We took a corner at a speed that had Leo chuckling under his breath. I don’t think he’d had this much fun in years. A bit of Loki wasn’t necessarily a bad thing for Leo. After yet another corner, squeal of brakes, and blare of horn, Zeke was able to move his lips. He sounded as if he were shot up with novocaine, but he was understandable. “Being . . . good . . . sucks.”
“No argument with you there.” I squeezed his hand and then let it rest on the seat beside him before patting his cheek. “But other than getting Tasered, it wasn’t bad. You helped rob a museum. Now how many people can say that? You’re practically a professional jewel thief.”
“I don’t . . . wear jewelry.” He moved slowly and sat up straighter. If they didn’t kill you, Tasers were great for recovery time. “And fragging demons is better.”
“There’s nothing wrong with killing demons, true,” I admitted, “but you have to widen your horizons. There’s more to life than demons.”
“Things like this?” he asked dubiously, trying for a look behind us as the wail of a siren erupted. The police car had turned left off a cross street and slid right onto our bumper. The cops had either gotten notice of the museum incident over their radio and tracked us down in a matter of minutes—lucky but unlikely—or they had been waiting on that street with a looming ticket quota and had spotted Leo’s creative driving. It was certainly creative enough to be instantly noticed by anyone with a single law enforcement gene.
“Things exactly like this.” I faced forward again and buckled up. I bounced slightly in the seat in anticipation as well. I had no choice. It was a car chase. There had been decades of American cinema devoted to the genre, and here was an opportunity to experience it. You had to live every moment as if death rode your bumper instead of the police. It made every moment irreplaceable—every one a perfect, brilliant jewel strung along the glittering gold chain of your life. “You can outrun them, can’t you, Leo? You being so much more technically adept than me.”
“That’s a given. The question is, do you want the escape casualty free as that may take a few minutes more.” Leo jerked the steering wheel and we took another corner. This time he didn’t stick to the street. He took out a newspaper box, clipping it with the front bumper.
“Without casualties would be nice, unless it’s someone mugging an old lady. Then you’re a free agent. Do what you have to do.” I braced my hands on the dashboard. “We should’ve switched. I love driving fast.”
“Right. Then the only casualties would be us.” Leo drove the car between two rows of pumps at a gas station. I leaned out the window to flip off the cops. I had no problem with them personally, but I didn’t mind giving Leo more of a challenge. “Oh yes, that’s helpful,” he said. “Maybe you could moon them too. That’s a thought. That might actually scare them off.”
“Ass.” I punched him hard enough in his ribs to have him grunting as the car left the station, bounced over the curb, and hit yet another cross street. This part of LA was full of them. It made car chases more interesting. But despite that and despite riding the sidewalk and nearly taking out a gas pump, Leo’s version of a shortcut, the cops stuck stubbornly to us.
“That’s what I said. If you show them your ass . . .” I punched him again, turning the words into a pained hiss.
I pushed at his shoulder and put a hand on the wheel. “That’s it. You had your chance. Switch places with me.”
“My chance consisted of forty-five seconds? Hell, no.” This time he drove over the concrete curb in front of a liquor store and we were on yet another street, this time going the wrong way.
“I find it disturbing that if we die in a fiery collision, Cronus will still make us his bitches,” Griffin said, ducking as Leo dodged oncoming headlights.