Dante sighed. "Okay. I'll call Tenebrae and have someone look at it. Send me the address."
"Okay."
"Also," he added. "Could you meet and return the drive? I don’t want to risk any information leaking online. But I'd like all the decrypted information."
Morana frowned. "That's fine, but what after that?"
"We can discuss it later. I have to go right now."
With that, he disconnected and texted her the address. It was an apartment complex on the west side of the city, near the coast. That must be where they were holed up during their stay.
Morana got ready in record time, in loose black pants with multiple pockets and a loose sleeveless red top, simple but comfortable flats on her feet and hair in a ponytail. Hiking her black tote bag over one shoulder, with her phone and car keys in hands, the drive safely in the bag with her gun, Morana walked out of her wing towards the main gate.
Her phone rang just as she reached her car. She saw her father's name on the screen and rejected the call, sliding in her red Mustang and pulled out of the space. Two muscle cars pulled out behind her. Oh goody.
Morana looked in her rearview mirror and pulled into the traffic, switching lanes and speeding up, the rush, the hit, exactly the same as it always was. The traffic was light and allowed her to weave in between vehicles and she sped towards the coast, her attention completely on the road and on losing the damn cars.
She lost one, but the other stayed on her tail almost half the way and she realized, aggravated, that he couldn't be shaken. And she couldn't lead them to the meeting point. Fuck.
Gritting her teeth, she pulled her phone up and put it on speaker, calling the last dialed number. It rang. And rang some more, then disconnected with no answer.
She kept looking in the rear-view, noticing the other car hadn't moved at all, like a fly in the ointment, and just stayed on the trail.
It was getting very problematic because she was barely five minutes out.
Knowing she couldn't lose the tail before time irked, but she accepted it and slowed down considerably, redialling the number.
No answer.
She almost smashed her phone down in frustration, before taking a deep breath and cooling her mind. Dante wasn't picking up. Okay. Time to make the hard choice.
Scrolling through her contacts, she found the number she was looking for, her thumb hovering above the icon as her eyes drifted to the car again. And she pressed it down.
Her heart started to pound, stomach knotting.
And this, right here, she didn't understand. She'd faced her father with no reaction at all while he'd been interrogating her, and yet she'd barely heard the phone ring and her body had come to life, all responses functioning and alert. She needed to figure this out, for the sanity of her own mind. She also needed to figure out what the hell to do with her tail and where to go.
"Ms. Vitalio."
That voice. The voice of death threats and old whiskey. Morana swallowed, shaking herself out of it.
"Mr. Caine," she replied in an even voice, bringing her attention back to the road. "I'm supposed to meet Dante and my detail is still on the tail. He isn't answering."
Morana had half expected him to gloat that she was asking him for assistance. She definitely expected one scathing comment. What she hadn't expected was his somber tone speaking quietly.
"Dante is tied up in something important. Did he ask you to meet him at 462-"
"Yes," Morana interrupted.
There was a brief pause before he came on again. "Pull over wherever you are. Don't disconnect."
Heart picking up pace, Morana quietly pulled over, not knowing why she was even doing as he asked, and sat. She heard an engine thrum in the background and realized it was that damned bike. She did not need that right now.
She could hear him on the bike and a knot settled in her gut. He was quiet. Not the waiting-for-her-to-crack quiet. Just quiet. She didn't like that she was observing anything.
The sky rumbled loudly overhead, thunder crackling dangerously just as the engine's sound joined in the cacophony.
"Drive," he ordered curtly, and Morana looked in the rear-view, to see the bike come closer and closer to her tail. She pulled back into the traffic, her heart hammering with the weirdest sense of deja-vu hitting her. His bike smoothly inserted itself between the two cars again. She saw him slow down, saw the tailing car brake to avoid a collision, and he ground out again in a rough tone.
"Hit it."
Morana didn't hesitate this time, pushing her foot down and feeling the car zip straight ahead, adrenaline rushing through her system as the wind went wild around her. One last glance in the rear-view before she turned left showed her the other car far, far behind, and the bike zooming through the spaces in between cars and speeding towards hers.
Morana turned, going across the bridge, and sped towards the gate looming in front of her, guarding not a complex but one lone, tall building that almost touched the darkening sky. Quickly entering the parking lot as the guards waved her through, Morana looked for an empty spot and parked, turning the ignition off.
Just as she got out and locked the car, she saw the bike enter the parking lot, saw him insert the beast of a vehicle smoothly across from her car, a dark helmet on his head.
He wore tan cargo pants and a black t-shirt, his attire casual, telling her he'd not been meeting people. She'd always seen him in shirts and trousers when he was in public.
His back muscles flexed as he swung his muscled leg over it, his thigh bunching and releasing as he stood up, his tattooed biceps bulging as he pushed the helmet over his head.
Morana blinked.
Not at the scruff or the hair or the arresting blue eyes, but at the look on his face. For the first time since she'd seen him, she saw something akin to pleasure on his face, just a ghost of an expression but on a man like him, enough to be classified as an expression in itself. His eyes were on his bike, and Morana realized, surprised, that it had been the riding that had put that look on his face. She didn't know why that surprised her, but it did.
And then he looked up to where she stood, the expression fleeting now, and his eyes hardened, his face shutting down.
Morana held his gaze, her heart thundering as thunder roiled outside, the clap in the sky loud and high, her own pulse skittering for some reason. She didn't understand this, didn't know why she did this even. It was a game. A staredown. She didn't remove her eyes from his, and he didn't remove his from hers, neither willing to look away first.
The entire parking lot was empty, the sound of rain loud in the silence of the lot, like bullets pelting down on the ground from the sky.
Her phone rang, the noise startling in the quiet, and she looked down.
Dante.
"Yes?" she picked up, her eyes coming back to where he stood beside his bike, leaning against it with his arms crossed, his forearms thick, the sinews and veins and ink adding to the brutality of his form somehow, his eyes on hers. He would look relaxed to any casual observer, lounging against his vehicle. He was anything but. Morana could see the alert tilt of his head, see the focused look in his eyes, see the tensed muscles ready to jump.
"I apologize. An urgent matter came up. Have you reached?" Dante asked.
"Yes," she stayed still too.
"Great. Just give the drive to Tristan. He's in the penthouse," Dante informed her, while the man in question stood mere feet away, his intent gaze upon her.