Don't Drive Faster
Disclaimer: Oops. We forgot this one. We don't own them. If we did, then our money, souls, lives, and firstborn children wouldn't belong to our college. All the characters will be returned, even Ranger. Maybe.
Authors' notes: Thanks for all of the reviews. As you can see, Don't Drive Faster is indeed being continued J We don't hold any responsibility for destruction of property that might result from reading this fic while drinking.
Though I do wish Steph would stick to the Buick because of the protection on the thing, I like the Duc. Normally I climb into (or onto) the car with her, which has the added advantage of keeping her skips from trying anything. With the Duc, I fly. Some angels are unfortunate enough to be earthbound, but thanks to Steph's desire to fly, I get wings. The Powers That Be know I need them! There are very few things more fun than zooming above a highway at 65 mph, dodging streetlights, signs, and power lines.
Even though she's not working for Manoso full time anymore, he told her to keep the bike. Something about her record with his cars and the fact that the bike might survive her. It's been 5 months and so far it has survived, though some of that is probably because she doesn't drive it when she has to pick up skips.
This afternoon she's just trying to track down a skip named Jacob Bowman, a 40-something construction worker who robbed a liquor store.
We arrive at the site rather quickly, not that there was a flagrant breech of the posted speed limit, but have I mentioned that I fly quite fast when necessary?
The foreman was a huge muscular man, running slightly to fat, in short, pretty much what a person would expect. His guardian angel, on the other hand, looked about ten years younger and went three shades whiter when he saw me. Steph has something of a reputation among the angels in the area. They might be slightly jealous of my quick advancement, but not so much that they want Steph within a three mile radius of their charge.
A few whispers in his charge's ear results in the foreman thrusting a hardhat in to Steph's hands, and insisting that she wear it at all times on the site.
Steph wants to refuse, but after a not-so-metaphorical kick in the ass on my part, she puts it on with only a token protest. Basic safety assured, I settle in to watch the show.
"Does he have any friends who might be hiding him?" Steph asks.
The foreman shrugs. What is it with Steph and reticent males? "I told you before, he mostly keeps to himself."
"Do you mind if I talk to some of his coworkers? One of them might have an idea of where he is."
Steph, wandering around a construction site. On her own. No, NO, NO, NO, NO!
"Sure." I glare at the foreman's angel, who responds with an Italian hand gesture of which Steph is rather fond. If I wasn't so busy protecting her, I'd kick his ass. Maybe the foreman wants to ride in one of Steph's cars.
I really don't like construction. In the 50 yard walk, I have to steer her out of the way of several falling objects, a couple of tripping hazards, and one large pit.
Steph was halfway through questioning yet another big, brawny, smelly man, with an equally big, brawny smelly angel, when I froze. Guardian angels are not generally prescient, but when you have spent as much time as I have around Stephanie Plum as I have, you start to get a feel for certain things. Like right now. Steph is out of sight of the bike. SHIT! The bike!
A rather panicked mental nudge sends Steph sprinting back towards the parking lot. It was a rather easier trip this time, sometimes I think other angels deliberately steer stuff in to Steph's path, just to make me sweat.
Oh Shit.
Well, at least we found Bowman. Unfortunately, he is currently sitting in the cab of a cement truck. And we won't be using the bike to chase him down. You know how some Hard Rock Cafés have the back end of a car mounted on to the wall so it looks like it's actually driving into a wall? Yeah.
Bowman dumped a good bit of cement on to the back end of the Ducati. The handle bars and front end were still visible. It's not going anywhere anytime soon.
I just stood there and seethed. Steph wasn't so calm.
"You fucking asshole!" She screeched and ran for Bowman. As if I don't have enough problems! How the hell am I supposed to keep her safe if she keeps pulling stunts like this?
Bowman took one look at Steph, and his angel at me, and they simultaneously come to the one solution that would let them both survive. Bowman hits the gas and takes off down the street, still trailing cement.