Demola drove down the sloppy road with his Power Bike, the hot air surrounding him. The night was quiet. The moon full. The atmosphere peaceful. A late-night bareback ride usually calmed him.

But not tonight.

A river of acid poured through his gut. His chest fell like several strands of barbed wire were cutting it in half. And no matter how fast he chased over the terrain, he couldn't get the picture of Tomilola out of his head.

When she'd stepped out of the big house tonight with the other girls, he'd just about had a heart attack. What the hell had she been thinking, putting on something that made...