Misha
I can practically taste my irritation with myself as we wait for Dante and Gabri to join us in the empty office we’ve commandeered.
I’m acting ridiculous, and I know it. But I can’t help it.
Knowing that Abby is several rooms over in the family suite is torture.
It’s been hours since I’ve seen her, and the urge to have her within arm’s reach at all times is growing every day.
She’s rarely seen me in such a state. I could count on one hand how many times I’ve lost my patience like this, and I’ve earned her wrath on each occasion, so I know it’s coming later.
I really can’t help it, though. Not when I get to have her as a backpack while I race.
My fiery girl. I haven’t felt the intoxicating freedom of a real race in months, and the chance to beat a Santori with my girl wrapped around my back…
Nikki chuckles, pushes himself from where he was propped against the wall, and pats Mila on the shoulder. “Cut the man some slack. He’s in love.”
Mila grabs his wrist with predatory speed. “First off, little Santori, don’t touch me. Second, in love or not, he has a job to do.” She throws his hand away from her and turns to me. “Fifteen minutes. Hold it together for fifteen minutes, and you can get back to Abby.”
I roll my eyes and continue to pout. Fifteen minutes is too long. Surely, she feels that way with Thatcher. Fuck, I don’t know how they do the long-distance thing.
“Oh shit!” Nikki steps out of Mila’s reach this time. “You met Abby? What did you think?”
Mila fixes him with a raised brow. “How do you know her?”
Nikki shrugs. “She and Ellie are close, so she’s around a lot.”
“Well?” I can’t help but press for my closest friend’s opinion, even if Nikki’s answer was impertinent.
Mila’s attention snaps to me, her eyes wide.
“Well, what?” she snips.
“What did you think of Abby?”
“You’re pathetic. You know that, right?” Mila rolls her eyes but can’t hide her smile. “She’s lovely, moya sila. I think she’s absolutely perfect. She’s sweet and beautiful and funny. I love her already.”
My grin couldn’t be wider at her confession, and Nikki looks just as pleased.
The door flies open to reveal Gabri, already dressed in slacks and a button-up, and Dante Santori, sporting a Thunder Bay jersey with Santori written across the back.
Dante smiles warmly as he greets Mila and me, then wraps Nikki in a bear hug. “Great game tonight, son! Your puck protection is looking much better than last year. The new drills you’ve been working on during the offseason—”
Gabri clears his throat and draws the room’s attention to where he’s propped against the desk. “We don’t have all night, Papa.”
“Yes, of course, go on.” Dante winks at Nikki before moving to take the seat behind the desk.
Mila, Nikki, and I pull up a seat while Gabri moves to stand behind his father. This is one time when I agree with Gabri’s lack of human emotion. I, too, am ready to get this show on the road.
“We got word that Conor Fitzpatrick’s men are en route to Florida as we speak.
We’re tracking his jet and will diligently monitor his movements upon arrival.
We don’t think he would do anything rash.
It would be foolish for anyone to come into Thunder Bay and start a war, but especially someone with his forces so far away.
We don’t know his motive yet, but we hope to find out shortly. ”
Dante finishes his spiel and asks if anyone has any questions, but no one does. The Fitzpatrick operation is new to my radar, so I admit I haven’t been super concerned. Mila seems just as unfazed as I am, but Nikki seems troubled. And I’m not the only one who notices.
“Well, if that’s all, I’ll see you later.”
“Are you okay, Nikki?”
Nikki’s expression changes suddenly as he realizes his facade wasn’t on. “Yeah. I’m just thinking about the race tonight. A little bummed to miss it…but it’s no problem if you need me!”
Gabri rolls his eyes as Dante laughs. “No need to skip that. We’ve got plenty of men on this tonight, including your brother.”
“On that note, I’ll take my leave.” Gabri nods his farewells.
Mila squeezes my hand under the ledge of the desk, indicating she’s called Nikki’s bluff too. “Aha! I’ll finally get a chance to beat the great Nikki Santori in one of his precious races.”
Dante’s warm laughter fills the room. “I’ve seen Misha go on rides with Nikki, but I didn’t know you rode as well, Mila.”
“Of course. Unfortunately, I rarely have the time anymore, and even if I did, it’s becoming exponentially more dangerous. But Nikki promised me that the security tonight would be tight.”
“Oh, whatever.” I roll my eyes jokingly, grinning widely at Mila. “You stopped riding years ago when you couldn’t beat me.”
“I stopped riding when Giulia found out she was having a girl,” Dante says, laughing when Nikki grumbles something about Ellie being the favorite.
“Well, I’m beating you tonight, moya sila. And then I’m coming for you, little Santori.” Mila squints at Nikki.
“Nobody is going to beat anyone if we don’t get out of here.” Dante stands from his seat. “I wish you all the best of luck.”
I spring up as soon as Don Santori dismisses us. “You seem a little too sure of yourself, moya tsaritsa.”
Mila winks at Nikki. “Oh, I am.” She skips in front of me and opens the door. “And you can thank Thatcher for that.”
“This is your surprise?”
Thatcher stands proudly beside a black Ducati he had customized with a pink memory foam seat for the passenger.
Mila is doing everything she can, but I know her, and I can tell she’s about to lose her composure.
When she told me she felt confident about her win tonight, I should have known she had something up her sleeve.
“Thanks, Thatch.” I ruffle his hair and pull him into a half hug, my girl still firmly attached to my other side. “This will be much more comfortable for Abby.”
Thatcher’s expression turns dramatically melancholy, and Mila grimaces behind him.
“I think Thatcher wants to ride with you tonight.” Mila wraps her arm around her pouting boyfriend. “Isn’t that right, baby?”
Thatcher nods like a sad puppy, and I sigh.
There will be no arguing with her about this.
What her guy wants, he gets. And this explains why she thinks she’ll win.
There’s no way in hell Thatcher won’t manage to distract me somehow.
“Of course you can ride with me.” I smile at him.
“I just assumed you would want to ride with Mila.”
Mila breathes a sigh of relief. “Abby will ride with me! Don’t worry, we’re going to smoke the guys.”
She pulls Abby from my arms before I can protest and guides her to her sleek black BMW.
The momentary shock of her absence from my body is brief as I watch the two women I love giggling like a pair of old friends.
I would make it work either way, but it means the world to me that they’re already getting along so well.
Of course, if I have to put up with Thatcher’s goofy ass, Mila better not complain about my lesnaya.
Speaking of which…Thatcher is already propped on his seat, helmet on and buckled, grinning from ear to ear.
His smile is contagious, and I can’t help but mirror it, especially as I take everything in.
Between Abby laughing on the back of Mila’s bike and our most trusted Taranov and Santori men laughing and enjoying time with their partners, this is the lightest I’ve felt in a long time.
Nikki did a great job organizing this event.
He’s lined up at the far end of the starting line, but his smile as he regards his friends is hollow.
I’ve seen that kind of loneliness before.
“One-minute warning!”
The rush of adrenaline that always thrills me pre-race overrides my thoughts about Nikki as I shut my helmet visor and rev my new bike. It’s been way too long since I’ve flown down the track. Let’s go.
As I zone in on the starter’s arm, holding their flag aloft and building the anticipation before they drop it and all hell breaks loose, I realize I never briefed Thatcher on his one responsibility. Looking over my shoulder, I try to convey my seriousness even though he can’t see my eyes.
“You know you need to hold on and stay still, right?”
“You got it, boss.”
“You can do that? Completely still?”
“One hundred percent.”
After a beat, as I’m turning back to the starter whose arm is on the verge of dropping, he clarifies. “Well, maybe ninety-nine.”
With that, the flag is down, and we’re off.
As our throttles slam open and we roar down the strip, Nikki slides through each gear like butter, pulling a bike-length ahead.
Mila and I are close behind, but it sounded like she was a little conservative with her shift into third.
By the time we’re halfway to the finish, we’re neck and neck, and the unique calm I only ever find at top speed kicks in.
My engine roars, echoing off the empty warehouses we’re screaming past, and within the next hundred yards, I’ll be in the lead…then disaster strikes. Disaster in the form of my backpack.
“Holy shit!”
Thatcher’s cry causes me to instinctively lift off the throttle, moments before we cross the finish line. In third. Keying the mic, I try to stay calm.
“Are you okay? What the hell happened?”
As we slow to a stop, he rips his helmet off. Instead of being hurt or upset, his eyes are bright.
“Did you see the possum with all its babies?”
“Is that why you screamed into the mic, scared the fuck out of me, and lost us this race?”
He doesn’t even have the decency to act chagrined.
“Yep. If you didn’t see them, it’s not because I didn’t try to get your attention. They were so cute.”
Thatcher drones on, but I’m too busy searching for Abby, and the minute I spot Mila lifting her off the bike, I make a beeline to them.
Mila smiles and passes my shaking girl to me. Abby wraps her arms around my waist, and I breathe in the comforting scent of her hair.
Mine.