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However, our escape was short-lived as both vehicles behind us suddenly lit up their headlights and screeched their tires, signaling that we were being followed. I didn't dare look back and tried my best to keep the bike steady amidst the powerful gusts of wind, with Catalina cowering in front of me. The last thing I wanted was to be thrown off the bike. I didn't know what was going on, but I knew that all hell was going to break loose when Jameson found out that I had just rescued the enemy.
I could hear the roar of their engines as they gained on us. We were outnumbered and outgunned, and I knew that we had to act fast. I yelled at Catalina to hold on tight as I accelerated the bike to its limit, trying to outrun our pursuers.
The rain continued to pour down on us, making it even harder to see the road ahead. I swerved left and right, trying to shake off the cars behind us. Bullets whizzed past us, and I knew that we were in deep trouble.
I spotted a narrow alleyway up ahead, and without hesitation, I veered the bike into it, hoping to lose our pursuers. The alley was dark and narrow, barely wide enough for the bike to pass through. I could hear the cars skidding to a halt behind us, their engines still revving.
We emerged from the alleyway onto a deserted street, and I could see the road to the clubhouse up ahead. I knew that we were almost there, but I also knew that our enemies weren't far behind us. I had to make a choice, and I veered the opposite way.
I swerved down a narrow alley, feeling the bike scrape against the walls as we picked up speed. Catalina's fingers dug into my jacket as she held on tight, and I could hear her panting with fear. I didn't blame her - I was scared too.
But I had to keep my wits about me. As we turned a sharp corner, I caught a glimpse of our pursuers in my peripheral vision. They were gaining on us, and I knew we had to lose them somehow.
I spotted a flight of stairs leading down to an underpass and made a split-second decision. Without hesitating, I hit the throttle and launched the bike over the stairs. We soared down the steps and landed on the ground with a jolt.
I could hear the sound of screeching tires above us as our enemies tried to follow. But it was too late - we were out of their reach. For now, at least.
I took a deep breath, feeling the adrenaline coursing through my veins. Stopping the biker, I turned to Catalina, who was looking at me with a mix of fear and awe. "You okay?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
She nodded, her eyes wide. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. How did you do that?"
I grinned, feeling a rush of pride. "Just a little trick I learned."
But I knew that we weren't out of danger yet. We had to keep moving, keep running. Those men weren’t going to let up, but for the moment, at least, we were alive.
4
SNARE
I satacross from her in the booth, deep in thought. We were on the border of Louisiana and Arkansas. My mind raced with options. Should I head to Nashville and contact Jameson? Or maybe head West through Central Texas and seek help there? If I didn't report in soon, I'd be presumed dead or accused of aiding and abetted the enemy. Either way I was screwed.
She huddled over the coffee mug, rubbing her hands together to warm them up. Both of us were completely soaked from the relentless rain outside, and I had lent her my leather jacket to keep her dry. It was a stroke of luck that we stumbled upon this open diner.
I still couldn't believe how we managed to survive the worst of the storm. We rode through it fueled by fear and adrenaline until the rain gradually started to let up as we approached the border. As soon as I saw the first lit structure, I knew we had to stop there and wait out the rest of the storm.
We sat in silence, not speaking a single word to one another since we sped out of New Orleans. She still didn’t know who I was. I had made sure that she had never seen me before, keeping my identity hidden from her, or so I thought.
"You're Scotty," she whispered.
My eyes were fixed on her mouth. My name sounded so soft as it rolled off her tongue. The fact that she’d heard of me nearly made me smile. I assumed Abigail had told her who I was, since she was the only one who ever called me Scotty.
"How did you know where I lived?"
"I didn't. I was hoping to find Abigail or Riddick before they left to Vegas."
"They've been gone for two days."
"Shit," she muttered while staring out the window.
The rain pelted on the concrete, silhouetted by the single yellow working streetlight that lit the parking lot.
"Who were they?" I asked, trying to get more information.
"Colombians, I think," she replied.
"You think?" I raised an eyebrow. "Don't you speak Spanish?"
She snapped, "Do you think I'm the accent wizard or something? They spoke Spanish, that's all I know. They sounded Colombian."
