Page 73 of Covert
"Diesel. Come in, Diesel. Prez says there's a package for you. Over." The male voice comes over the line.
I slam my hand on the walkie-talkie a little too aggressively and press the button. "A package that can't wait until morning? Over."
"He says it's a package you were waiting to see. Over."
My eyes spring open, suddenly very alert. I shove my feet into pants and then my boots, fastening my zipper and button on my jeans as I stumble out of the cabin. There's only one thing I've been waiting to see. And if she's here, I'm not going to miss it.
I run to the clubhouse, but when I see that the lights are turned off, I run past it towards the gates. What I see there stuns me. Straddling a black crotch rocket is a woman wearing all black leather gear and a full black helmet. She revs her engine when she sees me. It feels like a greeting, like a challenge. She kicks the gear and takes off down the road. No. There's no way I'm not seeing her. I run back to my bike, screaming at the probie manning the gate to open it. Foregoing the helmet, I kick my bike to life, slowly drive over the gravel so I don't eat shit, and slide through the gate and onto the road. She's there, waiting for me at the stop sign.
I slide up next to her and wait. She's in charge right now. She has to know I'd follow her anywhere.
So, it's not a surprise when she turns right and we head towards the highway.
I follow her, letting my eyes leisurely peruse her body in the tight leather. Fuck she looks amazing. It's agony not being able to talk to her right now, but I remind myself to trust her. We'll get to talk. When it's safe.
She drives to Kent Island and parks her bike in the same spot we did the one night she finally gave in to the possibility of us. She's in my arms before I've had a chance to even turn my bike off. For a long while, we just hold each other, breathing each other in, so fucking scared that if I let her go, she'll disappear again.
"I don't have much time," she says, finally pulling back and pulling off her helmet.
"I don't understand. Why are you here? Where are you going? Where did you go? What's with the cabins? I'm so fucking confused, babe, please, give me something-anything. The guys say you're in the mafia?"
She shakes her head in frustration. "My dad's drunk right now, so I was able to get away. I have a tracker in my back again. I can't take it out. He'll know. I need to rehome some women and children. My brother and I are working on getting rid of the members of our famiglia that are still loyal to him so my brother can take over. I need a safe space for their wives and kids. I know the MC has a lot of land. I'll send cash with the next one to pay for food and utilities, and stuff. Can you tuck them into a back corner of the compound? Please?"
I'm stunned by everything she's said. A tracker? The mafia? Her famiglia?
"I can't stay in one place for very long, or they'll get suspicious and come looking for me. Right now, they just think I'm on a midnight ride. But I needed to see you. To know you're alright. And to tell you that I'm working to get free. I will get free. It'll just take some time. Please just kiss me."
I don't hesitate, dropping my helmet to the gravel. I grip her hips as she grips my shoulders, and I sit her on the bike facing me, her legs falling to the outside of my own. I spear a hand through her hair and bring her mouth to mine. We don't have time to worship her the way I want, but she's here. Now. And she wants me to kiss her. So we do. For close to thirty minutes, we kiss. It starts eager, quick, a desperate tangle of tongues. It slows eventually, calmer, reassuring, acceptingthat we only have right now, a few stolen minutes, but that there's a hope for a future together. One that she wants badly enough, she's pulling strings and playing politics within her own family.
She has to be careful, smart, and proactive, but she's trying. And it sounds like her brother is supporting her, so she's not completely alone. It's the reassurance I needed to not completely spiral. She didn't leave me, not by choice at least, and she still wants me.
If I need to cut down some trees, set up some cabins, and keep some women and children safe in the meantime, I can do that for her.
So, when she finally breaks the kiss, gives me one last sad smile, and leaves with a quiet, whispered, "I love you," I let her go.
Because I know she's coming back.
Chapter forty-five
Nikki
"Nicoletta, I'd like to see you in my office," my father's deep voice tells me on the phone. After the darkness, they handed me a phone, but I know it's being monitored, so I only use it to scroll TikTok and send stupid things to my brother.
I agree, and hang up the phone, a heavy weight in my stomach. I have to pretend like I don't loathe the man. Like I'm not planning his demise. I've never been good at hiding my emotions or faking things. It's one of the things I love most about my guys. I never have to be anything other than who I am with them. They accept me, flaws and all.
The walk to my father's office is tense. My legs feel stiff and weighed down, like they're resisting. I force them to walk the rest of the way and knock gently on my father's open door.
"Father," I say, keeping my tone flat.
"Sit, Nicoletta." He always uses my full name. He knows I hate it. It's a power play on his part; a way to exert dominance over me. My jaw clenches, but if he sees it, he doesn't comment.
I sit and cross my legs.
"Did you have fun during your little walkabout?" My father couldn't add more derision to his tone if he tried. He's aged a lot in the last decade. He's thin. His dark skin is weathered-looking, and there's more salt than pepper in his hair and beard. He's still a formidable opponent, but he's older now, tired, as if he knows his time's up. My uncle Santino, or Tino, manspreads on the couch next to the window.He'll be the toughest of the men to crack. He's been loyal to my father his entire life. He's a few years younger than my father and has always looked up to him like a hero. A small, sadistic, greedy, ego-maniacal hero.
I shrug a shoulder, aiming for nonchalance. "Not really," I lie through my teeth. "Turns out being broke isn't a whole lot of fun." My father nods, as if he's ever been broke a day in his life.
"Are you ready to fulfil your obligation to la famiglia?"
