CHAPTER FIVE

I drive slowly because the Thruxton isn’t built for two people and it’s illegal for me to have a passenger. I don’t need one of Atlanta’s finest to pull me over so Tane Kamaka can start bitching about being kidnapped and how he wants a hamburger. Thankfully the Thruxton’s engine is loud enough that conversation is impossible as long as we are moving. Tane’s hands are firmly on my hips—no splaying of his fingers, no squeezing, nothing. He’s practically a gentleman until our first stop sign. My helmet is very insulated, but when I roll to a stop I can hear his muffled voice over the idling motor. “What about that burger?”

I rev the throttle, drowning him out, then shoot across the intersection so he nearly falls off the rear of the bike.

The burner phone I bought at Circle K is crappy but still has Bluetooth, and my helmet has an integrated headset so I can make and answer phone calls while riding. Using voice activation, I tell the crappy burner phone to call the one number in its memory.

Caesar answers on the second ring. “Suzie?”

“I found Peaches, who had a package for Uncle Gavin. And by ‘package’ I mean a number cruncher named Tane Kamaka. That name ring a bell?”

“Tane Kamaka? No. What did you do with him?”

“Put him on the back of my bike. He’s hanging on to me for dear life right now.”

Behind me, Tane Kamaka shouts, “Who are you talking to?”

I ignore him and pass a slow-moving pickup truck, then weave back into my lane. “I’m heading your way,” I say to Caesar. He and Frankie live in a loft west of Midtown, about a mile and a half away from where I am now. “Hoping you and Frankie could keep this guy at your place for a day or two while I figure out what to do with him.”

“Can’t do it,” Caesar says. “We’re renovating. The kitchen got torn out today, and now the water isn’t working. Frankie’s on his phone arguing with the contractor. We’re probably going to a hotel tonight. Sorry.”

“Shit. Okay, change of plan. Any news about Uncle Gavin?”

“No. What are you going to do?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“Be careful.”

“Love you, too,” I say, and end the call.

“Hamburger?” Tane shouts.

I turn north onto Lowery and gun it. Hamburgers will have to wait.

“WHAT ARE WE doing here?” Tane asks as I roll into the parking lot at the back of the Store-N-Go.

I park the bike in my spot and cut the engine, then get off the bike and remove my helmet. “You talk a lot.”