Page 53 of Mile High With the Bikers
“Yeah, that’s him,” I tell Tim. “We can probably get camera footage of the car but it might take a hot minute. One of our guys is with her.”
“Shit. That’s better than nothing. Keep your phone on you, I’ll see what I can drum up on this side. It’s possible that we’re missing something here, because Mason’s been with Whittaker even longer than I have. It would be very out of character for him to move against his own boss.” Tim hangs up.
“We’re not going to sit around and wait for him, right?” Diesel asks.
“Fuck no. We need to tell Eagle-eye. I don’t give a shit about Whittaker or his project, but Rory and Shrapnel are with that fucker.”
The phone creaks when I squeeze it, and I pull my arm back like I want to spike it into the wall, but I force myself to relax my fingers and start counting backwards in my head. Smash later, Rory first.
“Focus. They need her,” Diesel says. “Our sexy little nerd is important, remember that. They aren’t going to hurt her.”
I nod. “You’re right, but what about Shrapnel?”
Diesel pats Shrapnel’s gun in his belt. “He’s resourceful. He’ll figure out how to keep them both safe, and then we make sure this gets back to him, right?”
“Damn straight.”
27
SHRAPNEL
Rory's legjitters nervously as she looks out the window. “Mason? Where are we going? This isn't the way to the office.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry, but I wasn't entirely honest. No one's supposed to know the new location, not even your guys back there.” He doesn't even glance our way which feels wrong for someone who apparently knows Rory quite well. Like he’s avoiding letting her see his face. “Mary Haney has graciously volunteered a safe house and your father is waiting for us there. We felt it was best to go somewhere unassociated with the business. It's not far.”
There's thick plexiglass between him and us. Makes me feel like we're riding in a fucking cage, but the car doesn’t feel military grade in spite of what Mason said. More like something that was upgraded after purchase. Not bad, but commercial quality.
On a lark, I grab the door handle and try to open it, even though we're going full speed down the highway. Nothing. Doesn’t mean anything. It could be a safety feature, but I don’t love that we’re locked in. I tap Rory’s leg and then gesture at the door handle.
She tests it quietly and nods, before sliding into the middle seat and putting her head on my shoulder. “Mary is competition. She was on the plane,” she whispers, pretending to sleep. “Going to her for help would be a last resort. I don’t like this.”
I look out the window as the car leaves the highway. I wish I had my gun. It’s obvious why Mason wouldn't let me bring it, but I miss the cozy weight of it in my hand. Luckily, Mason never mentioned knives. “Stay calm and wait for an opportunity,” I whisper back. “Trust me.”
“Mmmhmm,” she hums. Her toe keeps tapping, but at least she’s stilled her leg. She slides her phone out of her bag, but there’s no signal. Are we being blocked?
Mason and the driver are discussing something, quietly enough that it doesn't carry through the barrier. I scan the plexiglass, examining the seal around the edge. Whoever installed it attached it to the wall below with rather shitty looking bolts. Maybe something I can use to my advantage?
We can sit here and await our fate, or do something. Two options, the way I see it: breaking through the doors, or breaking through the divider. Not fancying throwing myself out of this thing at speed, and while I at least have some leather on, Rory would get fucking shredded. And then they could just stop, come back and collect our probably mangled bodies afterwards.
Divider it is.
I pretend to stretch, sliding my knife out of my hidden boot holster. It’s served me well through every deployment I’ve seen, and it’s gonna help me now.
Keeping my attention out the window, I dig the tip of the blade into the corner closest to the door. They shouldn’t be able tosee me tampering there. Slowly and methodically, I slice away at the edge by feel until there’s enough to get my fingers under. Something sharp digs into my finger until I change my grip, but there’s a hint of a flex in the plastic when I tug it. Fuck, I wish I had Bull's bulk to help, but I'm here and he’s not, so I guess it's up to me.
Rory sits up and yawns, giving me room to move.
I signal a countdown, flashing three fingers twice, then two fingers twice, then one finger twice before…
I yank the divider hard, putting every ounce of strength I’ve got into it. There’s no way to be subtle about this, and when it resists, I’m sure we’re fucked. But my hunch about the work quality comes through. There’s a sound like shearing metal, and the divider starts to come loose. You get what you pay for.
“What the fuck are you doing back there?”
“Need some fresh air, motherfucker!” Ignoring a sharp edge digging into my palm, I throw my weight backwards, yanking the divider the rest of the way. Bits of cheap metal and plastic shoot into the air as they rip loose, and there’s a gap big enough to get through if nobody’s trying to kill me.
Unfortunately, somebody’s trying to kill me.
Mason unbuckles his belt and twists, pulling a piece that looks like it could so some serious damage from an underarm holster.
