“You’re right. I’ll be damned if this is my end.” He opened the passenger door of his SUV. “Get in. Lock the doors.”
She hurried to do as he asked. Her hands were shaking as she called 911.
Chapter Four
Greer activated his comm unit as he walked between the two vehicles. “Max, you read me? Got a situation here.”
Angel’s voice came over the line. “Not Max. I got ops. Go, Greer.”
“Got a couple WKBers doing wheelies around our vehicles.”
“Roger that. I’ll alert the police.”
“Don’t need help. Just calling in an update. Tell Kit the professor had some interesting info. I’ll be stopping by on my way up the mountain to hand it over. I’m out.”
Greer stepped forward just as one of the bikers peeled in close. A quick punch separated him from his bike. Sparks flashed as the bike spun out across the pavement. The biker rolled twenty feet, then lay still.
The professor’s car alarm went off. Greer looked back in time to see the other biker lean into the back passenger door. The doc was already out of his SUV and was doing a tug-of-war with the other biker over her laptop case across the backseat of her car…and she wasn’t winning.
Greer jumped up on the hood of her car and ran over the top, leaping down on the opposite side to land on the biker’s leg, snapping it against the edge of the floorboard. The biker screamed and fell backward, out of the car empty-handed, holding his shin.
The cop sirens were coming close. Both of the gangbangers hobbled over to their bikes and managed to take off. One of the cop cars stopped beside Greer and the professor, and the other went after the bikers.
Greer looked over at the professor, who was clutching her belongings to her chest as if they were injured children. Her face was ghost white, her eyes huge. He leaned her against her car, afraid she’d drop without some support.
The lady cop came over to them, her hand on her service weapon. “Dr. Chase, you okay?”
“Yes,” she said, as if realizing the cop wanted a verbal answer, not just the vigorous head nodding she was doing.
“Who’s this?” the cop asked, looking at Greer.
“A friend. Greer Dawson. Thank God you were here,” she said, looking up at him.
“You want to tell me what happened?” the cop asked.
“Some bikers just came up and started to harass us.”
“They were—” Greer started, but the professor spoke over him.
“Just some random bikers,” she said as she white-knuckled her belongings.
“Looks like they were after—”
“Like they were looking for trouble.” Again she interrupted him. “I guess, since we were the only ones around, we caught their eye.”
He frowned down at her, wondering what she was doing. Without a doubt, the bikers had come for her laptop.
The cop looked from her to him, then nodded. She, too, had caught the professor’s redirect. “You should probably clear out. Call the office tomorrow—I may need a statement from you. You all right to drive?”
Doc nodded. The police officer got back in her vehicle, but waited for them to go. Greer looked down at the still panicked woman. “Let me drive you home.”
She shook her head. “No. I need my car.”
“Then let me follow you home. Just to make sure they aren’t waiting for you there.”
She breathed a relieved sigh. “You mind?”
“Not at all.” He grinned at her. “I’m always up for kickin’ some asses.”
The drive to her house was short. A few miles only. He checked in with Angel on the way. “Yo, Angel.”
“Go, G.”
“I thought the WKBers were there for me, but they were after the professor’s laptop.”
“Word from the cops is they gave them the slip.”
“One of them has a broken leg. See if he shows up at a hospital. Don’t think he can make it all the way back to the WKB compound without medical attention.”
“Roger that.”
“I’m taking the professor home. I’ll stop by Blade’s on my way back up the mountain. I’m out.”
Greer followed the professor into a newer townhouse subdivision. Each unit had a garage in the back next to a small yard. He followed Dr. Chase down the alley to her unit. She parked in the garage. He pulled up behind her.
Leaving his engine running, he got out to say good night. She locked her car and faced him, carrying her laptop and purse. The bright glare of his headlights made her eyes huge and her face pale. The night had been a drain.
“Good night, doc.”
She didn’t answer. He wondered what she wasn’t saying.
“You gonna be okay?”
Her “yeah” sounded like a “no.”
He looked beyond her to the door into the house. “Want me to clear your house?”
“Yes.”
He shut his SUV down, then moved in front of her. “Stay behind me, but keep up with me.” Inside, the professor flipped the light switch. The basement was unfinished. The stairwell was the only area dry-walled. He checked under the stairs, then they went up them, the doc flipping on lights as they went.
Once he’d cleared the main floor’s kitchen, dining room, living room, and powder room, he walked her back to the kitchen and ordered her to stay put while he checked out the upstairs. There were two bedrooms and two baths, all of them free of crazed WKBers.
He came back downstairs. The professor was standing exactly where he’d put her, still clutching her purse and laptop bag. He eased them from her hands and set them on the counter. Taking hold of her hands, he rubbed the tension from them.
“Talk to me. What’s in your laptop that the WKB wants?”
“Nothing.”
If he hadn’t been holding her hands, he wouldn’t have felt the flash of tension that passed through her.
“Maybe they just thought I was an easy target.”
“Uh-huh. Why didn’t you want the cops to know the bikers were WKBers?”