Chapter 20
With his right knee out of commission, driving was a bear, but like hell was Cole leaving Will up Shit Creek.
Gritting his teeth as he awkwardly used his left foot on the pedals, he whipped around a corner.
Of course he wasn’t used to operating the pedals like this, and he applied a little too much pressure to the accelerator, which sent him careening into the opposite lane.
He very nearly clipped a Tesla, managed to course correct, and sped down a narrow side street.
His heart pounded as he scanned the sidewalks and alleys, hunting for some sign of Will in the shadows and the flickering blue lights from all the cops.
“Come on, come on,” he muttered over the whining engine. “Where are you?”
In his mind, a million worst-case scenarios tried to play out. Will had already been arrested. He’d been shot. He’d been hit by one of the cop cars driving as recklessly as Cole.
Marcus had killed him.
No. No, none of that had happened. Will was just calling on all the self-preservation he possessed to stay out of sight so he didn’t get arrested, shot, or run over.
I should’ve gone in with him. I should’ve—
That was stupid. With his fucked up knee, Cole would’ve been a liability. They would’ve all been arrested, shot, or run over because he’d have slowed them all down and—
Red lights broke through the blue, turning the flashes to an otherworldly purple. Sirens screamed. When he came to the end of another side street… oh, shit.
Cheyenne’s other studio was ablaze. FDNY trucks were pulling up from all directions, lighting up the darkness alongside the cops.
The cops, like the ones who’d just spotted Cole and were peeling away from the curb beside a ladder truck.
“Shit,” he muttered, and threw the car into reverse.
He backed up to execute a three-point turn, but hit the gas harder than he should have.
The back of the car slammed into a dumpster, the jolt sending pain up Cole’s back.
He swore again, shifted into drive, and floored the gas again.
Again, too much—he hit the opposite curb, bumped back onto the road, fishtailed a little, and then took off, swearing aloud as his whole body bitched about the abuse.
Up ahead, a shadow emerged into the flashing blue.
Will. Holy shit, that was Will.
Cole practically drifted up to him, and he’d barely come to a stop before Will threw open the passenger door and flung himself inside.
Cole didn’t even wait for the door to shut or for Will to be all the way in before he gunned the engine again.
Will yelped as he tried to hang on and get his door shut.
Another hard turn slammed the door, and Will shouted for him to go, go, go.
As if Cole had any intention of dawdling.
Will turned around in the passenger seat. “Shit, they’re still close.”
“No kidding.” Cole accelerated. “They’re cops. And they know these roads.”
“How do we lose them?”
Cole didn’t answer. He just drove faster.
The ideal solution would be to stop, ditch the car, and run like hell in opposite directions. Especially in a place like Central Park where the terrain provided natural cover.
But if they tried that, Cole would make it all of two steps before he dropped to the ground and waited to be arrested. There was no running on this bullshit knee. Not tonight.
He gripped the wheel tighter. Up ahead, a sign indicated he could get on the Grand Central Parkway. It would be easier to drive faster, but it would also be easier for the cops to catch up with them. Still, better than getting stuck on a dead-end back road or boxed into an alley.
“You sure about this?” Will asked as Cole took the on-ramp with the cop car right up their ass.
“You have any better ideas?”
No answer came. No better ideas.
Cole punched the gas and whipped around a slow-moving vehicle.
At least there wasn’t a ton of traffic, all things considered.
It was very, very early on a Saturday morning, so there wouldn’t be the usual commuter gridlock kicking up in the next hour.
But this was New York—there would be traffic.
And that could cause them problems. All it would take was one bottleneck or even a slow driver, and they’d be sitting ducks.
Up ahead, a sign announced the first exit for La Guardia International Airport.
Bottlenecks and slowdowns were all but guaranteed down those ramps.
Cole glanced in the rearview at the cop who was very uncomfortably up his ass.
The officer hadn’t tried to knock him off the road or anything, which made Cole think he was just keeping pace with him until they ran into reinforcements.
Reinforcements, which could be anywhere. A roadblock didn’t take long to set up.
They needed to do something unpredictable.
“Here’s the plan.” He sped up a little more, nosing toward the upcoming ramp. “I’m going to pull up to Departures.”
Will fidgeted but didn’t speak.
Cole went on, “It’s always chaos down there. Even this time of day. We’ll lose him in the crowd, ditch the car, and go inside on foot.”
“Uh. What about your knee?”
“Will you help me run?”
“Of course. But we won’t be fast. You know we won’t.”
“We don’t need to be.” Cole glanced at Will. “Put your seat belt on.”
Muttering a curse, Will did exactly that.
As soon as Cole heard the click, he slammed on the brakes. Hard.
Tires squealed. Will grunted as his seat belt caught him.
The cop jerked to the left to avoid colliding with Cole. By the time he’d recovered, he was past Cole… and the off ramp.
Cole, on the other hand, had stopped with just enough room to continue down the ramp, which he did. Fast.
“Holy shit!” Will gripped the handle above the door and braced against the seat. Then he looked back. “He’s coming after us!”
“Figured he would,” Cole gritted out. The maneuver hadn’t put a ton of space between them and the cop, and that space would close quickly, but it was enough.
Ahead of them, traffic quickly clogged up as people slogged toward the departure lanes.
Cole went onto the shoulder and squeezed past them until he couldn’t anymore, then bullied his way between a couple of cars.
That earned him a middle finger and an angry honk, but the cop was stuck several cars back. Perfect.
People were starting to move aside for the cop, though, and he was inching up on them.
Cole glanced in the rearview, then up ahead. They were a few yards from the curb at the start of Departures. Not ideal, but it would have to do.
He nosed his way in between another pair of cars, prompting more middle fingers and honks.
Then he put the car in Park. “Go!”
“What?” Will asked, but Cole was already getting out, and apparently Will clocked that this wasn’t the time to ask questions.
Cole hobbled around the front of the car as horns blew and people shouted out their open windows. The cop’s siren blared behind them.
And suddenly his plan wasn’t nearly as doable because his knee fucking hurt.
He just had to make it to the curb. Make it into the building. Then… he didn’t know. Have Will push him on a luggage cart? Something?
But his knee buckled. When he tried to take another step, he cried out because it hurt a lot more than he’d expected.
Oh, shit. This wasn’t going to work. They were going to—
For the second time in as many nights, Will’s arm was around him, hauling him to his feet, and they were sprinting toward the curb.
Cole was mostly hopping, but Will was practically carrying him at that point.
It was awkward as hell, and Cole’s knee was furious, but they made it.
Past the cars. Onto the curb. Into the airport.
“Downstairs,” Cole gritted out.
“Downstairs?”
“Trust me.”
Will apparently either trusted him or didn’t have any better ideas, and he hurried toward the elevators with Cole still leaning on him.
There was commotion behind them. Shouts. Running feet.
Will ducked them around an alcove and leaned Cole against the wall. “Your jacket. Take it off.”
Cole didn’t ask questions. They both took off their jackets and dropped them. When they stepped out of the alcove, Will took out his phone.
“You said you booked the flight with American?” he asked loudly and angrily. Jiggling his phone in Cole’s face, he exclaimed, “Quenton, this reservation is Delta!”
Cole blinked. Then he saw the cops darting around in the semi-crowded check-in area. He shifted so all his weight was on his good leg, and he hopefully gave off an air of impatience instead of favoring one knee.
“I told you it was Delta!” He took out of his own phone and waved it in Will’s face. “You wanted me to go with American, but I told you my miles only worked for—”
“Hey! You two!” A cop halted beside them and eyed them. “Did you just come in through that door?”
Cole fought the urge to roll his eyes.
Yeah, dude, we totally did and we’re absolutely going to admit it to you because that won’t make you suspicious at all.
“No,” Cole snapped. “We’ve been here for forty-five goddamned minutes because this idiot”—he flailed his phone at Will—“can’t figure out which check-in desk we need to—”
“That’s because you can’t keep your damned story straight!” Will shouted. “You said American! You told me that like forty times, and—”
“When have I ever flown American, Burt?” Cole threw back. “Seriously. When? Because—”
“Gentlemen, can you just tell me if—”
“I always fly Delta. I have always flown Delta. You’ve literally heard me say—”
“I literally heard you say that this time, you booked American, and—”
“Gentlemen, I need—”
“Does it even matter? Let’s just check in and get to our damn gate before—”
“Gentlemen!” the cop shouted in that cop voice. The one that would shut most people up. “I need you to—”
“For fuck’s sake!” Cole kept right on ranting at Will as if the cop wasn’t even there. “We can’t check in for another hour because you insisted on being here four hours early instead of—”
“Because last time, you thought forty-five minutes was enough, and—”