Page 197 of Off Limits Mogul

I rev the engine, ready to bolt when the light changes to green. When it does, I’m gone. On the highway, I’ll hit the gas and speed away. Within the city limits, I have to be more careful,which is why, at the next red light, we meet again. And again, he pesters me.

Dammit.

My attention is on the traffic lights, praying for them to change.

Come on. Come on.

I peek to my right, Jedd has both hands on the steering wheel, ready to keep up with me.

We leave the intersection at the same time when the light turns green, but we don’t go far.

A deafening crash and the screeching sound of tires have me jumping out of my skin. My head whips to the side. Horror suffuses me as a vehicle––that must’ve run the red light––slams into the back passenger side of Jedd’s car, causing it to swerve in my direction.

Holy fuck.

In an attempt to change lanes to save myself, a vehicle rear-ends me, causing me to lose control of the bike.

Shit, shit, shit.

Everything happens ridiculously fast, at the same time it’s like everything is in slow motion.

Right before the bike––seven-hundred-plus pounds of metal––hits the asphalt with me still straddling it, I leap off it, using my advanced training as my guide. There’s no time to worry about oncoming traffic. I can only pray. I hit the ground hard, and my body rolls a few times until I land on my back.

I’m still alive.

I try to move, but everything hurts.

I try again.

Same result.

Dear God.

Panic sets in.

As I lie there motionless, I’m aware of the frantic commotion surrounding me. People are shouting and horns are blaring.

“Call 911.” A man near me tells someone. The man kneels by my side, his leg brushing my arm. “I have CPR training, but you landed pretty hard. I don’t want to shake you in case of a spinal injury. Can you hear me?”

My mind must be playing tricks on me, because the voice sounds familiar.

“Can you hear me?” He yells his question this time.

I shift my eyes so I can catch a glance of the man hovering over me through the smoky dark tint of my visor. I burst into tears when I recognize him.

“Shane.” My throat is scratchy and my voice comes out too faint for him to hear me.

“Squeeze your hand into a fist if you can hear me,” he says.

I do as I’m told.

“Good.” The relief in his voice is unmistakable. “Help is on the way.”

I move my fingers, calling him to me.

He leans closer.

“You’re going to be okay,” he says.