Page 21 of Mile High With the Bikers (Screaming Eagles MC #10)

RORY

I wake up feeling like someone's ringing a church bell inside my head with a sledgehammer. It reverberates through my skull, making my teeth rattle and my brain hurt. Am I dead? Is this hell? It sure feels that way.

My eyelids scrape over my eyeballs as I force them open with a wince.

It takes a long moment to puzzle out that I’m in one of the boys’ apartments.

It takes an even longer moment before I start getting an inkling of how I got here.

Cherry, Opal, margaritas, going to the bar.

Something stronger from… from… Badass? Bull coming to find me.

Trying to make him dance with me. Badly.

God, was that me?

Maybe I should just pass out again. Or die.

That sounds nice right now. Except there's a heady scent of cooking food tickling my nose, something…

breakfast-ey and, is that coffee? My stomach rumbles in response.

Or maybe it's the alcohol still settling.

I'm honestly not convinced that I'm sober yet.

I force myself to sit up. I'm naked. Did Bull… No. I vaguely remember waking up sweaty in the middle of the night and tearing everything off.

What I wouldn't give for painkillers.

I can't decide if food is something that I really, really want right now, or if it'll just make me throw up.

Could go either way, but I need to shake this headache.

Throwing the covers aside, I slide off the bed and grab a big hoodie I find hanging over the laundry basket, slipping my phone into the pouch.

Are they going to be mad at me about last night? I was supposed to find Shrapnel, but if I ever did, I don’t remember.

Voices drift in with the food smells. Sounds like all three of them are out in the living area. Hopefully there'll be sympathy instead of yelling. I don’t know if I can handle yelling without my brain exploding. I push the door open.

Diesel notices first. “Morning, sunshine. You look like death warmed over.”

“Yeah, thanks.” I'd roll my eyes at him, but even that feels like it'd hurt right now. There’s a couch. I curl up on it and lean my head back on the cushion behind me. “Anyone have painkillers? And I'll take a double helping of that coffee.”

Bull is the one at the stove, frying up something. He talks over his shoulder while he stirs. “I'll have tofu scramble up in a sec. The coffee's just about done. Your timing is perfect.”

“Tofu?” I mean, that sounds fine, but with this crowd I kind of figured it'd be beef, beef and more beef.

Shrapnel shrugs with a lopsided grin. “All Bull, no beef.”

“I’ve been vegan since I was sixteen,” Bull explains, stirring the scramble. “And since I’m the only one who can cook, they don’t get a fucking say in it.”

“Joke’s on him,” Diesel mutters. “I'll eat anything that tastes good. Beef, beans, pussy…”

Well, so much for the idea that you can't build muscle and strength without meat. I dare anyone to tell Bull that. “Sure. Sounds delicious. Especially if there’s a side of ibuprofen.”

“Bathroom, under the sink,” Bull says, and Shrapnel goes to get it.

He comes back and slides the bottle across the table to me.

“Oh thank God.” I twist the cap off and pop two in my mouth, just in time for Diesel to bring me a glass of water. I wash the pills down, then put my head back again, closing my eyes—gently—and waiting for the painkillers to work.

The clink of the plate being put down in front of me rouses me from my half doze.

Curious, I force my eyes open to see. Wow.

Scramble, toast, raspberries, blueberries and some greens are artfully arranged on a plate, looking and smelling amazing.

And next to it, a mug full of coffee. “I got soy milk and oat milk, and sugar if you want it.” Bull holds up two cartons.

“Oat milk, please.” I draw a long slow breath, pulling the scents in deep, and deciding yeah, maybe some food would settle my stomach.

I end up asking for seconds, both of breakfast, and coffee.

Good thing he made enough to feed a small army, because that’s how much just the three of them can put away.

They let me eat in peace, and by the time I'm scraping the plate, my belly is full and my headache isn't gone, but at least reduced to a dull throb.

“Feeling better?” Bull smiles with concern.

I almost nod, but catch myself. I force a smile instead. “Much, thank you. I could learn to live with this kind of wake-up service.”

Diesel laughs and scratches his beard. “You're getting a little extra coddled, just because you had a rough night. Gotta watch out for the sluts. They drink some of the brothers under the table.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” I tuck my legs up into the hoodie. It’s nice to draw a breath again without feeling like it also inflates my head inside a helmet that's two sizes too small.

And that's when my phone rings. Reluctantly, I pull it free of the pocket and look at it. It's Dad. I let a sigh fill my mouth, ballooning my cheeks before I let it out. “I need to get this.”

Diesel shrugs. He’s standing in a patch of sunlight, his fire kissed hair practically glowing. “Okay? Nobody’s stopping you.”

“I know, but… it's my father.”

“Oh, secret family stuff. Gotcha.” Shrapnel laughs. He mimes zipping his mouth and throwing away the key.

“Something like that.” I answer. “Hey, Dad. Good morning.”

“Morning? It's almost noon. Don't tell me you just woke up.”

I wince. It feels like he's screaming into my ear, both because of my hangover and because Dad always approaches life at full volume. “I… um, had trouble sleeping. New place and all that. I'm not used to the sounds yet.” All three of the guys chuckle. “What's up?”

“Are they treating you well? I'm paying them good money to keep you safe, but if they're doing anything to?—”

“They're fine. I'm fine. Just not sleeping great. I'll get over it.”

“Excellent. I assume you have a proper workstation set up by now.” Straight to business, then. “Are you alone? Those men might be the best of a list of bad options, but that doesn’t mean I trust them.”

I glance at the guys and make a decision based on both logic and feeling like a family of angry raccoons are living in my skull.

“Yeah, it’s just me,” I lie. “We can talk.” I can’t keep doing all of this on my own, and I don’t know where to start explaining.

Maybe just not hiding anymore will be a good first step.

“I need you to go through the logs from New York and make sure the corruption levels are acceptable. This isn’t internal testing anymore. The results need to speak for themselves when I’m dealing with outsiders who have no technical understanding.”

“Sure, I get it. I’ll start on that today.”

“Good. After the success of the last demonstration, I’m arranging a second look.”

I blink. Success? “Dad, your plane was hijacked and that CEO killed himself. What do you mean, it was a success?”

All three bikers go still. I offer them a flat smile. They were listening before, but now they’re watching me like a potentially dangerous stranger just sat at the table.

“Unfortunate, of course, but we knew from the start that if Hermes worked it would rattle a lot of cages. And it did! We pitted it against a completely untested location, and it blew everyone away. My mistake was leaving us vulnerable to the teeth of a dying animal that lashed out at what it saw as a personal threat.”

Oh my God. If I could smack him through the phone, I would.

Maybe the boys are starting to wear off on me.

“Someone tried to kill you! Don’t you think it would be a good idea to stay out of sight for a while and rethink this whole plan?

Why expose yourself again? Do you even know who’s responsible yet? ”

“Stop being dramatic. Those who aren’t willing to take a risk will never reap a true reward.

Now that we know the stakes, security will be prepared.

In fact, I'm counting on someone trying something. How else am I going to ferret out the troublemakers?” I can almost see the self-centered smirk he's undoubtedly wearing.

“You know as well as I do that we hold all the cards. Even if they make a move, they will achieve nothing.”

For a genius, my father is a real idiot sometimes. “Right, okay. When are you planning on doing this demonstration?”

“Two o’clock. I’ll let you know when to be ready.”

“Are you kidding? That’s less than two hours from now!” I’m sitting around eating breakfast with a hangover in nothing but a borrowed hoodie.

“I wouldn’t joke about this. I expect to see the system online when I need it.”

“Fine.” As much as the idea of him crashing out in front of an audience appeals to me, it would just end up hurting us more than it would help and there’s no time to sit around discussing it.

He laughs. “I left you too long under your mother’s influence, but I’ll make a Whittaker out of you yet.

We can't stop now, Rory. The cat's out of the bag.

If we don't move fast, we’re just giving someone else time to piggyback on our success.

You're brilliant, but history is littered with the bodies of innovators that came in second.”

“For the record, I don't think this is a good idea.”

“It's already done. I’ve adjusted our safety precautions and I'll be fine. Mason and his team will be with me to make sure nothing goes wrong.”

“Dad, I don’t know if you’ve thought this through but,” I pitch my voice lower, “my laptop is here . Think about what that means when you run the program.”

He scoffs. “That’s what makes it perfect.

Salvadore and the other criminals will respect my reach and what could a motorcycle club possibly have that matters?

I doubt there’s more than three computers in that entire backwards place.

” Oh my God, he really just doesn't care about the ramifications of what he does.

As long as he profits from it, apparently, it just doesn't matter.

“Dad!”

“Listen, I've got a shareholders meeting. Stop lazing around and prepare for tomorrow. I'm already looking forward to it.” And with that, he hangs up.

I drop my phone back into the pocket, then look up to find Bull, Shrapnel and Diesel watching me intently.

Bull wets his lips. “Something you wanna tell us about, angel?”