Dead Run Read Free Page B

focus, right? Like a laser.” He points at his eyes. “Thinking. Planning. You always get the delivery to the right place. On time. The first time.”
    â€œAll right,” I say. “I get it.”
    He stares me in the eyes until I break away and start down the metal stairs. I’m moving fast and nearly run into the cute punk girl and the baseball-cap guy, waiting at the bottom.
    â€œYou’re Sam? The fresh meat? I’m Robin.” She’s even better-looking up close. I’m still feeling rattled from Viktor, but I try to stay cool as she starts giving me instructions.
    â€œOkay, Hub, give him his gear.”
    Baseball-cap guy hands me a messenger bag with the Champion Courier logo on it. There’s something inside, so I lift the flap and feel around. It’s a beaten-up cell phone with the number 13 written in marker on the back. There’s also a pad of forms, packed with dense text. Robin sees me staring at the pieces of paper, trying to figure them out.
    â€œThis is all your stuff now. You’ll get your orders from Hub.” She tilts her head toward the guy with the green ballcap. “He’ll text you with an address and the code P-U for pickup, or D-O for drop off. When you do a pickup, you get whoever’s there to sign the blue sheet. When you drop, you get them to sign the red. You never, ever leave without a signature.”
    â€œSo what happens if I don’t get a signature?”
    â€œThat’s what I’m saying. You never let it happen. Unless there’s nobody home for the D-O—then it’s a dead run.” She shrugs. “Not your fault, but you’ll still probably catch shit from the client for it. You got all that?”
    â€œEasy,” I say. Hub raises his eyebrows—pretty obvious he doesn’t believe me. Robin reaches over and ruffles my hair, like I’m a little kid.
    â€œAww, check out the new guy, Hub. All balls, no brains. Adorable. C’mon. Let’s go.”
    Riding with Robin is like nothing I’ve done before. I’m used to acting like cars and trucks are things to be avoided. Hazards. But Robin gets up close, sliding through spaces between cars with barely an inch to spare. It’s like the street is a river and she’s swimming with the current, smooth and powerful. She doesn’t have any fear. She doesn’t ever stop.
    Me, it’s more like I’m drowning. I’m jerking the handlebars around, slamming on my brakes, stuttering through the street. And barely keeping Robin in sight.
    Then Robin breaks hard right, swerving across two lanes to dive into an underground parking lot entrance. I try to follow and hear a horn blast and squeal of brakes behind me.
    Oh crap.
    I don’t need to look over my shoulder to know that I’m about to become part of a dump truck’s grille. I swerve hard, desperate. I can feel the air as the truck slices by me, barely missing my rear tire. I finally skid to a stop next to Robin in the parking lot. Sweat prickles all over my body. That was close.
    â€œWow,” she says. Underneath her black helmet, her eyes are wide.
    â€œWhat?” I grunt, panting.
    â€œNever saw fresh meat nearly become hamburger on day one. Usually takes a little longer.”
    Not cool. I am not impressing her. I can’t think of anything smart to say. Can’t even catch my breath.
    â€œListen, I’ve got these extra wheels in my bag if you want them,” she says.
    â€œWheels?” I say, still wheezing.
    â€œTraining wheels, little cute ones.” She’s smiling now, enjoying the teasing. Seeing if I’ll lose it.
    â€œScrew you, Robin.” Tough words, but I’m trying to keep my smile down. Maybe it is a little funny, in a sick near-death kind of way. And I figure that if I want to make it with her, I’d better act like I can handle this. Handle her. Still, my arms are shaking as we get going again. We spin right