Blurred Lines 1: CHASE
Chapter 93

Chase

Before crossing the street, I pulled out my phone and called Regina's cell.

"Sir?" she squeaked, startled by my call.

This girl will have a heart attack one of these days if she doesn't calm the f**k down.

"Did Anthony call you back?" I shoved my free hand in my pants pocket, keeping a calm façade, scanning my surroundings.

The same cars were parked on my building's side of the road. Motorcycles and bikes lined the front pa lot of Drip Coffee the coffee shop across the street. Pedestrians flowed in calm waves, going in and out of shops, milling around languidly. Early summer in Boston is a good time for a stroll. Since my office is a ten minutes walk from the park, and fifteen minutes from the nearest market and mall, the footpath was buzzing. It was hard to spot if the eyes watching me were in this crowd.

He's good. I'll give him that. If I hadn't worked with Eros for years, I might not have sensed him.

"Not yet, sir. Oh, wait... let me double-check. His message just came in. He said... he's still on site with the team in California," she murmured the last part, reading Anthony's message.

"Tell him I need to speak with him tomorrow," I ended the call, looking left to right before crossing the street. The cafe was busy. I was fifth in line at the counter, and each booth was filled with customers. I ordere

"Mind if I sit here?" I asked, aiming to blend in.

The guy lifted his eyes from his computer. "Not at all."

ewed coffee and sat with the guy occupying the booth with a good view of the street.

Three books were on top of his table - Accounting Made Simple, Law on Taxation, and Decluttering Your Mind-along with a notebook and a pen. He had an empty cup of coffee and a half-eaten cupcake. "Studying?" I interrupted him. I'll say he's still in college, too young to be working for the company around the area.

"Yes." He kept his gaze on his computer, fingertips slamming on the keyboard.

I scanned the crowd outside the cafe, the floor-to-ceiling glass window providing a view of the parking

That's when I noticed it. How could I have fcking missed that red Mustang? It was parked four building down from mine.

"Do you drink black coffee?" I offered. The college kid frowned, eyeing my untouched cup of coffee. "I hate wasting money." I glanced down at my wristwatch. "I forgot I had a meeting five minutes ago."

"Oh... sure," he shrugged, not giving me another glance as I left.

Anger rolling over me like heat waves on a desert, I sped walked down the footpath. I kept an iron-cla corol over my annoyance, hoping my gut feeling was wrong. It could be someone else, but eleven fcking out of ten, I say I know who was sitting behind the wheels on that Mustang. The windows were heavily tinted. I was three steps away from the driver's side when it rolled down.

Carlota fired daggers at me with her eyes.

"Get in!" The urgency in her tone made the tiny hair on the back of my neck rise.

Behind me, from the café where I had just walked out, a bike roared to life.

"Get f*****g in, Chase!"

There was no time to think twice. I rounded the hood of the car. My ss barely kissed the leather seat; Carlota made the car fly.

"Fuck!" My head slammed on the window when she swerved to the corner. I scrambled with my seatbelt. "What the f**k is going on, Carlota? Why are you following me?"

She groaned, overtaking two cars at a time, slamming her hand on the horn each time she almost hit an approaching car in the other lane.

"Move fuckers!" she hissed.

Carleta

You blew up my cover, that's what the fck is going on, she remarked, opening the glove compartment and tossing me a Beretta 92.

"You have sit tons of explaining to do," I groaned, I will get my explanation later, checking if the gun was loaded.

Twenty meters down, the bike that roared to life earlier was being driven by a guy wearing a helmet and leather jacket Studying the insignia stamped on his cut, I glowered. "What the actual fck?"

Carlota chuckled darkly. "You get the picture, yeah?" She cut through the traffic and parked the car in an empty alley. It was a dead end. She slid out of the car, and I followed suit. Beside the trash bin, she uncovered a bike concealed with an old gray tarp. I said and tossed her the gun, and she threw the keys to me.

It was like fcking Déjà vu. Carlota tucked the gun in her waistband and hopped behind me as I kick-started the bike. Our moves were in sync as if not a decade had passed since we last worked together.

She gave me directions, and we caught up with the biker in no time, cutting through traffic. It was evident that Carlota had been after this guy for some time now. She knew where he was going, which rattled the guy's driving abilities.

A thousand questions swirled in my head as the wind sliced over my skin with the speed we were going.

"Fck. He's improvising," Carlota grumbled. "I won't get a clear shot here."

The guy was headed straight for the market. In early summer, this particular part of Pinehills was swarming with tourists for the Pinehills farmer festival.

He abandoned his bike at the market entrance, its engine still running. On foot, Carlota and I pursued him. He caused a commotion as he went, grabbing everything he could, throwing them at us, hitting every person along the way. He turned over a basket of fruits, vegetables, and handmade crafts. Some sentences are incomplete if you are not reading this novel on FindNovel.net. Visit FindNovel.net to read the complete chapters for free. The vendors cursed and quickly picked up their products scattered on the streets: At some point, he even pushed a few pedestrians, causing a human obstacle for Carlota and me.

We kept a steady ten meters away from him. He kept glancing back at us, still wearing his helmet. He was panicking now. It dawned on me that this was not part of his job. He was good at shadowing his target. As much as possible, he was avoiding close contact. He was becoming desperate by the second. Distraught, he did something that made it impossible for us to follow him anymore.

He paused; our eyes locked. "Don't do it," I murmured.

He did. He pulled out his gun and fired five times into the air.

I grabbed Carlota's hand and dragged her to the nearest store - a bookshop - saving ourselves from the uproar of the frenzied crowd. He caused a fcking stampede.