“It’s because I don’t do what I’m told that you even know. Unless I can convince my father otherwise, he’s going to turn your name into Chief Shaw on Monday as a suspect.”
“Of course he will.”
“Hey, I bought you what time I could, and I don’t like my chances of convincing him to let this go. People are going to want answers if the true cause of the explosion gets out, so you better hope that Chief Shaw can keep it under wraps. It hasn’t been so long since the Almstakers, or
have you forgotten?”
“No, I haven’t forgotten, but Bullstow forgot about the Almstakers when they couldn’t prove that the group was responsible. They’ll do the same now.”
“Bullstow didn’t forget. They found the cause of the explosion and the culprit. It wasn’t even terrorism. But this one? This was—”
“What we did wasn’t terrorism. It was an escape, for you and the slaves in this city. What do you want me to say, Lila?”
She startled at the use of her first name. Even after several years, Tristan had never used it. “I don’t want you to say anything. I always knew you didn’t respect me, but I thought you at least respected the work.”
“I respect you, or I wouldn’t team up with you. You’re angry right now. Fine. Just drop me a line when the next job comes up. I’ll—”
“You don’t get it, do you? There won’t be another job. As long as I don’t hear another word about the AAS, I won’t report you to Chief Shaw, and I’ll try to convince my father not to, either. Don’t push it, though. The AAS is dead, do you understand?”
She crept forward and rifled through Tristan’s pockets until she found her stolen jammer.
He held his hands at his side and let her.
“I’ve bought you what time I can, but you and your people need to leave Saxony before Monday morning. Your life depends on it. Don’t contact me again.”
Lila turned her back on the man and slipped from the alley, cutting off the jammer as she hopped back on her bike.
She needed to get back home, dive into her work, and find out Zephyr’s identity. She couldn’t do that by lingering with petty criminals. She shouldn’t even have come. Her father would be livid if he found out that she had warned Tristan to skip town.
But she owed him that much. They both did, whether her father admitted to it or not.
Lila shoved her helmet over her head and flipped the kill switch on her bike.
A blackcoat called out across the street, trotting toward her, two pieces of paper lodged in his fists.
Lila pretended not to notice, and hit the start button on her Firefly. The man sprinted toward her as soon as the motor roared to life. He stood in front of her, finger tapping on her helmet, Saxony rose stitched onto his blackcoat.
A scar crossed his face.
Lila cut her bike’s engine, pulling off her helmet. There wasn’t enough room to go around him, anyway.
“You’re in an awful hurry to ride away,” Sergeant Perv said, the moment her engine sputtered and died. He stared at her face, not as though she were a person, but a room in which all the furniture had all been moved a few centimeters to the left.
It wasn’t that he recognized her as an heir. Though she was of age, she had never formally assumed her position as heir, nor had she ever given an interview. Therefore, newspapers could not legally run her picture. Neither could they post it online without dire consequences. As such, few people in New Bristol recognized her face when they saw it.
Lila enjoyed the loophole and the anonymity it provided.
“I’m late,” Lila said, slipping her keys into her pocket.
“Late for what?”
“For a date with your father.”
The blackcoat glared. “This is an expensive bike. Where’d you get it?”
“At a dealership.”
“Which one?” he asked, circling her, his eyes locked on the bike. “This is a lot of bike for someone who lives in East New Bristol.”