"Where are you going?"

Emmy's voice came from Nye's left. He looked over his shoulder and saw her squashed down the side of her Aston Martin, sitting on the concrete floor of the parking garage with a pizza box balanced on her knees. She put a finger to her lips.

"Olivia's in danger."

"Olivia? That's the girl you've been shagging?"

"No, that's the woman I'm in love with." He'd thought those words so many times, but he'd never spoken them aloud before.

"Wow. Never thought I'd see the day. What kind of danger?"

"I don't have time for this."

He carried on jogging towards his motorbike, parked near the exit, but Emmy abandoned her contraband meal and followed.

"I know that look," she said. "You're about to do something crazy."

"Don't try to stop me."

She caught up as he fished the key out of his pocket.

"Hell no, I want in. It's been a boring week so far. Meetings, meetings, more meetings. But I will postpone your fun if you don't tell me what's going on."

And she would, he knew that much. She might look like a pin-up girl, but she fought like a demon with the devil in her corner. Nye stopped to give her a sixty-second rundown, cursing every wasted second in his head.

"So, let me get this straight—you're going to ride to Upper Foxford and strangle Tate Palmer."

"That's pretty much it, yeah. You have a better idea?"

"As it happens, I do."

A smile crossed her devious face as she explained, and Nye couldn't help returning it. Emmy may be a world-class bitch, but when she was on his team, he loved that side of her.

"Good plan. Ready to go?"

She grinned. "Four miles, and whatever you do, don't get caught."

Nye knew there was a reason he'd bought this bike.

Emmy clung to his waist, blonde hair streaming out behind her as he blasted the Ducati 1098S out of the garage. He hit the first red signal ten seconds later and dodged a van coming across the junction as he ignored the light. Emmy had ripped off his registration plate before they left, but he'd still be lucky if he had a licence after this.

"Left," she yelled.

"That's a one-way street."

"Left!"

Oh, what the hell. If anything happened to Olivia, life wouldn't be worth living, anyway. Drivers laid on their horns as he swerved around them, focused only on covering the distance to Belgravia as fast as possible. Brake lights glowed ahead, and he bumped the bike up onto the pavement to avoid the traffic jam. Pedestrians scattered as he twisted the throttle. Shit. He was either going to hell or jail.

The first sirens sounded as they shot down the street Emmy lived on, and she reached past him with the gate opener in her hand. The huge iron gates opened slowly, oh so slowly. He revved the engine and squeezed through the gap, hurtling past the corner of Albany House just as a police car flew past with its blue lights flashing. The gates closed silently, hiding them, and Emmy's underground garage filled with the smell of burned rubber as he parked up next to the stairs in the far corner.

"Well, that was fun," she said, hopping off the back. "We'll have to do it again sometime."

"Are you insane?"

"Certifiably." She patted him on the ass as he climbed up to the ground floor next to her, two steps at a time. "Get what we need from the weapons locker, and I'll meet you upstairs."