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“Simon, for fuck’s sake, hold up.” Nick grabbed his arm.
“I don’t have any time.” Nick and Simon were similar in height, but Simon was practically vibrating on his toes to move. “If this was Li, you’d be the same.”
His best friend paled and didn’t have much to say after that.
He grabbed the black bag stuffed with his money. It meant nothing. He’d literally take a lighter to it for Margo if they asked him to. He barreled down the hall, but a huge fucker blocked the elevators.
He could feel someone behind him, but his sole focus was moving forward.
A word from Aidan, and the stunt double for the Incredible Hulk stepped aside with a snarl.
Donovan and Aidan followed him into the elevator as the rest of his team split between two other elevators.
Aidan crossed his arms over his huge chest. “This screams bad idea.”
“I don’t care.” Simon’s voice was flat and brittle. “They’ve given me no time. For fuck’s sake, it takes me half an hour on a good day just to get from Santa Monica to Ripper Records.” Simon sliced his hand through the air.
“I know.”
Simon swiveled his head to Donovan. It was the first time he’d spoken since the call. “If you know, then help me.”
Donovan rattled keys in his pocket then opened the keypad in the elevator and punched in something before snapping it closed again. “I don’t have time to get a chopper in the air. It’s on the fucking roof, but there’s nowhere for me to land in that part of the city and this bastard knows it.”
Simon’s eyebrows shot up. Donovan’s usually cool, cultured voice was acid and laced with a harsher accent than Simon had ever heard in the years he’d known the mogul.
Aidan swore. “Whatever you’re thinking, no.”
Donovan’s voice was still coated with something dark and wild. “What would you do if it was your woman? Your brother?”
Aidan’s fists tightened at his sides. “The difference in that question is that I’m trained to deal with this sort of thing. This is why you brought me in on this, Lewis. I’m here to make sure everyone gets out alive.”
Donovan’s eyebrow arched. “You may know your way around the dirt of a desert and the heat of the jungle—even the bowels of New York City. But this is Carson. It has winding, broken streets where people don’t look up from their fucking feet. Dead ends and parallel streets that lead nowhere. LA isn’t your home.”
Simon frowned. How did he know that?
Aidan sighed. “You’re fucking my plans to hell and back.”
“We’ll follow at a distance. Giving him a chance to get there within the timeframe.”
The elevators opened to a garage Simon had never seen before. Cars gleamed under the low lights. Dozens of cars in sleek black lines or gunmetal grays with a polished sheen that only extreme money could buy.
Donovan Lewis’s kind of money.
The man in question opened a lockbox on the wall beside the elevator. He pulled down two keys.
“How long since you’ve driven a motorcycle, Simon?”
Simon’s eyebrows shot up. “A few years.” But the hum under his heart opened and the ice began to melt. Donovan pressed a button on one of the fobs and the lights blinked to life on a dangerous looking motorcycle.
“Jesus.” Simon took the keys. “I…”
Donovan held up his hand. “I would do the same. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for the woman I love.”
Simon paused. He’d never seen Donovan with a woman other than a photo here and there at some party. Never the same. Never one who seemed much more than a prop. But there weren’t words enough for thanks. Or time to ask the questions he had. There was only one goal.
“There’s a private access road through there.” Donovan nodded down the darkened ramp to the left. “It will dump you out a block from the freeway. Aidan and I will follow.”
Aidan was already pacing, speaking into some weird earpiece that reminded Simon just how far out of his sphere he was. But he couldn’t think about that. Or just how much it meant to him that Donovan would do this for him. A hoarse whisper of thanks would need to be enough.
