THE BAD BOY BARGAIN

Chapter 14: Last Play

The red and blue lights pulsed in the motorcycle’s side mirror, sirens wailing as Jake gunned the engine down the highway. My arms tightened around his waist, helmet slipping as the wind roared past, cold and relentless. “Jake!” I yelled over the noise, panic clawing my throat. “They’re after us!”

“I see ‘em!” he shouted back, voice tight but steady. “Hold on!” He swerved, cutting onto a side road, the bike tilting so low my knee nearly grazed asphalt. The sirens faded, then surged—closer, louder. My heart slammed, every bump jolting through me, but I clung to him, trusting him to outrun this.

He took a sharp turn into an alley, tires screeching, and slowed, weaving through trash cans and shadows. The lights dimmed behind us, blocked by buildings, and he pulled into a narrow lot behind the school, killing the engine. Silence hit, heavy and sudden, just our ragged breaths and the distant wail fading out.

“Lost ‘em,” he panted, yanking off his helmet. His hair was a mess, eyes wild but sharp. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I gasped, sliding off, legs shaky. “Why were they—”

“Dunno,” he cut in, standing fast. “Kyle, maybe. Or Lexi called something in. Doesn’t matter—we’re here.” He nodded at the gym’s back door, cracked open, light spilling out. “Test’s in ten. I gotta go.”

I grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Jake, if they find you—”

“They won’t,” he said, firm, pulling me close. His hands cupped my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks, and his eyes locked on mine—fierce, desperate. “I’m passing this. For me, for you, for the team. Trust me?”

I nodded, swallowing hard. “Always.”

He kissed me—quick, hard, a spark in the dark—then bolted for the door, jacket flapping. I followed, slipping inside after him, the gym’s stale air hitting me as we ran past lockers to the classroom wing. Miss Carter’s room glowed at the end of the hall, voices murmuring—test time, 8 PM sharp.

Jake burst in, me trailing, and heads turned—Tyler, a few teammates, Miss Carter at her desk, frowning. “Ryder,” she said, sharp. “Cutting it close. Sit.”

He nodded, breathless, dropping into a desk. I hovered by the door, catching Tyler’s eye—he mouthed “What the hell?”—and I shrugged, sinking against the wall. Miss Carter handed out papers, her voice a drone about rules, but my focus was Jake—head down, pencil moving, fighting for his shot.

The clock ticked—slow, brutal. I texted Ellie—“Need a lawyer fast. Kyle’s arrested. Help?”—and she fired back: “On it. Dad knows a guy. You okay?” I typed “Yeah. Later.” and watched Jake, his jaw tight, scribbling answers we’d drilled—Gatsby’s green light, Daisy’s lies. He paused once, glancing at me, and I gave a small nod. He smiled—faint, real—and kept going.

Forty minutes later, he dropped his pencil, leaning back as Miss Carter collected papers. She skimmed his, eyebrows lifting, then nodded. “Not bad, Ryder. Results tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” he said, standing, and shot me a look—We did it. I grinned, relief flooding me, but it crashed when Coach stormed in, face red, Tyler trailing behind.

“Ryder!” Coach barked, voice echoing. “Outside. Now.”

Jake tensed, but followed, me right behind. In the hall, Coach spun on him, arms crossed. “Cops called. Your brother’s locked up—vandalism, drunk and disorderly. They’re looking for you.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Jake said, steady but low. “I was here, taking the test.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Coach snapped. “Guilt by association. Team’s got heat—parents, rumors. You’re benched ‘til it’s cleared.”

“No,” I cut in, stepping up. “He’s clean—test’s done, Lexi planted that betting slip. Check the cameras!”

Coach glared, but Tyler nodded. “She’s right. I saw Lexi near the gym last week—sneaky. Jake’s been straight.”

Jake shot Tyler a grateful look, then faced Coach. “I passed, didn’t I? Give me a shot—season’s not over.”

Coach rubbed his face, grumbling. “Cameras are down—maintenance. No proof. But…” He sighed, long and tired. “Test counts. If Carter says you’re good, you’re back tomorrow. One slip, you’re out.”

“Deal,” Jake said, fast, a spark lighting his eyes. Coach grunted, waved us off, and left, Tyler clapping Jake’s shoulder before peeling away.

We stood there, alone in the hall, the weight lifting but not gone. “You did it,” I said, grinning, nudging him.

“We did,” he corrected, pulling me in. His arms wrapped tight, chin resting on my head, and I hugged back, breathing him in—leather, mint, him. “Thanks, Mia. For everything.”

“Anytime,” I said, pulling back to look at him. His smile was soft, unguarded, and my chest warmed—until footsteps echoed, heavy and fast.

We turned, and Buzz Cut—the cop from Kyle’s arrest—strode up, radio crackling. “Jake Ryder?” he said, voice flat. “Need you downtown. Your brother’s talking—says you’re tied to something bigger.”

“What?” Jake stepped back, hands up. “I didn’t—”

“Now,” Buzz Cut cut in, grabbing his arm. I lunged, panic spiking.

“Wait!” I yelled, but the cop glared, pulling Jake toward the exit, his face twisting as he looked back at me.

“Mia—” he started, but the door slammed, cutting him off.