Page 52 of Taming Mika

“Vincent’s going to share our location. I need you to come pick me up. I’ll be a moving target, so plan ahead and find somewhere to land along I-85. We’re driving up to meet you.”

The sound of fingers tapping a phone screen issues from the passenger seat.

“Sure thing,” Salvatore confirms.

“Give me back to Marco.” I usually try to be more cordial with my pilot, but right now, my nerves are strung tight as piano wire. It’s taking considerable effort to keep us on the road as the car creeps closer to a hundred and fifty. I don’t have the time or brain space to give a damn about being nice.

“Yeah, boss,” Marco says, his rougher baritone filling the front seat of the car.

“What happened?”

“Nikolai. I didn’t get all the details. By the time the chopperlanded, it was over, and his men were gone, but Ottavio had his hands full cleaning up the mess?—”

“Is Mika alright?” I growl.

“Yeah, yeah,” he answers quickly. “She’s safe. She’s alive. I stationed extra guards at the gate who know to shoot anyone on sight unless they’re part of the caravan coming up from the city. The rest of my guys should be here any minute now. But it looks like Ottavio’s unit took a pretty good hit. They’ll need the reinforcements.”

I jerk the steering wheel, whipping around a driver crawling along in the left lane, and get a loud blast from someone’s horn, but we’re past the scene so quickly, I don’t even know who honked at me, nor do I care. I do ease off the gas just slightly, though, slowing the car slightly now that I know Mika is safe—that whatever danger she was in is already over. Though not as much as Vincent would prefer, I think. “And you can’t tell me any more than that?”

“All I know is Nikolai’s men rolled in driving some big trailer truck, shot some guy in the head, demanded your woman, then opened fire on Ottavio and his men when they wouldn’t hand her over. They took off—probably when they realized they were outgunned. From the sounds of it, it was only a handful of them.”

I can hear the sound of a door slamming, then the crunch of gravel under Marco’s shoes.

“Did Nina see anything?”

“Not much—the blood while we were driving her up to the house.”

“Good,” I state flatly. I try to keep my sister shielded from the violence as much as I can, and I don’t like how close she came to ending up right in the middle of a firefight, but I trust Marco with her life—just like I trust him with mine. “Keep it like that. Ottavio’s not picking up his phone. I need to speak with him.”

“Already on my way.”

The distant sound of horses whinnying makes me wonder whether the animals ended up in the line of fire at all—if they were, Mika would never forgive me. That much, I know.

Marco and Ottavio share a quick exchange, and a moment later, the captain I left in charge of Mika’s safety comes on the phone.

“I’m sorry, boss,” he says, his voice tight with strain.

“Where’s Mika?” I demand, brushing aside his apology as I take another fast curve.

“Still at the barn,” he says flatly, his tone indicating he’s no happier about it than I am. “I couldn’t get her to come back to the house after the grooms left en masse.”

Have you considered throwing her over your shoulder and dragging her back to the house?She’s skinny enough, he could carry her without a problem. But I don’t suggest it out loud because as soon as the thought crosses my mind, a wave of possessive anger rips through my chest at the thought of him touching her—and I imagine Ottavio knows better than to cross that line.

Then, the full meaning of his words starts to sink in. “What do you mean the grooms left? All of them?”

“All but two. They quit on the spot, took their cars, and left the property. I didn’t think they would be the priority.”

“What the fuck happened, Ottavio?” I demand. Whatever it was must have been bad enough to scare them off, and my palms grow slick around the steering wheel as my pulse kicks up a notch.

“The guy who delivered the horses yesterday? He rolled up to the front gates, asking to speak to Miss Harper, said it was urgent. I was turning him away, but your woman insisted we let him in. The guys stationed at the gate didn’t see anything off about the driver, so I made the call to let him in?—”

I can hear the regret in Ottavio’s extended pause, the guilt at knowing his wrong call allowed Nikolai to do what he did. Ottavio continues, explaining how one of Nikolai’s men shot Joel as soon as he got out of the truck, demanding they hand Mika over so that no one else had to die. My stomach knots when Ottavio mentions some of the grooms were ready to do so, and a burning fury rises in my chest. The cowards—they’re lucky they left, because I would kill any man who stayed and expected my protection after considering such a deal.

“We lost two men in the firefight—seven more are injured. None of the barn staff were hurt, though, and we managed to take care of the driver before your sister arrived.”

Sighing heavily, I ease off the gas as I resist the urge to massage my temples, and I catch sight of the chopper along the horizon as it lowers toward the ground just off to my left about a mile ahead.

“You fucked up, Ottavio,” I state flatly. I get it. Mika can be very persuasive and hardheaded, but I can’t give my captain much leeway when it cost multiple men their lives.

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