Page 140 of Joker in the Pack

“I don’t know. I can’t get hold of her. Tate stopped by and said he needed to talk, so they went for a drive. She said she’d only be thirty minutes, but that was over an hour ago, and she’s not answering her phone.”

Fuck! That bastard had the only woman he’d ever truly wanted.

“Where are you?”

“At Daisy’s café in Upper Foxford.”

“Stay there. I’m on my way.”

CHAPTER 40

“WHERE ARE YOU going?”

Emmy’s voice came from Nye’s left. He looked over his shoulder and saw her squashed down the side of her Aston Martin, sitting on the concrete floor of the parking garage with a pizza box balanced on her knees. She put a finger to her lips.

“Olivia’s in danger.”

“Olivia? That’s the girl you’ve been shagging?”

“No, that’s the woman I’m in love with.” He’d thought those words so many times, but he’d never spoken them aloud before.

“Wow. Never thought I’d see the day. What kind of danger?”

“I don’t have time for this.”

He carried on jogging towards his motorbike, parked near the exit, but Emmy abandoned her contraband meal and followed.

“I know that look,” she said. “You’re about to do something crazy.”

“Don’t try to stop me.”

She caught up as he fished the key out of his pocket.

“Hell no, I want in. It’s been a boring week so far. Meetings, meetings, more meetings. But I will postpone your fun if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

And she would, he knew that much. She might look like a pin-up girl, but she fought like a demon with the devil in her corner. Nye stopped to give her a sixty-second rundown, cursing every wasted second in his head.

“So, let me get this straight—you’re going to ride to Upper Foxford and strangle Tate Palmer.”

“That’s pretty much it, yeah. You have a better idea?”

“As it happens, I do.”

A smile crossed her devious face as she explained, and Nye couldn’t help returning it. Emmy may be a world-class bitch, but when she was on his team, he loved that side of her.

“Good plan. Ready to go?”

She grinned. “Four miles, and whatever you do, don’t get caught.”

Nye knew there was a reason he’d bought this bike.

Emmy clung to his waist, blonde hair streaming out behind her as he blasted the Ducati 1098S out of the garage. He hit the first red signal ten seconds later and dodged a van coming across the junction as he ignored the light. Emmy had ripped off his registration plate before they left, but he’d still be lucky if he had a licence after this.

“Left,” she yelled.

“That’s a one-way street.”

“Left!”

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