Page 77 of Pay the Piper

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.