Page 93 of Her Passionate Hero

“White Mercedes AMG,” Hunter yelled. “It’s Mateo. Rafael’s on the ground,” he waved backward. He was on his motorcycle in a heartbeat. By the time Hunter got to the top of the parking structure, he saw the car had ripped through the parking garage’s gate and had to swerve to avoid the broken wood on the ground. He saw the taillights of the white car going down Figueroa Street.

A game or a concert must have let out of the Staples Center, making traffic bad, really bad. Hunter weaved around cars, trying to catch up to the supercharged Mercedes. Fuck, did it have to be the AMG edition? Mateo took a turn onto Flower street, hitting a homeless man’s shopping cart, sending the man sprawling, his contents going everywhere. Hunter skidded sideways, barely missing the exploding plastic bags containing the man’s life.

The growl of his bike was loud without his helmet. He revved up his throttle and sped faster, then Mateo merged onto the 110 Freeway, and the race was really on. His bike got up to speeds he’d never seen before. Where was the California Highway Patrol when you needed them?

Mateo weaved in and out of traffic until finally, he couldn’t. Three lanes were blocked, two tractor trailers and one Prius all going the same speed. Hunter fell far back, hoping Mateo would think he’d lost him and stop the crazy-assed driving, and no lives would be lost on the freeway. He kept an eye on him, but the fucker darted forward when there was an opening and the game was on again.

Up ahead, he saw blue and red lights flashing as the highway patrol raced to catch up with the performance car. Again, Hunter fell back, watching.

Mateo must have realized he was at the end of the line because he sped up even more. Hunter could see the accident happening in his mind’s eye before it did. Mateo headed for the exit, but he hadn’t read the exit closure signs. He crashed through the orange signs straight into the cement barriers, and flipped the stolen car, disappearing over the side of the exit ramp. Hunter saw flames shoot up. The highway patrol skidded to a stop while Hunter kept driving down the freeway toward the next exit.

When Hunter was finally able to pull over to a stop on a side street, he patted the side of his bike. Damn, she had performed well. He fished his phone out of the deep jacket pocket and called Dalton.

“Where the fuck are you?”

“Still trying to figure that out. Got Rafael?” Adrenaline was pumped wildly through his veins. He quickly calculated how much information Rafael could give them about the threat against Aliana, hopefully, it hadn’t died with Mateo.

“I’ve got him and your helmet. He and I are having a nice little chat in the back of the 7-11 on Hope Street. You might want to join us.”

“On it.”

***

“Did you call Zed and Aiden?” Hunter asked as he dismounted the bike and ambled towards the two men, never taking his eyes off the cowering former valet.

“Yep. They said if we needed any help with clean up to call them.”

“Clean up?” Rafael squeaked.

“Was I talking to you?” Dalton asked as he cuffed him on the side of the head. “You talk when I tell you to talk.” Rafael whimpered.

“Careful Dalton, according to Aliana and Nicolas this guy might be on the side of the angels.”

“Yeah, sure he is, stealing cars, breaking into people’s homes. He’s a regular Mother Teresa. The way I heard it, he was there when Aliana was attacked, and he planted a bomb in her home. That makes him more than an asshole, that makes him an attempted murderer. This is not going to go down well.”

“You don’t understand, I was trying to save her life.” Hunter could see the whites of Rafael’s eyes, and by the sound of his voice, you’d never think he’d hit puberty.

“Rafe, you don’t need to worry about a police charge,” Hunter soothed. He took three steps forward, so he was towering over him. “Aliana is my woman. Do you think I’m going to let you see the inside of a cell?”

“You’ve got to believe me. She was my teacher in school. She was cool. I really liked her. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.”

“There is only one way for this to come down so you don’t end up like Mateo, and that’s if you provide the right information,” Hunter whispered softly.

“What happened to Mateo?”

“Yeah, what? Inquiring minds want to know,” Dalton chimed in.

“He’s dead, burned to death.” Rafael flinched and started to tremble. “It’s a bad way to go Rafael. Do you want to burn to death?” The kid opened his mouth, but no words came out. “Answer me,” Hunter barked.

“No,” he squeaked.

“Where is San Marcos? I want an address.”

“He’ll kill me.”

“Hold on Hunter,” Dalton laughed. “The 7-11 sells lighters.” He turned to leave.

“No! Don’t,” Rafael pleaded. “You’ll never beat San Marcos, and he’ll find out I’m the one who gave you the information. He won’t just kill me, he’ll kill my dad.”