up behind them, raise the statue over my head, aiming at the man who cut Jax, and try to keep out of the way of their thrashing weapons.
Jax turns back to the second man and drops to one knee. He smashes the hilt of his blade into the man. It knocks him back. Jax spins on his knee and takes another shot at the first man with a full swipe. It knocks the man’s weapon out of his hand, and it clatters to the concrete. Jax gets up on his uncut leg, standing solidly despite his injured thigh.
My eyelids drop for a brief moment. Thank God he can still stand.
Jax swipes downward and brings his blade to the neck of the man he just disarmed. The man’s eyes widen, round as discs. I think mine do too. Damn. Jax is going to slice off his head.
Sickness, not disgust, curls around my stomach, forcing me to look away, unable to watch. The need to make sure Jax is okay darts my gaze back a second later.
Jax raises his fist and punches the man, hard, in the face. He slams into the ground, moaning, with a thin line of blood trickling from his nose.
The second man hoists his weapon above Jax’s back like he’s ready to stab. This is my chance. It’s now, or I’ll be too late. I slam the raised statue into the base of his head. The man crumples to the ground without a sound.
My eyes meet Jax’s. Chests heaving, hearts beating, adrenaline spiking, we stand there, unable to move. Sweat trickles down the side of his forehead onto his cheek. Respect for Jax seeps into my heart. He helped us get away without killing. Finally he nods, and we’re pulled out of the moment. I rush to his side. His arm drops over my shoulders and I pull it around me, holding his wrist against my collarbone. He’s going to need help to run. Together, we make a mad dash toward the bike.
The thud of running feet close behind us sends a surge of pure energy to my legs. I dart a quick glance over my shoulder—the first man’s bleeding mess of a face twists in a sneer. Spurred on by my glance, he runs faster. Pulling Jax closer, I drag him along, sprinting the short distance to the bike.
Jax throws his good leg over the motorcycle and grabs my arm, pulling me up behind him. He shoves the helmet down on his head and thrusts the other one at me.
The bike jerks into action, sending my arms darting for his waist, my chest rising and falling in rapid beats. We speed off, and the houses blur past.
“They’re behind us,” Jax says through the Bluetooth.
In a half twist I peer over my shoulder. The black sedan is so close I can make out the narrow eyes and straight mouth of the man.
“ Go faster.”
We’re not going to make it. A thought hits me. Freeing one arm from around Jax, I reach into my jeans pocket. My fingers close around the hard, cold oval. My brooch. I fumble, and it almost slips through my fingers, jumping my heart into my throat. I slide the pin through my blouse one-handed, rub my thumb over its raised yellow center, and move my hand to the pendant at my neck and repeat.
It has to work.
My breaths come short and sharp. I’m not disappointed. A ripple goes through me like a shiver up my spine. I’ve disappeared from sight, I’m certain, but did the invisibility cover Jax and the bike too? I hope so. This is our best hope. My arm slides around his middle again, and I clasp my hands together tight as a linked chain.
“What was that?” Jax asks.
“My tech, it creates invisibility.” My muscles quiver, and I have to lean against his back to make them stop.
“Perfect.” He nods. We speed around a corner, and when I glance over my shoulder, the black car and its passenger doesn’t follow. We’re free.
* * * *
My eyes drag open, squinting against the sunlight shining through the branches of a tree overhead. Lumps of hard ground make my back arch and dip in all the wrong places, and long grass rises up, surrounding me in a protective ring. Wind rustling through the leaves dances light on the ground.
I was riding. With Jax.
Jax turns back to the second man and drops to one knee. He smashes the hilt of his blade into the man. It knocks him back. Jax spins on his knee and takes another shot at the first man with a full swipe. It knocks the man’s weapon out of his hand, and it clatters to the concrete. Jax gets up on his uncut leg, standing solidly despite his injured thigh.
My eyelids drop for a brief moment. Thank God he can still stand.
Jax swipes downward and brings his blade to the neck of the man he just disarmed. The man’s eyes widen, round as discs. I think mine do too. Damn. Jax is going to slice off his head.
Sickness, not disgust, curls around my stomach, forcing me to look away, unable to watch. The need to make sure Jax is okay darts my gaze back a second later.
Jax raises his fist and punches the man, hard, in the face. He slams into the ground, moaning, with a thin line of blood trickling from his nose.
The second man hoists his weapon above Jax’s back like he’s ready to stab. This is my chance. It’s now, or I’ll be too late. I slam the raised statue into the base of his head. The man crumples to the ground without a sound.
My eyes meet Jax’s. Chests heaving, hearts beating, adrenaline spiking, we stand there, unable to move. Sweat trickles down the side of his forehead onto his cheek. Respect for Jax seeps into my heart. He helped us get away without killing. Finally he nods, and we’re pulled out of the moment. I rush to his side. His arm drops over my shoulders and I pull it around me, holding his wrist against my collarbone. He’s going to need help to run. Together, we make a mad dash toward the bike.
The thud of running feet close behind us sends a surge of pure energy to my legs. I dart a quick glance over my shoulder—the first man’s bleeding mess of a face twists in a sneer. Spurred on by my glance, he runs faster. Pulling Jax closer, I drag him along, sprinting the short distance to the bike.
Jax throws his good leg over the motorcycle and grabs my arm, pulling me up behind him. He shoves the helmet down on his head and thrusts the other one at me.
The bike jerks into action, sending my arms darting for his waist, my chest rising and falling in rapid beats. We speed off, and the houses blur past.
“They’re behind us,” Jax says through the Bluetooth.
In a half twist I peer over my shoulder. The black sedan is so close I can make out the narrow eyes and straight mouth of the man.
“ Go faster.”
We’re not going to make it. A thought hits me. Freeing one arm from around Jax, I reach into my jeans pocket. My fingers close around the hard, cold oval. My brooch. I fumble, and it almost slips through my fingers, jumping my heart into my throat. I slide the pin through my blouse one-handed, rub my thumb over its raised yellow center, and move my hand to the pendant at my neck and repeat.
It has to work.
My breaths come short and sharp. I’m not disappointed. A ripple goes through me like a shiver up my spine. I’ve disappeared from sight, I’m certain, but did the invisibility cover Jax and the bike too? I hope so. This is our best hope. My arm slides around his middle again, and I clasp my hands together tight as a linked chain.
“What was that?” Jax asks.
“My tech, it creates invisibility.” My muscles quiver, and I have to lean against his back to make them stop.
“Perfect.” He nods. We speed around a corner, and when I glance over my shoulder, the black car and its passenger doesn’t follow. We’re free.
* * * *
My eyes drag open, squinting against the sunlight shining through the branches of a tree overhead. Lumps of hard ground make my back arch and dip in all the wrong places, and long grass rises up, surrounding me in a protective ring. Wind rustling through the leaves dances light on the ground.
I was riding. With Jax.
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