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Heat scorched Kat’s face—betrayal burning hotter than fear.

Korolov was one thing. But framed by her own people?

Jane hurried around the side of the counter. “Running makes you look guilty. Stay and explain?—”

Kat shook her head. “No—” She paused at the front door, easing it open to check for anyone outside.

No-one there.

She hurried out the door and down flights of concrete stairs, Leo’s footsteps at her heel.

The Jaguar was straight ahead.

The wet night air dampened her face as he caught hold of her elbow and frog marched her right past the Jag.

Wait. What? She twisted. “Leonid. What?—”

His hold on her was iron hard.

“This has gone far enough.” He propelled her forward.

Kat struggled, but his hand might as well have been glued to her arm. “Leonid. The car.” She jerked against him. “What the hell are you doing?”

Leo’s face was blank. “Making this simple.”

A motorbike horn beeped. She pivoted away from the Jag. A powder blue scooter parked across the street flashed its orange hazard lights.

His stern expression unexpectedly cracked as he dangled a set of keys in front of her. “Our ride awaits.”

She glanced up. Light still shone from the windows of Jane’s fourth floor flat. “Are those?—”

His fingers were warm against her neck as he secured the helmet under her chin.

“Kat. Get on the bike.” His touch was gentle, but there was steel in his voice.

Kat gaped at him. “You stole her bike keys? When did you even?—”

He climbed on the bike and cranked the ignition. “Technically, it’s borrowing. Or swapping. I left my keys to the Jag as collateral.”

The bike engine buzzed to life—like a bluebottle trapped in a jar.

In what world was this a better option than the Jag?

“Leonid—”

“Kat. I told you. Get on.”

“But the Jag. This thing has a hairdryer for an engine?—”

Leo’s shoulders stiffened. He turned to face her, his eyes narrowed to glacial slits, the scar across his eye whitening as his jaw flexed.

“Kat.” His voice dropped to a dangerous register that somehow cut through the engine’s noise and made her stomach flip. “Don’t make me put you on the bike.”

He patted the seat, his voice far too calm. “Right now, every police officer in London is looking for a Jaguar XF with those plates.” His gaze snapped past her to the Jag. “Not a powder-blue scooter carrying a middle-aged couple, mid-domestic. Now . Get on the fucking bike.”

“We’re not?—“

“What?” The green of his eyes darkened—cobalt swallowing the light.

A couple.

The words stuck in her throat like broken glass.

“Nothing.” God. What was she thinking? Her world was falling apart and all she could focus on was the magnetic pull between them.

She swung onto the moped, arms circling his waist. Her training kicked in—exposed position, limited speed, powder blue color that screamed look at us!

Meanwhile, her body betrayed her—registering the hard plane of his abdomen beneath her palms, the heat of him through his shirt, the clean scent of his cologne cut with rain. Honed muscles shifted under her fingers, his heartbeat a metronome compared to her racing pulse.

Hell.

MI6 would be on them within minutes, and all she could think about was the man she’d sworn she’d never let close.

Focus, Kat.

She forced herself to scan the street, slowing her breath to match his. Time to pull her super-spy pants back on—the ones without the I have a massive crush on my fugitive partner tag.

The night shattered—blue strobes washing over the street as three black MI6 tactical vehicles tore around the corner, tires shrieking on the wet road.

Too late ? —

“Hang on.” Leo gunned the engine.

Kat tightened her grip as they shot forward. He veered down a pedestrian path barely wider than the handlebars, forcing a late-night dog walker to dive into the bushes with a startled yell.

She glanced over her shoulder at the wash of blue light.

Thirty seconds later, and we would’ve been trapped.

Sharp left, immediate right. The scooter’s tires hissed against wet concrete as Leo threaded them through narrow side streets parallel to the main road, the tiny engine screaming.

Kat pressed her cheek against his broad back as he navigated through the back streets with ease. Rain streamed against her helmet visor, distorting the neon shop signs into watercolor smears.

She instinctively moved with him as he cornered, melting against him with a synchronicity that felt dangerously good.

Each lean into a turn pressed her closer, his muscled back a wall of heat against her chest, a hint of his cologne hitting her nose.

She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the treacherous thought that crashed through her—that this, his body against hers with nothing but thin fabric between them, even now with everything on the line, felt more right than anything had in years.

At each cross street they passed, she caught staccato glimpses of black SUVs paralleling their route—one flash, then another. Not random vehicles, but a coordinated net closing around them.

They’re bracketing us.

She gave his waist a squeeze and raised her voice. “ Leonid .”

He nodded once, a sharp jerk of his head that told her he’d already spotted the pattern. He hooked a sharp right, bolting out onto a commercial street. The dazzling light from department stores whipped past.

She peered over his shoulder. Where was he going?

A black SUV screeched around the corner ahead, cutting diagonally across both lanes. Leo braked hard, the scooter fishtailing on the slick road as they skidded to a halt twenty feet from the vehicle.

The driver’s door flew open.

Victoria Eldridge scrambled out, her service weapon locked on them followed by several operatives in dark suits.

“Landon! Stop right there!” Eldridge paced forward.

Gunfire shattered the air. Kat flinched as a bullet punched a hole in the sidewalk inches from their rear wheel. What the hell?

Eldridge whipped toward her team. “What the fuck? Hold your fire!”

Leo wrenched the handlebars and floored the scooter.

It lurched violently, nearly sending them sprawling before he regained control, aiming for the arched entrance of a pedestrian jewelry arcade open for late night shopping. As they hurtled through the arched entrance a bullet gouged dust from an ornate column that flanked the entrance.

The arcade was a kaleidoscope of light and luxury. Display cases of diamonds glittered under spotlights.

“Move!” Leo bellowed, punching the scooter’s horn.

Shoppers scattered like startled birds, dropping bags and tripping over each other in their anxiety to escape.

Ahead, a security guard spoke urgently into his radio, standing in front of a towering display of crystal champagne flutes arranged in a glittering pyramid.

The guard lunged at them, but Leo swerved, the scooter’s tires squealing against the polished floor. His hand flashed to her waist, securing her as he executed a perfect counterbalance, leaning so far left her knee almost brushed the floor.

They missed the guard by a hair’s breadth.

But the scooter’s rear wheel clipped the display, sending the entire structure toppling into a cascading waterfall of shattering crystal.

The guard threw his arm across his face and dove sideways for cover.

“Sorry!” Kat yelled over her shoulder, the word immediately swallowed by shopper’s shrieks of panic.

She clung to Leo as they burst through the arcade’s far exit at maximum speed, the scooter going briefly airborne as it cleared the single step onto the pedestrian plaza beyond and shot across the open square.

Kat’s lungs burned as she dragged in air. The plaza stretched empty before them—no Eldridge, no tactical teams.

Leo slipped them into traffic like a ghost slipping through a crack in the world. Just another couple, out for a late-night ride through London.

As long as you didn’t look too closely.