how vulnerable and exposed you are.
She had been so focused on finally reaching comfort and sanctuary, his comments shook her. After a brief internal struggle, she said, The mansion’s guarded, and you’ve been missing since yesterday, so they must be on high alert and watching the immediate vicinity. Screw it. Julian, just go for it.
He hesitated only for a moment. Then the Harley leaped forward again, hurtling around street corners and racing the final blocks. Finally the mansion came into view. They fishtailed to a halt by the intercom box in front of the gates.
Warily studying their surroundings, Melly drew her gun and braced the heel of her hand against Julian’s shoulder, while he punched a button and snapped, “Gregoire, open the damned gate.”
The wrought iron whirred into motion immediately. As soon as a gap several feet wide appeared, Julian revved the engine and they shot through.
Hang on, he told her.
She clamped on him, clinging to his waist with all her strength.