Page 105 of Stolen By the Billionaire
His Vantage rode lower than Rogue Security’s oversized thriller-movie-mobiles, and the SUVs formed a pit around his car with walls of shiny black metal and heavily tinted glass.
The steering wheel under Blaze’s palms heated in the afternoon summer sun. Every time a vehicle in their vicinity changed lanes or their position, his peripheral vision picked it up, alerting him to the change in the pattern. His battle-ready state was upon him, and yet he could still taste Sarah’s scent in his mouth.
In the garage, he’d gotten a fraction of what he wanted. His body hungered for more.
Sarah was sitting in the passenger seat, her slim ankles crossed and her supple hands folded in her lap as she watched out of the front window.
But his focus remained on the road, the traffic, and the mission.
Rogue Security had given Blaze an earpiece connected to their communications system. The mercenaries called concerns about the other vehicles or chokepoints on the road ahead to each other.
The vehicles remained solidly in formation on the highway straightaways and spaghetti overpasses. The clustered bar chart of the glass high-rises of downtown Chicago gleamed in the distance.
Blaze examined the traffic patterns around them, watching for any vehicle that appeared too often or perched solidly near them, a stone in the otherwise flowing river.
They drove for hours through and around the city, following a circuitous route to avoid getting stuck or separated in a traffic jam or road construction and to throw off anyone stalking their escape.
Other vehicles crowded the freeway, entering and exiting the ramps. Blaze kept every bit of his attention on the road and the precision driving of the Rogue Security SUVs packed around them.
And yet, Sarah was only inches away from his right arm.
Sometimes, a sunlight beam dragging through the car’s windshield felt like the heat of her body grazing him.
The cars wove through traffic, braiding their paths down the wide freeway.
A white delivery van drove in Blaze’s five o’clock for too long.
Chatter started in the earpiece. Everyone started getting nervous, watching the van’s sliding door that was too near the trunk of Blaze’s Aston Martin.
Romain decided they would reduce speed to drop back.
If the van proceeded ahead, nothing more was needed.
If it didn’t, Rogue’s second chase vehicle would crowd the van and then, if necessary, run it off the road while the rest of the caravan continued.
When the vehicles slowed in sync, the boxy van changed lanes and passed them on the right. Sunlight flashed off its mirror as it veered off a left exit to another freeway.
False alarm.
Or they’d been spooked by Rogue’s tactic.
Their path took them through switchbacks and loops. Downtown Chicago appeared again in the distance and on the other side of the freeway as they passed it a second time.
After another half an hour, Sarah turned to Blaze and said, “About what happened back in your garage—”
“Not now. Save it for after we get to the open highway.”
“Right.”
A red Toyota sedan stayed in Blaze’s driver’s side mirror for half an hour, tucked behind Romain’s SUV in the middle lane. Male voices chattered in his com again as everyone watched the red Toyota and debated whether to force it away from the convoy.
Finally, it darted for an exit near Aurora and was not replaced.
Blaze didn’t breathe easier. If an actual pursuer was in the traffic somewhere, they hadn’t found it.
Sarah asked, “Are we on the open highway yet?”
“Not quite.”
