Chapter 19

Chapter 19:
Suddenly, the roar of a powerful engine broke the silence of the dark night.
The next thing Candice knew, a large black motorcycle pulled up beside her.
The mysterious rider removed his helmet and struck one of the hooligans in the head with it. The impact was tremendous, leaving the hooligan’s face bruised and bloodied.
Then, the rider reached out and pulled the stunned Candice to his side.
“What are you still standing there for?” he said impatiently. “Get on the motorcycle!”
Startled, Candice immediately climbed onto the motorcycle. The rider then sped away, leaving the angry hooligans far behind.
They were on the freeway in no time.
At first, Candice refused to hold onto the rider. She knew he was a neat freak and didn’t like others touching him.
But he was driving so fast that she had to hold onto something or risk falling off. Throwing caution to the wind, she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist.
It was the middle of summer, but the night breeze was particularly chilly. In that moment, Candice felt comfortable.
After driving far enough, the rider pulled over on a bridge above the river.
Candice hurriedly got off the motorcycle. She had never ridden a large motorcycle before. Her legs felt like jelly, and she nearly lost her balance.
The rider parked the motorcycle, got off, and steadied her with one arm.
Embarrassed, she blinked and muttered, “Thank you, Mr. Lopez.”
Milton said nothing.
He leaned against his motorcycle and crossed one leg over the other, making him appear taller than he really was.
The dark night stretched endlessly behind him, dotted here and there by the colorful city lights in the distance. On the bridge, beneath the dim yellow glow of the street lamps, Candice could see his handsome face.
He pulled a menthol cigarette from his pocket and lit it. Taking a few long drags, he exhaled huge clouds of smoke.
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His posture was casual yet elegant. Shrouded in cigarette smoke, he looked like a charming yet dangerous stranger.
When Milton was younger, he loved riding motorcycles. It had been a long time since his last ride. He had done so tonight simply to ease his irritability. He didn’t expect to run into Candice.
It seemed the streets of Ploville had become dodgier than before.
A few days ago, during an inspection in a residential area set to be demolished, he had seen several thugs bullying a woman wearing a black hood. Today, passing through the southern part of the city, he encountered a similar situation.
Turning his head and knitting his brows, he looked Candice up and down.
Seeing the tear in her shirt, he frowned.
He took off his coat—a lightweight, windproof jacket—and casually threw it over her shoulders.
“I don’t want this coat anymore. Just throw it away after you use it. You don’t need to give it back.”
Then, he flicked his cigarette to the ground and put it out with the tip of his shoe. “Okay.”
Candice was stunned. He didn’t want the coat anymore? Was it because she had held onto him during the ride?
She was grateful that he showed up and saved her, but seeing that arrogant look on his face again, she found herself at a loss for kind, thankful words.
Without looking at her again, Milton got back on his motorcycle, put on his helmet, gunned the engine, and rode away.
Candice was left alone on the dimly lit bridge.
She couldn’t help but scoff. So that was his plan all along? Save her and then abandon her in the middle of nowhere? He couldn’t even offer her a ride home? Why didn’t he ask where she was going? Why did he just ditch her?
What an incredibly insensitive mysophobe!
For some reason, she suddenly remembered the man who had saved her a few days ago. He helped her but then left her there—doing exactly what Milton had just done. Unfortunately, she didn’t know who that man was.
Tonight, Madilyn had failed again, but this time she would learn her lesson and leave no evidence behind. The investigation must lead nowhere.
Candice’s eyes turned cold.
Suddenly, her phone rang.
She glanced at the screen and saw Greyson’s name.
In the past, he had seldom called her. When he did, he sounded annoyed and disgusted upon hearing her voice. Now, after their divorce, he was calling her?
She rejected the call.
She hailed a cab to the Starlight Pub.
For more than twenty years, she had never indulged herself.
Bettina always said she was being silly.
Well, her silly days would come to an end tonight. She was going to have a good time.
.
.
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