Page 30 of Mile High With the Bikers
“Eager to get back to your penthouse?” Diesel asks. He’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach his blue eyes.
“I—I don’t have one. No, really,” I insist when they look at me skeptically. “I live in a suite attached to my father’s apartment.”
Bull reaches out and pats my knee. “Poor baby.”
I stick out my tongue.
He narrows his eyes. “Don’t show it if you don’t want to use it.”
I stick it out again and blow a raspberry.
“You little brat!” Bull grabs me and throws me over his lap while the others watch, laughing. He pulls up the bottom of Shrapnel’s shirt and swats my butt. For a second, everyone is quiet and the mood starts to shift.
Diesel’s phone chirps. He groans. “It’s King. No time for fun. Whittaker is waiting for us to call.”
“Oh.” I climb off Bull’s lap and pull the shirt back in place. I’m not ready for it to happen this fast.
Shrapnel leaves to check the dryer.
“You’re a grown woman, you know. If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to.” Diesel leans back on the couch, watching me like his eyes can give my shirt another lift.
“It’s not that easy.”
“Why not? Does he hurt you?” Diesel’s voice darkens, like he doesn’t give a shit how important my father is.
Bulls nods. “Say the word and we’ll tell him to fuck off. Prez would blow his fucking stack, but he’d back us.”
I don't doubt for a moment that they’re speaking the truth, but this is bigger than my feelings. “No, please. It’s not like that. I’m not his prisoner or anything. He’s just a very important person, and some of our projects are very time sensitive. He needs me back at work.”
“You’re his daughter. Do you really think he’s worried about you missing work more than if you’re safe?” Diesel asks.
“Honestly? Yeah.” I shrug. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”
Bull doesn’t look convinced. “What about your mom?”
“My mother? What do you mean?”
“Don’t you think she’s worried about you?”
I can tell they’re expecting something from me, but I don’t know what. The looks on their faces remind me of my boarding school teachers when I told them nobody was coming for whatever event the school was having and I don’t like it. “She probably hasn’t heard anything yet.” The instant Shrapnel comes in with my slightly damp clothes, I run for the bathroom to change. Let them talk about my sad little privileged life, but I don’t need to sit around and hear their pity.
A couple of minutes later, we walk into the common room, the mood there quiet, but relaxed. I spot Cherry and Opal playing pool with a couple of guys. They look up and I send them a little wave.
The stairs up to Eagle-eye's office feel heavier this time. If Dad’s calmed down enough to see reason, it probably means he’s ready to make the trade. He's stubborn, but he’s too smart to spend too long on the wrong conclusion. I think dipping his toes into the dark side is making him paranoid. A year ago he would never have had people snatched off the street. I don’t even know who he called to make that happen, but I suspect some of his other billionaire cronies are whispering in his ear about missed opportunities.
It might not’ve been The Screaming Eagles who were behind the attack, but someone started it, and they were on the plane with us.
Eagle-eye looks up as we come in. “Took you fucking long enough.”
“Can't rush a lady.” Shrapnel pulls out a chair for me, then drops into the one next to it. Bull takes position by the door, leaning his back against the wall, while Diesel sits down on the edge of Eagle-eye's massive desk.
With an annoyed grunt, Eagle-eye pops open his laptop and gets up to come around the desk so we can all see. He starts a call and a moment later, Dad appears, looking unhappy. “We agreed on four.”
“Shit came up. Are you ready to talk sense?” Eagle-eye folds his thick arms over his barrel chest.
Dad leans back in his chair. I can tell from the background that he’s in his home office. “I’ve reviewed the footage we were able to retrieve, and spoken to Luca Giordano. I’m not happy with your men removing my daughter from the scene, but I’m willing to concede that they were likely unaware of her identity at the time.”
“I didn’t know where the danger was and I thought it was best to get away first and contact you later. Obviously, I didn’t think it was smart to advertise that I’m your daughter,” I explain, fudging the truth in a way that Dad will appreciate.
