Levi and I exchanged glances before laying our hands in hers.
“Mmm,” she hummed noncommittally, using her thumb to spread first my hand open and press the lines, then his. “This is new, hmm? It’s strong but new.”
We didn’t answer. I held my breath.
“Dark and light, skeptic and mystic. One heavy, one light. One sees only good, the other what’s bad. There’s a place in the middle, where the sky kisses the sea. That’s where you’ll find it, but secrets will stop you. Trust is the only way. And if you don’t …” She shrugged. But when she looked back at our hands, she frowned. “There is something else, another—”
The music went silent, replaced by a voice on a bullhorn announcing the NYPD’s presence, telling everyone to stay where they were. By the sound of it, no one was listening.
“Oh fuck,” she said, snagging her crystal ball as she stood, knocking back her chair. “Better run for it, you two.”
We were already running for the tent flap that dumped us into chaos. My heart was a ticking bomb in my chest as I watched everyone panic, running in circles. The only ones who were calm were the carnies, and they seemed to just fade into the shadows and disappear.
“Come on,” I said, grabbing Levi’s hand. “I know a back way out.”
“How do you know—”
“Shut up and come on!”
And thank God he did.
8
Some View
LEVI
I followed Stella around the back of the fortune teller’s tent, casting furtive glances over my shoulder with the expectation of finding a cop with a nightstick. But they were occupied at the mouth of the tent with the cluster of youths scrabbling to get out.
Stella’s hand ran along the wall of the tent, and when it disappeared into a fold, she let out a whoop of excitement. “Come on, this way.”
She started to lift it, and I took the heavy flap from her, opening it enough that we could escape into the nearly pitch-black warehouse. Her heels clicked, her hand damp in mine as she moved with some certainty toward a back corner. Behind us, the tent was lit up, all red and gold and filled with pandemonium.
Stella slowed, feeling along the wall. “There has to be a door around here somewhere,” she muttered.
I glanced around, looking for a sliver of light. “There,” I said, pointing toward the corner.
We picked up our pace, panting as we reached the door.
Stella paused, hand on the handle. “Hope it’s not an emergency exit.”
“And if it is, get ready to run.”
A curt nod, and she pushed, opening it just enough to peer out. I leaned over her to get a look of my own.
“We’re good,” I whispered as if someone could hear us. “Go.”
Out the door we spilled, and she turned for the closest opening to the alley. But I spun in the other direction, pulling her with me.
“I’ve got a ride out of here, this way,” I said.
And with the flash of a smile, she followed, and we ran for it.
There wasn’t a person in sight as we rushed down the alley, the commotion at the front of the building echoing in the streets, the alley, everywhere it seemed. When we hit the other street entrance, we stopped, chests heaving from exertion. I kept her behind me, sticking my head out to scan for the cops.
“All right,” I said, “let’s go.”
Without running, we hurried away from the warehouse, trying to look inconspicuous, which wasn’t easy, given that Stella was in a bustle and top hat.
And we were just about to turn the corner where freedom waited in the form of an Indian Scout—salvation on two wheels and a hundred horses of power—when we heard an authoritative voice from well behind us shout, “NYPD! Stop where you are!”
“Fuck!” I hissed, and we took off in a full sprint around the corner.
I expected Stella to look afraid, to be worried or anxious—or worse, to stop running. But instead, she laughed, her face alight with the thrill.
It was unbearably hot.
We skidded to a stop at my bike, and she hopped on the back, her eyes wide but lips smiling, thighs spread—a detail I tried to ignore so I could effectively unlock my helmet and hand it to her. I didn’t wait to see what she did with it before throwing my leg over the seat and starting the bike with a rumble that drowned out the footfalls and voices coming from behind us.
“Hang on,” I shouted over my shoulder, and when her arms clamped around my middle, I took off with a thunder and a screech. The back wheel kicked sideways, my foot keeping us from toppling over while the rubber sought purchase.
The second it did, we were off like a shot.
I glanced back just in time to see a couple of cops round the corner—one of them on his radio, the other with his hands on his knees—the sight interrupted by my bowler hat flying off in a spectacular spin before landing in the street behind us.
Eyes forward, I leaned in, gunning it.
Through the streets I wound, knowing no one could catch us and hoping we were far enough away for the five to have missed my plates.
We were blocks away and finally obeying the speed limit when one of her arms let go so she could flip up the visor of her helmet.
“Franklin and Hudson,” she shouted over the engine.
I nodded and took a left.
Stella fitted herself against my back, her arms tightening around my waist, bringing every curve flush against me. There was no way to speak, giving us time to think. To anticipate. The hum of energy in every little movement—the shift of her fingertips, the flex and release of her thighs as I threaded in and out of traffic. My hand wanted nothing more than to stay on her bare thigh, where it could note the softness of her skin and the long stretch of leg leading to an ass that vibrated on the leather behind me. Every moment that hand had a job to do on the handlebars was a moment mourned as I sped toward her place, eating up the minutes until I could get my lips on her again.
But first, I had to talk to her. See where she was, what she wanted. Tell her I was leaving.
Prepare myself to drop her off and go home alone.
Niggling dread snaked through my belly.
The lie I thought I could tell without upsetting my conscience felt bigger, sharper than it had even a few hours ago. Because I really liked her. I liked her enough that I wondered if I should go upstairs with her if she offered. And I had a good feeling she was going to offer.
But there had been a moment when I tipped up her chin and looked into her eyes that a thought struck me like lightning.
Stella Spencer wasn’t the girl you casually fucked. She was the girl you held on to, basked in her shine as long as you could.
And if I lied to her, that wouldn’t be very long.
I knew what I should do, which was deposit her on her front step and ride away before I got myself in too deep. If I stayed, I’d be making a choice I couldn’t back out of. And if I fucked this up, I’d put my career and Billy’s livelihood on the line.
My heart sank, sucking the joy out of me as it went. I couldn’t do this with her, not now, not until the article was done and she knew the truth. Didn’t matter how badly either of us wanted to. We’d both regret it, even if she didn’t know it yet.