35. Chapter 35 #2
His voice comes back breathless from running.
"They hit… slight congestion. Stopped at a light on Broadway.
But I'm too far… too far back and it's clearing up ahead.
We're gonna lose them. Hold on—" A pause.
"The phone tracker is acting weird. It was moving, then went static.
Cross at… Broadway and Fulton. Fuck, they're turning north. I've lost visual."
I lean into a hard right onto Broadway, the motorcycle's edge nearly scraping the pavement. Horns blare as I cut through traffic, running another red light. I don't care. I don't fucking care about anything except getting to Londyn.
"I'll find them."
I'm going to find her.
This won't be another loss. Not Londyn. I don't know how Josh is connected to the Navy Caps, but it doesn't matter. What matters is getting her back.
Wind whips at my face as I push the bike faster, weaving between cars. A speed camera flashes in the dim light as I blow past, but what's a ticket compared to Londyn's life?
The intersection Mike mentioned appears ahead. I make the turn so hard my knee nearly touches asphalt. My eyes scan frantically for a black SUV. There are too many in this city, too many matching vehicles.
"Mike, plate."
He rambles off the string of letters and numbers. He's still running, his breath coming in sharp bursts. "I'm going to… grab… electric scooter—wait. There's an hourly… rental car a block back."
"Get it."
I commit the plate number to memory, repeating it like a mantra as I crisscross the streets. Every black SUV I pass gets a split-second inspection, but none match. She's slipping away. Every minute, every second, Londyn is getting farther from me, being taken somewhere I might never find her.
My gut twists with a primal kind of desperation I've only felt once before, when I found Wunmi in that dressing room, the life seeping out of her while I tried desperately to hold it in.
That won't be Londyn.
I won't lose her, not when I've only just found her.
I realize, in this moment, she's the air I breathe.
I take a sharp left down Church Street, following an instinct I can't explain.
It's like I can feel her, like there's a tether between us pulling me in the right direction.
The street spills onto Chambers, and there it is: the black SUV with the exact plate, speeding through traffic like it has somewhere urgent to be.
Found you.
I gun the engine, closing the distance between us.
The SUV is fast, but my bike is faster. I pull alongside it, trying to peer through the tinted windows, but can't make out anything beyond shadowy figures.
I accelerate harder, cutting in front of the vehicle, risking a collision for a better angle.
Front windshields can't be legally tinted as dark as the side ones, so I glance over my shoulder as I pass. Though it's still difficult because it's nighttime, I can just make out Josh in the driver's seat. No passenger. Londyn must be in the back.
The SUV suddenly accelerates, nearly clipping my rear tire as it passes. Josh noticed me. He knows I'm not just another motorcyclist.
I twist the throttle all the way, bringing myself level with the driver's side window. With one hand gripping the handlebar, I reach for my gun. I aim it at the tinted glass. "Pull over."
Josh guns the gas and attempts to lose me.
I give chase, coming level with the driver's side window again.
I raise my gun, not sure I want to risk a shot that could crash the SUV.
I don't know what kind of position Londyn is in or if she's even wearing a seat belt.
Shooting Josh would stop the vehicle, but it could also throw the woman I love out the windshield.
I'm about to threaten Josh again to pull over when I spot a delivery truck ahead. It's backing out of a side street. Shit.
I drop back to avoid a collision, cursing as the SUV pulls ahead again. A rear window rolls down, and I see a flash of a man's face, older, with dark hair. His eyes lock with mine for a split second and raw hatred boils in my gut.
Alan Miller.
A gun appears, and a shot cracks through the air.
I swerve instinctively, the bullet missing me by inches. The SUV picks up speed, pulling away as I right myself and give chase. They're not getting away. Not with her.
Not a fucking chance.
I level my gun, aiming for the rear tire. It's a difficult shot—moving target, me on a motorcycle, other cars. But I've done harder things under worse conditions. And one popped tire shouldn't flip the vehicle, just slow it down.
I steady my breathing, letting muscle memory take over.
One shot. Two.
The third connects. The tire bursts with a satisfying pop, the SUV lurching to the right.
Josh clips a parked car and fights to maintain control as the vehicle dips and the metal rim grinds against asphalt.
A cascade of sparks trails behind them, but they keep moving, though slower now, more unstable.
"Update." Mike's voice crackles in my ear. "I've got a car. Where are you?"
I glance at the nearest street sign. "West on… Chambers, approaching West Broadway. They're heading toward the Holland Tunnel."
"On my way. Eight minutes."
Eight minutes and she could be gone. If they reach the tunnel entrance, make it onto Highway 78 toward Jersey City…
The SUV wobbles ahead of me, the damaged tire slowing but not stopping them. If I was in a car, this would be easier because I could ram into them and force them off the road. But in a motorcycle, I'll just get myself hurt. And I need to avoid an accident that could hurt Londyn.
I could take out a second tire and force them to a complete stop. But as I raise my gun again, doubt creeps in. If I blow another tire at this breakneck speed, the risk of flipping the vehicle increases. Londyn would be trapped inside during the rollover.
I lower my gun. Can't risk it.
As I'm debating options, slight congestion up ahead makes us both slow. This could be my opportunity. There's no way around—
The SUV finds an opening and accelerates. It darts onto the sidewalk, hitting an elderly man who is thrown to the side. Then it zips back into traffic just past the slow-down.
"Jesus, Mike. They hit someone."
I can't lose them, so I also take a risky maneuver onto the sidewalk, careful not to injure any pedestrians. A few people scream and shout at me. The man who got hit is on the ground, injuries unknown, but he's sitting up and a crowd is forming. Someone will help him. Thank, God.
I'm back on the street chasing the SUV.
"I could try to cut them off," Mike says.
"You're too far back."
Shit, what do I do? They need to be stopped or they could hurt someone else.
In the distance, I see the signs pointing toward the Holland Tunnel. If they make it to the highway, this becomes a high-speed chase with too many variables, too many ways Londyn and others could get hurt.
I accelerate, bringing myself level with the window Miller fired a shot from. I smash the glass with the butt of my gun, hoping the asshole gets tiny shards in his eyes.
He takes another shot at me and I duck out of the way just in time.
"Let her go," I shout over the wind and engine noise. "Pull over now. This won't end well for you." I'm able to peer into the backseat enough to see Londyn is bound. No seatbelt.
Miller takes another wild shot but then the gun clicks. He's out of bullets. Idiot wasn't even working with a full clip.
He smirks regardless, a smug twisting of his lips that makes me want to put a bullet between his eyes.
Actually, that may be the only way this ends. If I shoot Miller then Josh may finally give up and pull over.
When I glance at Londyn, she must understand what I'm thinking because she leans back, trying to give me a clear shot as she fumbles with her seatbelt.
I raise my gun but don't get my chance.
Miller quickly loops his arm around Londyn, pulling her closer to him. "Don't want this one hurt, do you?" He pulls out a pocket knife and presses it under her throat. "Back off."
"Sean!" Londyn's voice cuts through everything, striking my very core.
Shit. I need a new plan. Fast.
The entrance to the Holland Tunnel is getting closer. I've got seconds, not minutes.
The SUV swerves wildly to avoid a delivery truck, crossing into oncoming traffic briefly before cutting back. Its damaged tire sends it veering onto the sidewalk, scattering pedestrians. My heart stops as a young woman with a stroller barely avoids getting hit.
They're going to kill someone.
This ends now.
I have to take the shot and hope my aim hits the mark.
I raise the gun, trying to steady my breathing. Miller smirks, daring me to see if I can fire before he uses that knife.
As my brain is frantically searching for any other solution, several things happen at once, all courtesy of the beautiful, strong woman in the SUV.
Londyn throws her weight against Miller, catching him off guard.
Then she manages to get the knife out of his hand and stab his thigh with it.
While Miller curses, I swerve toward the SUV and smash the driver's window to grab the steering wheel.
He's startled and swerves toward a concrete street pole.
He's forced to slam on the brakes and jerk the wheel to avoid a crash.
The vehicle goes into a spin and two oncoming cars have to swerve around it. The other cars stop, pinning the SUV in place long enough for me to screech to a halt beside it. I reach through the driver's side window to unlock the doors, then pop Miller's door open.
I'm about to grab Miller to pull him out of the SUV so I can finish this, but he goes on the defensive. He shoves Londyn out first. Her hands and feet are bound, so I instinctively lunge forward so her head doesn't crack on the asphalt.
I get my arms around her and we go down together. She lands hard on her shoulder and gets the wind knocked out of her, but I manage to get my hand under her head just in time to provide a cushion. The ground scrapes my knuckles down to bone, but at least it wasn't her skull.
Pain radiates up my back from the twisted way I landed, but the adrenaline dulls the edges as I reach for the gun I dropped.
I'm not fast enough. The SUV peels away, clipping the front of a stopped car before leaving a trail of sparks.
There are too many onlookers in the way for me to try to blow out a second tire.
That bastard is escaping and I can't do a damn thing about it.
"Sean," Londyn whispers, trying to roll into a sitting position.
"Hey, stay there," I tell her, mentally aborting my mission to chase down Alan Miller so I can focus on what's most important: Londyn. "Where does it hurt, honey?"
"Arm. Head," she bites out.
"Anywhere in your spine or legs?"
"No. I can move."
"Okay. I'm going to lift you."
My back is screaming at me, and my right arm and hand sting and throb as I gather her up off the street and carry her to a bench on the sidewalk. She groans as I lay her down.
"My head," she groans. "It's all fuzzy."
I touch her hair and forehead gently, finding several bumps but no blood. As I pull out my pocket knife to cut the ties binding her, I say, "We'll get you checked out. Mike will be here soon." The adrenaline is wearing off and my hands are starting to shake.
I almost lost her.
I'm desperate to wrap her in my arms and never let go, but she's just been through something. She could be in decompression mode and need some space. I can't just—
"Sean." Her voice trembles around the word as her hands reach out to me. She must see something in my expression, some need for reassurance, because she says, "Green. Please. I need you."
I pull her into an embrace, careful not to squeeze too hard. My entire soul relaxes having her close. Safe.
She buries her face in my neck and sobs. "Thank you. You came for me. Thank you." Her voice cracks. "You found me."
I try to engulf her fully in my arms, wanting to shield her from a world that keeps trying to hurt her. Like I can erase the last half hour from existence. "I'll always come for you."
Her fingers curl into my shirt, holding onto me like I might disappear. "I knew you would. I knew."
I pull back enough to cradle her face and gaze into her with everything I have. "That man is never touching you again. I swear it."
She nods. "I know. I know you'll keep me safe."
For the first time, I'm free of doubts about myself, doubts I've let plague me for too long. I know I've screwed up in the past. I've made the wrong decision. I let professional boundaries blur so much I lost focus.
But now, every doubt is replaced by something I know deep in every muscle and vein and atom of my being: I love this woman. She is my purpose and where I belong, and nothing is ever going to threaten that again.
As I press my lips gently to hers, feeling a completeness I thought I'd never find, I sense someone approaching.
I glance up to find Mike gazing down at us with a lot of worry and regret. "What do you need me to do?" he asks.
When I reluctantly release Londyn, her body starts trembling from the shock of the kidnapping.
My back aches as I straighten. I hold out my palm to Mike.
"Keys to your car." He drops them in my hand and I motion at my motorcycle.
"I'll take Londyn to the hospital. Can you take my bike?
And deal with the police." As if on cue, there are sirens in the distance because a bystander must've called this in.
Mike jets his chin to a red sedan parked along the curb, then starts walking toward my bike, which is laying on the ground and still rumbling.
My back curses a protest at me, but I gather Londyn in my arms again and carry her to Mike's vehicle. Once we're both situated in the car and I start the engine, Londyn reaches across the center console to touch my wrist. She glances at my shredded knuckles and the patches of white bone.
She lifts my hand to her mouth and kisses where I'm not injured. "I knew you'd come for me."
I pull her hand toward me to kiss her fingers in return. "Always."