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33
Daphne
Maybe me driving was a bad idea, but Drake thought it was better that his hands were free to shoot.
London's city streets sparkled in the cold, steady rain, their dark beauty amplified by the flood of adrenaline in my veins. Massimo wasted no time. Even before Drake could get his door closed, he fired a bullet, and I peeled out of our parking spot.
Sweat popped on my brow as I drove, the wheels skidding slightly as I took a turn too fast. My knuckles tightened on the steering wheel, trying to outmaneuver Massimo in the backstreets.
You can do this. You can do this. You can do this.
Drake kept a vigilant watch beside me and fired behind us, but Massimo dodged the bullets and stayed hot on our tail, hugging tight to his motorcycle.
I was familiar enough with the roads around my office, but as we got deeper into central London, I needed more assistance. Since it was so late at night, I didn't have the added benefit of getting lost in traffic.
And with every turn I made, the quiet night was shredded by the relentless roar of his engine and the pouring rain. We needed to shake him off, fast.
As we fishtailed again, my teeth were clenched tight, and my heart threatened to jump out of my chest.
We raced through the shadowy, rain-soaked labyrinth of central London, windshield wipers working overtime. Drake seemed to have an uncanny grasp of these winding, narrow lanes.
"Where am I going?" I yelled over the engine's roar.
"Finding a way out!" he hollered back. "Just follow my lead!"
He directed me around unexpected bends and turns. My pulse pounded with each sharp corner, fearing Massimo might ambush us from the next bend. Yet no matter how we darted or twisted, his ominous silhouette loomed dangerously close on the bike.
Drake's voice was low and tight. "Left! Great Russell Street!" His shout barely cut through the rain. I swerved onto the street, barely registering the sign. Massimo, his headlight a sinister glow, followed suit.
As we neared the British Museum, Drake took a shot at our pursuer then directed me toward St. Paul's Cathedral. The majestic dome illuminated our frantic drive. We weaved through late-night traffic, my grip tightening on the wheel as the rain grew heavier.
Around the cathedral, Drake fired off more shots. For a moment, it seemed to work. Massimo fell back a bit. But we couldn't let our guard down.
"Millennium Bridge!" Drake's voice barely carried over the rain. The pedestrian bridge over the Thames wasn't made for cars, but Drake's determined gaze told me we had no other choice.
We raced across the rattling bridge, Drake retaliating with gunfire. Despite the rain, Massimo managed to keep up. A sudden idea hit me as I spotted a sharp turn leading to a narrow alleyway. "Brace yourself, Drake!" I yanked the wheel hard.
Our car screamed around the corner, tires squealing on the slick cobblestones. Caught off guard, Massimo lost control. His bike skidded, throwing him into the cold Thames.
We didn't stop. Drake guided us to a hidden garage where we left the car. Catching our breath, we shared a sigh of relief, safe for now.
I could barely hear anything above the roaring in my ears. But something was very wrong with my hands. They were shaking. And I couldn't feel the tips of my fingers. Shaking was a bad sign, right?
Drake took my hands and warmed them in his. “Shhh. You're okay. We're safe now. He's in the river. Take a deep breath. Count it out with me. One, two, three. Good girl. Now release it slowly. One, two, three.”
After several deep breaths, I started to feel like myself again as my brain functioning came back online.
"Oh my God, that was terrifying. Is this what it's like for you all the time?”
His smile was rueful. “Most times I do a lot of paperwork and watching. But sometimes, yeah.”
Sometimes. Sometimes he was likely in far worse danger than this. My stomach knotted just thinking about that. “Okay, so what's next?" I asked, my voice shaky from the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. Drake exhaled slowly, looking out the rain-streaked window of the garage.
"We'll have to lay low for a while," he said, his voice heavy with concern. "Massimo won't forget this, and he'll be out for blood. But we'll figure it out."
This wasn't my life. How the hell had I ended up here? A week ago I'd never even seen a gun outside of television.
Drake turned to me, his dark eyes searching mine. "You okay?" he asked, his voice softening.
