Hell on Wheels (Black Knights Inc. #1)(42)
Becky had to give the woman snaps for tenacity. Had Nate focused that black-laser gaze on her, she’d have probably folded like a poker player with a bad hand, but Ali had simply thrust up her chin and dared everyone in the room to nay-say her.
Now the poor woman wasn’t looking so sure of herself. Her next words confirmed it. “Is it too late to change my mind?”
It was a good thing Ghost hadn’t heard that above Phantom’s loud rumble, or he’d jump at the chance to leave Ali behind. Becky, however, thought this little journey was going to be good for the both of them.
“Just hang on,” she told Ali, giving the worried woman a quick, sisterly hug. “That’s the only advice I’ll give you.”
Ali made a face before slipping the helmet over her head and gingerly mounting up behind Nate. She adjusted herself, then adjusted herself again.
Uh-huh. Now Ali was beginning to get the picture. Riding backseat on a bike like Phantom was better than Mr. Blue any day. Not to mention the highly erotic act of wrapping one’s legs around the man you loved.
Becky secretly grinned at the thought of the very long ride Ali had ahead of her.
Ghost gave a thumbs-up, and Becky whistled. Dan Man, Ozzie, and Patti jogged down the metal stairs to the shop floor at the shrill sound of her summons.
Wow. Becky had to admit, Patti looked pretty frickin’ hot in her long, blond wig. And by the way Dan kept shooting steamy glances over his shoulder at his wife, she assumed the guy wholeheartedly agreed with her assessment.
She watched Dan and Patti mount up before shoving her helmet into place and swinging up behind Ozzie.
As the motorcycle rumbled to life beneath her, through her visor she watched Frank step off the stairway and amble toward the big, red button beside the ten-drawer rolling Craftsman tool cabinet. Smashing it with his wide palm, the red warning light blinked, and she turned to see one whole section of the shop wall slide back and to the left until there was nothing but a gaping black hole. It was the beginning of a tunnel dug down under the north branch of the Chicago River that would terminate in a parking garage two blocks west.
The smell of damp concrete and stale air drifted inside her helmet as she watched Ali lean past Ghost’s broad back to get a better look. She smiled when she imagined the woman’s surprise.
Holy secret tunnels, Batman!
Yepper, sometimes working for a group of clandestine government operators had its perks.
They’d decided to play the classic shell game. If whoever was watching—namely Ali’s mystery man—managed to somehow catch them even after they’d exited through their secret tunnel, he’d still only have a one in three chance of being able to follow the correct couple. Their plan was to take three bikes, three men, and three blond women covered head to toe in identical black leather out on the highway. Once there, each couple would quickly veer off in a different direction. Their tail, if they even had one, would have to choose. It wasn’t a foolproof plan, but it was better than nothing.
“Rebecca!”
What had she said about working for a group of clandestine government operators having its perks? Well, it had its drawbacks, too.
“Damnit!” Frank’s voice vibrated with frustration, loud enough to be heard over the three roaring bikes.
She winced as she glanced over her shoulder and saw him holding two fistfuls of suckers. Okay, so she could totally explain why she’d filled his jacket pockets with root beer Dum Dums this morning, and it had nothing to do with getting a little revenge for the hissy fit he’d thrown yesterday when she’d been forced to come clean about Ozzie’s techie lessons.
Okay, maybe it had a little bit to do with that…Okay, so it had everything to do with that, but the dill-hole deserved it.
She felt devilish delight knowing that big Frank Knight, the man with unshakable will, couldn’t resist those little suckers.
Just went to show, even he had a weakness.
Unfortunately, his weakness wasn’t her.
Chapter Ten
Whoa. What the hell?
Dagan threw some folded George Washingtons on the counter, grabbed his double-shot espresso from the startled barista, and scrambled out the door of the little coffee shop on the corner of Noble and West Division just in time to see three of the Black Knights’ monster bikes fly past.
The three leather-clad figures clinging to the men’s backs were all petite, all blond. And, unfortunately, any one of them could’ve been Alisa Morgan.
Damn.
He fished inside his pocket and pulled out a small device. Jumping into his newly rented SUV, he started the engine and swerved into traffic amidst the blaring horns of pissed-off Chicago cabbies. Glancing down at the device in his hand, he frowned at the glowing green light.
So…
They hadn’t exited the Knights’ compound by the front gate.
He’d planted a sensor there last night to alert him whenever the gates were opened, and his reconnaissance revealed no other way in or out of the grounds, which left only one thing…
Black Knights Inc. came equipped with a bolt-hole.
He’d figured they might have one, because those guys would never allow themselves to be put in a situation where there was only one avenue of escape.
Battle Strategy 101.
And, honestly, didn’t he understand that life? Never relaxing your guard, always having a contingency plan for every minor thing, and most importantly, always having a way out if discretion was the order of the day or if, more importantly, things went from sugar to shit, as they so often had the tendency to do?