Minnie sighed. She was sick to death of this conversation. She’d heard variations of it her whole life. “Daddy, listen carefully. I’m not going anywhere. It was a waste of time sending Crash to get me.”
Her father cleared his throat. “Minnie, Crash won’t be coming to get you.”
“What?” Minnie said. “But he was on a flight to New York.”
“TDR grabbed Crash at the airport,” Daddy said.
“Omigod, they’ve got Crash,” Minnie said to Big Mike. Somehow, she had ended up with her hand on his chest, leaning against him. Big Mike took her phone. She let him. He turned the speaker phone on, and spoke, “This is Michael Williams.”
“Who the hell are you? Put Minnie back on the phone,” her father roared.
“Crash asked me to look after Minnie until he gets here. What happened to him?” Big Mike wrapped his right arm around her.
“Best I can figure is that TDR was waiting for him at the airport,” her father said.
“You’re sure they have Crash?” Big Mike said. “That’s a big airport. How would they know which flight he-“
“I’m sure. They called me and put him on the phone. He wouldn’t speak to me but I heard him telling them to go fuck themselves.”
Crash was lethal. Minnie knew he wouldn’t have gone quietly. She tried to think this through. Crash was leverage for TDR. They would negotiate for his return. She took her phone from Big Mike. He let her.
She cleared her throat. “What does TDR want, Daddy?”
Her father was silent.
“Daddy?” Dread filled her. “Daddy, you’re going to negotiate for Crash’s release. Aren’t you?”
She looked up at Big Mike. He would have looked blank to anyone else but she easily read the pity in his face.
“Minnie, I need you to come home,” Daddy said.
“You would have negotiated with them for me.” Her voice bounced around the empty car lot, off low ceilings and painted-white pipes, louder than she intended.
“Crash is a lieutenant.”
“He’s your son.” My brother.
“The club is more important than a single member,” Big Mike said softly. She didn’t assume he was defending her father; he was trying to explain her father to her. As if she hadn’t been raised with this bullshit her whole life.
“What would Momma expect you to do?” she said. They never spoke about her mother. She had died so long ago, she was a memory of a memory. But Minnie remembered a warm, cursing, laughing, yelling woman. “Who would Momma expect you to choose, Daddy?” Choose Crash.
“He wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for you, girl. Now get home.” Her father’s words were sharp spikes.
There was enough truth in his accusation, for it to rock her. But this horrible mess wasn’t all her fault, just most of it. If she’d obeyed her father and her brother, Crash wouldn’t be in TDR’s hands.
Big Mike leaned forward and spoke into her phone. His tone was clipped, “She’s not going anywhere.”
“Minnie, I need you to come home-”
Minnie cut the call. She tucked her phone back into her clutch bag. Her actions were automatic. “My mother died when I was young. I know now that when someone you love dies, people react differently. Some people push other people away. Some people hold the ones they love just that little bit tighter. After Momma passed, Daddy held on to us tightly. Me and Crash. Somewhere, Daddy let Crash go, but not me. He’s still trying to hold me tight.” Her thoughts were a game of pinball.
Big Mike held his arms open. She went into them and let him fold those strong arms around her. She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Michael, they’ll kill my brother. As soon as they understand that my father will never negotiate for his life, they’ll kill Crash.”
“We’ve got time to find him,” he said. “They’ll assume your father is bluffing.”
We. “How long have we got?”
“Long enough,” he said.
She didn’t believe him.
“We’ll find him,” Big Mike repeated.
She tightened her arms around him.
They were a team.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Big Mike took Minnie back to his hotel room. He kept a wary eye out for stray photographers. Minnie was too fragile to deal with photographers now. Luckily for their continued good health, no photographers appeared.
In his hotel room, Big Mike shut the drapes on the city. When he turned, Minnie was perched in the middle of his bed, her bare feet tucked under her. Her impractical shoes lay half under the bed. It was weird how normal it felt to have her sitting on his bed, as if they were a regular couple who had just come back from dinner together. She fit him.
Minnie spoke, “We need to make a plan-”
“I have one,” he said. “Vitruvius has resources we’ll never have.” He punched Rocco’s number into his phone, resisting the urge to turn his back on Minnie. He’d far rather take the call out in the corridor, away from her. There were things he wouldn’t be able to say to Rocco in front of Minnie.
When Rocco picked up the call, Big Mike could hear a movie playing the background. A TV? The sound receded. Rocco had moved somewhere more private. It took moments to fill him in.
“What do you need?” Rocco said, getting straight to the point. His voice seemed loud on the other side of the line. Big Mike quickly turned down the volume of his phone so Minnie couldn’t overhear Rocco’s part of the discussion.
“Crash has unique… skills,” Big Mike said carefully, mindful that Minnie was only feet away. He couldn’t call Crash a stone-cold killer in front of his sister. “Check for a reported altercation at or near the airport. He wouldn’t be easy to take. Check security cameras, traffic cameras, retail cameras and ATM cameras on all exit routes from the airport. We need a license plate, car make and the direction they took. TDR used a van when they tried to abduct Minnie. They’d probably do the same again.”
“Illegal data and camera hacks take longer. Not all of these cameras will be networked, anyway — we’ll send men out on foot for those. A lot of the businesses along possible exit routes will be closed until tomorrow morning. How long do you think we’ve got?”
“Difficult to say,” Big Mike prevaricated. Minnie was watching him, her hands fiddling with her golden hair, winding it round and round her fingers.
“His sister is with you? She can hear you?”
“Yeah.”
“Hours?” Rocco said.
“Maybe. Check surrounding hospitals too, for injuries from a brawl.” Crash would break some bones, at a minimum. It didn’t do much good to threaten Crash Coolidge with a gun unless you were prepared to shoot him. He was fearless. They would have had to swarm him to take him down.
“Do you have a cellphone number for him? We can try and geolocate it,” Rocco said. If Crash’s cellphone was on, they would be able to narrow its current location to a few city blocks.
Big Mike had been about to ask for that exact thing. He and Rocco were perfectly in sync. He rattled off the number.
They didn’t waste time on chitchat. Seconds later, Rocco was gone.
“We should go to The Oasis. We might spot Crash,” Minnie said. “There will be other known TDR hangouts. I can call some of Daddy’s lieutenants and find-“
“There are eight million people in this city, Minnie. We’re not going to stumble over your brother by accident,” Big Mike said, unbuttoning his collar and cuffs. He rolled his shirtsleeves up his forearms. “Get some rest. It’ll probably be the early hours of the morning before we find him.”
If we find him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Daddy, you’re missing the best bit,” Jason yelled from the sitting-room.
“I’ll be right out, son,” Rocco said, but he didn’t make a move to join his son in the adjacent room. He was standing in his study, in near darkness. He had come in here to take Big Mike’s call in private. Only the sparkle of the city, visible through the penthouse�
��s floor-to-ceiling windows, lit the room.
“The itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spout. Down came the Goblin and took the spider out.” He could hear Jason speaking the words along with his favorite movie anti-hero, The Green Goblin.
Rocco had lost count of how many times he had watched that Spiderman movie with his son. So many times that he knew the words as well as Jason. But he always let his son say them.
Rocco turned his phone over and over in his hands. Why delay the decision? He always did what he had to do.
He called Jones.
“TDR snatched Crash,” Rocco said in response to Jones’ curt greeting.
“Good. I was worried that the TDR moron I spoke to was going to need a personal invitation and a map to the airport,” Jones said. “He was slow on the uptake.”
“I trust that call won’t ever be traced back to you?”
Jones didn’t dignify that with a reply.
Rocco smiled. “Big Mike wants us to use Crash’s phone to geolocate him.” Rocco looked out at the city he loved. If he were a fanciful man, he’d say the city was like a jeweled torrent pouring out from the base of his tower. But he wasn’t a fanciful man. “Crash is a wild card. I want Big Mike working with us, but I don’t want Big Mike connected to Crash Coolidge, via Minerva Coolidge. Jones, you’re not going to be able to geolocate Crash, but it’s going to look as if you tried hard. Understood?”
“Understood.” Jones’ voice was neutral.
The line went dead.
“With great power comes great responsibility,” Rocco quoted his favorite line from the Spiderman movie and went to join his son, following the smell of butter-drenched popcorn. He loved popcorn almost as much as Jason did.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Minnie sat in the middle of Big Mike’s bed, fiddling with her hair. It was a large room in a luxury hotel — Rocco must really want to hire Big Mike — but it still felt too small to contain her restlessness. Her own skin felt too small to contain her restlessness.
Boots had seemed to sense her mood and had abandoned her alone on the bed to curl up on the brown, brocade-trimmed couch. The hotel concierge had sent up a litter-box and some food for Boots at Big Mike’s request, earlier.
The bed dipped as Big Mike sat on the edge of it. He toed his shoes and socks off, and stretched out beside her. His shirt collar was loose, his shirtsleeves rolled up on muscular forearms. He picked up the TV remote control from the bedside table. “Now we wait,” he said. “You might as well sleep, Minnie. I’ll be heading out with Rocco’s team to retrieve Crash as soon as we locate him.”
And there it was. Her place in this rescue operation. Nowhere.
Big Mike had made a call, had discarded all of her suggestions and had told her to lie down and nap, like a good girl. He would take care of everything.
“Arf,” she said, just under her breath.
“What?” he said.
“My trained poodle imitation,” she explained.
That right eyebrow of his moved a tiny fraction upward, in query.
Minnie raised herself on her knees on the quilted, brown comforter.
“You know what I hate about outlaw bikers and ex-outlaw-bikers?”
“It might be quicker to tell me what you like,” he said, his face outwardly impassive but he set the TV remote control back down on the bedside table.
She had wanted to be like them her whole life, like her father and her brother. To be so sure of everything. To be able to fix anything. To never be afraid. Big Mike and his kind were always so sure of themselves. But she also hated that black-and-white sureness.
“What do I like?” she tilted her head and looked at him stretched out on the bed, within easy touching distance. She studied his shaved head, blunt features, powerful neck, linebacker shoulders, the hint of an inky tattoo peeping out of his open shirt collar, washboard stomach, and thick thighs. Slowly. He was wearing a smart white shirt and formal, dark pants but there was no disguising his wildness. Big Mike started to push himself up on his elbows.
She stripped her dress off, pulling it up over her head in one smooth movement.
“Minnie?” His eyes were on her breasts, her waist, the tiny red Delilah’s Intrigue panties she wore, the long sweep of her thighs. He reached for her but she was quicker than him and scrambled astride him, planting her knees either side of his hips. She slapped her hands down on that broad chest, putting her full weight into the motion, slamming him flat back onto the bed. He grunted.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The tweedy fabric of his dark, formal pants abraded her bare legs and the bulge of his erection pressed up against the damp heat of her. Minnie leaned forward until the sharp points of his belt buckle bit into her belly. Her breasts brushed his shirt front. She kissed him, open-mouthed. He kissed her back. His hands smoothed up her bare thighs, his fingers sliding under her underwear to dig into the soft flesh of her bottom.
Minnie broke the kiss, and flattened her palms on his chest to push herself upright. Her heavy breasts tipped forward. Big Mike half-lifted himself up so his mouth could reach the puckered bud of a nipple. His hand plumped her breast for his mouth. Minnie held his head to her breast. Stubble on his scalp prickled against her palm.
She widened her thighs so she settled more snugly against his erection.
He groaned against her breast and then pulled his mouth from her. “Minnie, a non-biker would probably ask you if you’re sure about this,” he said hoarsely.
In reply, she undulated her hips against him watching his eyes half-shutter with pleasure. “You’re over-dressed for the occasion,” she said. She took the edges of his shirt and ripped them apart. Mother-of-pearl buttons popped and scattered across the bed, disappearing over the side onto the carpet.
“Be gentle with me,” he said huskily. His eyes were filled with laughter and warmth and understanding. He could overpower her instantly, but he wouldn’t.
His bare torso was a living artwork. Boots’ scratches were thin lines across that artwork, but they were healing rapidly. The inked picture was elaborate, spreading across his chest and tumbling down his right side to disappear into his pants. Wings, a blood red rose, three crosses, three dates in Roman lettering, symbols and nightmare creatures. And a one-percenter sign. She wanted to trace each line with her tongue and listen while he told her what each picture meant. This was a snapshot of the boy, carried into adulthood by the man. Slightly left of center, over his heart, lay the word ‘Mercy’. Strength tempered by mercy.
She let her hand rest there, against his heart, and looked into his face. At his blunt-hewn, plain face. His pupils were dilated, the irises eaten up by the dark pupils so that there was only a thin sherry-brown line rimming the black. Kind eyes. He was like the men she had grown up with but he wasn’t like the men she had grown up with. He was Big Mike.
She curved her back and bent to kiss the stark word etched in his skin. His hand fisted in her hair.
Minnie stretched to kiss his mouth. It was slow and tender. She slid her hand between them to unbuckle his belt. He didn’t take his eyes from hers. The sound of his zipper was loud in the room. Minnie pushed at his pants, impatient. Big Mike helped her, raising his hips. Then he was free, erect and smooth and hot in her hand.
“As advertised,” she whispered, smiling wickedly.
His hand reached between her legs to cup her through the flimsy lace. Her breath hitched, her eyelids fluttering shut. She heard her underwear tear and blinked her eyes open.
He tossed a scrap of red lace on the floor. Then his fingers were on the wet, private flesh between her thighs, stroking. Minnie bucked at his touch.
Locking her gaze with his, she positioned him and eased herself down on him. How could she ever have thought his dear face, impassive? Then she lifted herself up until he almost slipped free from her body and sat back down on him. Hard.
He filled her. Minnie moved on him and with him. She rose and fell over him, guided by his hands, her hips
snaking backwards and forwards. Her mind was a jumble, her senses full. Her skin heated. She wanted more, more heat, more movement. She gave as much as she took until the rising tension inside her, overwhelmed her. She tried to ease off him, but he held her in place until the tension that had built in her snapped and she cried out, quivering around him. His hips jerked as he spilled deep inside her.
“Minnie,” he said on an exhalation, his arms wrapping around her, pressing her close.
Minnie lay supine on Big Mike. The room was silent except for the sound of their harsh breathing. Minnie found the energy to turn her head and kiss the salty skin at the base of his neck. His arms tightened on her in response. She felt him twitch deep inside her. Her eyes shut and she started to float away-
Big Mike’s phone rang.
Chapter Thirty
Big Mike reached for the phone with his right hand, still cuddling her close with his other arm. Minnie felt a pang of loss as he slipped from inside her.
Big Mike checked his phone. “It’s Rocco,” he said.
Hope flared inside her. “Put him on speakerphone,” Minnie said, resisting his hold and clambering off him. She sat beside him, her knees folded to the side, her hip against him, her hand resting on his stomach.
Big Mike complied, sitting up and operating his phone with one hand. His ruined shirt slid off his shoulders. He shrugged his arms back into it. “Minnie’s on the call, too. Speak.”
“Bad news. We can’t geolocate Crash,” Rocco said. “We were able access his cellphone history. He left the city and then… nothing. They must have switched his phone off.”
Big Mike spoke, “What about the men he was with? You can work out who was traveling with him based on their cellphone signals-“
“Same problem. My guess is that they all wised up at the same time and made sure all phones were turned off. Criminals are getting smarter about technology.”
On the Run (Big Mike and Minnie Book 1) Page 9