Page 51 of Mile High With the Bikers
“No, I’m glad that you guys care, but this is my mess, too. I can’t pretend that I didn’t know the potential issues with Hermes, but just like Dad, I thought it was more fun to figure out how to do it than to question our motivations. He took it in a direction that I didn’t anticipate, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t my responsibility to start making this right again. I can’t hide here because you have a bad feeling.” I stretch up onto my toes and press a kiss to his jaw, letting my fingers play over his shirt and tease his nipple rings from the outside. “Is it okay if I come back to visit when this is over?”
He sighs and runs his hands down the sides of my arms. “Yes. Or we’ll track you down and drag you back anyway.”
I grin. “You better.”
Outside, Mason is still arguing with Bull and Diesel.
“She's a fucking adult.” Bull's voice has dropped to a dark deadliness. “Mr. Whittaker can think any way he wants, but she makes this call. And anyone who tries to get in the way of that is gonna have to come through us.”
Mason snorts. “She already made that decision. As far as I can tell, it's you idiots who’re telling her no. Where's her freedom now, then? Or does it just apply to others?”
“Everyone, stop it! He's right, I said I'd go. I know you guys are looking out for me, but like you said, I'm an adult.” I don't like snapping at them, and the way they all narrow their eyes, they don't like it either.
Bull nods. “Alright, but we’re coming with you.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake! I'm not bringing a whole team of bikers back to Mr. Whittaker. What if you're involved in this after all? It was real convenient that you happened to be on the plane when the fighting started, just to make it out in the nick of time with Rory and leave us behind.” He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “We have no way of knowing for sure, so until then, she's safer with us.”
“One of us, then.” Shrapnel levels the deadly glare of someone who's seen worse shit than Mason on the bottom of his shoes. “If you don't have the power to keep tabs on just one of us, then Rory shouldn't be there. And if shit hits the fan, another person on her side will only keep her safer. Your job is Whittaker. Ours is Rory. No conflict of interest.” He turns to me. “How does that sound? Your decision.”
“If it means actually getting out of here? Then yes, let’s go. The sooner we leave the sooner we can start making progress.” Having one of them with me? I’m all for it. I just don’t want Mason to think I’m being too enthusiastic. “Come on, Mason. Even if Dad doesn't trust them, I do.”
Shrapnel blows Mason a kiss.
Mason draws a slow breath through his nose, probably reciting that, “Give me the strength…” prayer, but after he lets the breath back out, he nods. “Fine. As long as we can get ourselves the hell out of here ASAP. Mr. Whittaker is waiting. And no guns. No one's bringing firearms into the lockdown.”
Shrapnel scowls skeptically at him, but pulls his pistol out of his belt and hands it to Diesel. “Watch this for me.”
“You got it.”
Then all of them follow us out to the car. It’s a boxy black SUV with tinted windows, clearly not something you pick up straight off the dealer room floor. “Whose car is this? I don’t recognize it.”
“Mr. Whittaker special ordered it after the first attack. It’s on loan from a military supplier,” Mason explains.
“Call if anything goes south. We'll be waiting.” Bull's sharp eyes follow us until we're both inside. Then Mason shuts the door and goes around to the front passenger seat, like he usually does.
“I'm still not sure about this,” Shrapnel murmurs close to my ear. Now that it's just the two of us in the back, and the car is pulling out, I can't shake the feeling of being trapped.
“I'm not either.”
26
BULL
“Blue two, corner pocket,”I call, lining up to hit the cue ball. For a second I think I went wide, but it slides past Diesel's striped ball, only barely not kissing it, then slams into my ball behind it, knocking it right in. “Fuck yeah!” Feels good when a shot goes exactly as planned.
“Nice.” Diesel evaluates the table while I line up my next shot. “But you’re fucked now.”
My options are shit, either risking dropping the cue ball in the corner, or trying to squeeze my ball past the eight without knocking that in prematurely. Playing a safety always feels like giving up, but I probably should have. I risk the cue ball, and there it goes, slamming in like I didn't try to put spin on it at all.
“Think we did the right thing?” Diesel chalks up the tip of his cue stick.
“We did the thing we could do. What do you wanna do, chain her up in her room?”
He places the cue ball after the fault. “With or without clothes?”
“Without, obviously. But be fucking serious for a second. We’ve known her for what? A week? And after all that shit about being an adult who makes her own decisions, what else can we do? If you have proof of something, let me know, but she’s right, we can’t lock her up just because we don’t want to let her go.” I keep glancing at my phone on the table. “Shrapnel is with her. It’ll be fine.”
Fuck this stupid game. Fuck waiting.
