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The sight was too tempting. She’d give herself fifteen minutes before returning to her office.
Walking along the gravel pathway that circled the compound, she pulled out her palm. After deleting several new messages from Tristan, she checked her alerts, those anonymous notices sent by her snoop program.
Zephyr must have been at work this morning, too.
He had chewed through another layer.
Lila sent a hasty message to her father. I’m killing that damn spider.
Her mood only worsened when she spied a familiar motorcycle across the street from the south gate. Whereas Lila’s Firefly had been built like a greyhound, the black Amazon resembled a pit bull, strong and sturdy with a barreled chest.
The rider dipped his helmet.
Lila thrust her palm into her pocket and stalked past two blackcoats manning the gate house. Both eyed one another nervously, choosing only to salute their chief, rather than offer good mornings.
Her temper thanked their better judgment.
She passed by the Amazon and its rider, continuing two blocks beyond the south gate until she reached Simone’s, a restaurant with an outdoor dining area. The windows were dark so early in the morning. Thin chains threaded through the chair legs, tables, and patio umbrellas, each ending in a little padlock. Lila shook a chair loose from the jumble and sat down, waiting.
The rider pulled up beside her and cut off the Amazon’s motor. It gave out one last halfhearted sputter and died.
“You’re still in the city,” Lila said icily. “You should take my advice and leave Saxony with your people. I might not be able to call off my father. I hear Westminster is nice this time of year.”
He popped up his visor, not bothering to get off his bike. He set his jaw, either in anger or annoyance.
Or both.
“Yeah, Westminster is nice if you want to freeze your balls off. You didn’t even look at my messages, did you?”
“Why would I? I told you that I was done. Don’t you understand the meaning of the word?”
“You complained about me not answering my messages?” He dug into a mesh bag on the side of his bike, tossing Lila her helmet.
She barely caught it before it slammed into her chest.
“Your Firefly is parked one block east of the south gate.”
“I’m surprised you went to the trouble. Your expression seemed to indicate a certain amusement at my predicament last night.”
“Amusement? I winked so you’d know I intended to take care of your bike. How much plainer could I have been?”
Lila considered the gesture. Tristan wasn’t the type to go out of his way for no reason. It was either a peace offering or he wanted—
“Go change out of those ridiculous clothes and get your bike. We have real work to do.”
Lila’s chin jutted out, and she drummed her fingers on her helmet absently, watching his face grow redder and redder when she refused his command.
He had only retrieved her bike because he wanted something.
He always wanted something.
“Thank you for rescuing my Firefly, Tristan, but it doesn’t change the situation. I was taken in for questioning once already. I’m done being tethered to you.”
“You said that you were done. I never said I was.”
Lila propped her boots upon the table, her spirits somewhat lifted when he gritted his teeth. “Done,” she sang out, hoping he’d take the hint. She’d seen the stubborn glint to his eyes before. It said he would tie her to the back of his bike if he had to, blackcoat be damned.
Her hand brushed her Colt. Dixon could always pick up Tristan later. A few hours of sleep and a tranq hangover would serve him right. She’d do it. They both knew it, and they both knew how fast she could draw and how accurate her darts were, too. He’d be snoring before he even got off the bike.
