Elora felt a scream rising from her chest as they cut across the junction, passing between a white van and a truck in a gap barely wide enough for the bike. The helicopter descended low enough for her to see a man leaning out of a side door, rifle tucked into his shoulder as he a prepared to take a shot, but they were moving too fast for him and rode beneath the helicopter before the pilot had time to react.
The way ahead was clear, and Bray squeezed more speed from the bike, leaning hard into bends that wouldn’t have been noticed if travelling at a normal pace. A second later and she was thrown into his back again as he braked. The front of the bike dipped down and her chest crushed the air from her lungs. He leaned hard right, almost bringing her knees into contact with the road before accelerating again down another side street.
Above, the helicopter banked with them and she could feel the eyes of the gunman as he stared down his scope. Bray’s erratic manoeuvres were the only thing stopping her from being shot.
Bray swerved the bike, decelerating as he turned towards the pavement and mounted the curb, going straight over and down a set of concrete steps. The bike took the shock hard and Elora’s teeth crashed together as it bottomed out before Bray twisted the throttle again, racing them along a narrow footpath that cut through a park.
Reaching the park exit, Bray slid the bike so when they were out they were already facing down the road and she was thrown back once again, holding tight around him to keep herself from toppling off.
Racing on they came to a large roundabout that connected with the M25, they leaned over as they went around then rocketed down a slip road to join the motorway. Elora only registered that they were heading into oncoming traffic as her gaze fell onto the huge grill of an articulated lorry.
They swerved between it and a car, cutting between lanes amongst startled drivers and leaving them in a chorus of horn blasts. She wondered what Bray was doing when her gaze fell on what was ahead. They were about to enter the Dartford tunnel.
The wide mouth of the tunnel swallowed them as they drove into the oncoming traffic. A line of tiles that made up the tunnel walls, suddenly began to pop and explode beside her. Bullets thudding and leaving black holes in the surface, the gunman firing in an attempt to kill them before they went out of sight.
Every shot missed, but she had little time to dwell on it as once again the Ducati’s tyres locked up and she was squashed up against Bray’s body. He dragged his left foot on the floor and did a 180-degree spin, so they were now facing back towards the tunnel entrance; or exit, now that they were heading in the right direction.
He waited a moment, revving the engine but not releasing the clutch.
“You alright?” he shouted over his shoulder.
“I’m still alive.”
He let go the clutch causing the back tyre to squeal. They emerged into daylight, leaving the safety of the tunnel. She expected the helicopter to be hovering above, waiting for them to appear.
“Where’s it gone?” she shouted through the helmet, unsure if Bray could hear her over the roar of the engine.
He tilted his head, checking in the wing mirror. “It went ahead to the other side of the Thames. They expect to ambush us when we come out.”
Elora’s shoulders released a little of the tension she had being feeling as the pursuit carried on. But it didn’t affect Bray who accelerated back up to top speed. She guessed if they carried on like this it wouldn’t be long before they got far enough away from their pursuers that they’d be safe. Yet it seemed Bray had other plans.
He steered the bike down the next junction and powered around the roundabout and headed down a country road, signposted for Epping Forest. A moment later, he slowed and took a detour down a bumpy lane that had once being made of tarmac but was now mainly potholes and mud. The back wheel of the bike tried to spin every chance it got, the tyre too slick for this kind of terrain, yet somehow Bray kept them upright and riding at a terrifying speed.
The lane ended at a field which contained a large wooden hay barn and stables. Two chestnut mares lifted their heads to regard them curiously. Bray stopped the bike at the steel gate that led to the field.
“Open it,” he ordered.
Cramp threatened her inner thighs as she swung her leg off the bike and hobbled to the gate. Lifting the rope over the post, she shoved the gate inwards and closed it again after Bray rode the bike through. Then went to join him in the barn.
“What now?” she asked, removing the helmet and letting her dark hair fall.
Bray was busy pulling an old horse rug over the bike, his back to her.
“We need a new ride. This one’s been compromised and it’s too risky to stay.”
Elora watched him move to the open door and search the sky.
“They’re back in the air and will most likely follow the motorway for a while, thinking we tried to make a clean get away.” He turned back to her, removing the sunglasses and hung them from the neck of his t-shirt. “We need to go back into the city.”
“Why?”
“You need to reach a safe house. If this takwich has people in the police, he’ll have them scouring all exits out of the area. He may even have the CCTV’s monitored too. We need to be careful. And we need to keep moving before they work out what we’ve done and head back.”
He scanned the air a second time then gestured for her to follow and set off jogging across the field. By the time she caught up with him, he was through and waiting for her beneath tall conifers that skirted the lane. She no sooner joined him than he took off again. Sweat had already begun to stick her vest to her back, the heavy leather jacket didn’t help as she tried to match Bray’s pace. Yet he seemed to speed up, hugging the tree line and rolling over the uneven ground as smoothly as a cat, where she felt cumbersome, bounding on behind him, feet finding every hole and tree root whilst her face found the thin branches.
At the end of the lane was a bus stop, Bray was leaning against the post studying the times printed on the wall as she arrived, out of breath. He checked his watch then gazed down the road as a red double-decker bus rounded the corner.
“Right on time,” he said, then looped his arm through hers as he held out his other to stop the bus. Then under his breath muttered. “Calm your breathing. You’re going to get the driver wondering what we’ve being up to down this quiet country lane. And put these on.” He handed her his sunglasses.
Elora felt her face redden as she slipped them on, thinking about his words as the bus pulled in and the door swung open. She let herself be pulled aboard as she tried to control her breathing, but the more she tried the worse it got.
She was relieved when Bray paid their fares and led them to a seat near the rear of the bus although they could have sat on any of the seats as they were empty. He sat beside the window and surprised her by putting an arm over her shoulder, pulling her close to him. He leaned in closer, putting his mouth towards her cheek as if leaning in for a kiss.
Elora’s body went rigid, her eyebrows came together as she struggled to comprehend his intentions.
“We need the driver to think we’re lovers.” His breath was warm against her ear.
Her mouth fell open.
“You mean, like boyfriend girlfriend?” His lips tenderly brushed against her cheek and she felt her face flush.
“Sooner or later they’ll find the bike and track our movements to the bus stop. They’ll interview the driver. But instead of picking up a pair of panicked looking individuals, one of which had violet eyes, the other badly riddled with acne, he picked up a couple who hadn’t a care in the world but each other. With any luck he’ll have forgotten us completely.”
“Oh,” was all she could think of saying as he relaxed back into the seat, pulling her in close. She rested her head on his shoulder and gazed out of the window, watching the black dot of the helicopter hovering above the motorway and trying not to think about the close contact with Bray.
For some strange reason it gave her butterflies in her stomach, a phrase which she had never understood until now. But why him? She’d had a couple of boyfriends before; nothing solid, just a bit of fun and her temper usually put an end to the relationships. This feeling she was experiencing with Bray was something new and she had only known him for a couple of chaotic hours. Unless it was the fact that he had saved her life at least twice. Probably that and the fact that he was the most gorgeous boy she had ever seen.
Without realising it, she found that her gaze had slipped to his face as he stared out of the window and was glad she was wearing his sunglasses. It wouldn’t be too hard to act like they were lovers.
