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Nikki

“I t’s almost showtime.” My best friend Mia, who also served as my producer, said as she popped her head into the studio wearing a bright smile. “Are you ready?”

“Just about,” I nodded as I went over the list of songs I would need queued up over the next three hours of my radio show, Highway Pulse . “We’re going heavy with Classic Rock tonight. I think the topic demands it.”

Mia’s brows rose in surprise. “What’s tonight’s theme?”

I smiled proudly as I answered. “Bonds forged on the road.”

“Oh, that’s going to get us some stories tonight.” She folded her arms and leaned against the doorway. “I don’t know how you get people to call in and tell the whole city their deepest, darkest secrets. It really is a talent.”

“Thanks.” I beamed at her praise, which meant the world to me, coming from my producer—even more than my best friend. “Okay, here’s the set list for tonight.”

“Thanks.” She took the sheet and called for her assistant. “We need these songs ready for Highway Pulse. ”

“On it.” The twenty-one-year-old grabbed the sheet and rushed off to do Mia’s bidding, giving us a few minutes to talk.

“So, have you given any thought to what we talked about over the weekend?”

I let out a heavy sigh and nodded. “I’m always thinking about it, but wouldn’t it be cruel to tell Olivia about her father when I know next to nothing about him and can’t find him?” My little girl was my entire world, and I loved her enough for two parents. I had to, since her dad had done a ‘hit it and quit it’ before I even knew I was pregnant.

“You could try to find him.” Mia tapped her chin. “If only you had a platform that went out to millions of listeners every night from six to nine who would be happy to help you track down the mysterious Logan.”

“Maybe.” I hated to brush her off when she was just concerned because she loved Olivia as much as I did, and she knew how desperate my daughter was for a daddy of her own. “I’ll keep thinking about it until I come up with a solution I can live with.”

“Fine,” Mia blew out a frustrated breath. “I’m happy to help any way I can. Just let me know.”

“I will,” I promised, even though I had no intention of giving it much thought tonight. Olivia was almost six and I figured that gave me at least another year before I had to tell her something.

Mia stared at me for a long moment and then she sighed. “All right, then. Ten minute warning. Break a heel.”

“Thanks.” It was what she always said instead of ‘break a leg’.

I finished my pre-show rituals and set the headphones on my head before I leaned back in my chair and held the microphone a few inches from my mouth, a smile on my face. “Good evening road-a-holics. It’s your girl Nikki back for another night of Highway Pulse where we explore, glorify, and commiserate about our tales from the road. Good, bad, or ugly, I’m here to talk about it with you for the next three hours. Before we get into tonight’s topic, let’s start with this old favorite, ‘Ventura Highway’, to get us in the mood. Spin it.” The first strains of the oldie played, and my eyes slid shut for just a few seconds, letting the music wash over me. It was one of the best parts of my job, the music. Listening to the old rock and blues songs that my dad and I used to listen to when I was a kid. It was just me and him after Mom died, and when we cleaned, grilled out, or went on a drive through the desert, we did it with an incredible soundtrack.

“Okay road warriors let’s kick back and get personal. Really personal if that’s your thing. Tonight’s topic is loyalty and bonds forged on the road. Do you have a road trip story where friendship turned into something more? How about experiencing the kindness of a stranger? Or any other poignant moments that happened to you out on the road? We want to hear them all.”

Mia motioned to me that we already had our first call for the night with her signature two thumbs up and a wide grin.

“Looks like we have our first caller. Oracle, you’re on Highway Pulse , tell us your tale of loyalty or a bond formed on the road. Take the mic.”

“Um, hi. Yes, hello Nikki. Long-time listener, first time caller.” The man sighed and cleared his throat as if contemplating whether he really wanted to tell his story to the Las Vegas metro area or not. “Yeah, okay. This is about a little bit of both actually. I used to work for a well-known local politician and I loved my job, loved helping people, and loved seeing the way they trusted him to do what was best for them.”

I nodded even though Oracle couldn’t see me. “I’m guessing he wasn’t doing what was best for anyone but himself?”

“Exactly, Nikki. It turns out that he was the cliché everyone thinks about when it comes to Vegas politicians. He was totally on the take, keeping company with criminals and diverting city funds to them. Not to mention his own pockets. I confronted him and urged him to do the right thing and guess what?”

He got fired.

“He fired me. Twenty years of service and he fired me.”

“That’s loyalty for ya!”

“Yeah, it’s kind of soured me on the whole business of politics. I get it now when people say there’s no such thing as a good politician.” The bitterness and anger in his voice were expected, but the sadness hit me right in the feels.

I felt for Oracle, I really did. What happened to him wasn’t right, but politics was something we occasionally talked about on the show, and the listeners might be interested in what he had to say. “Feel free to mention him by name if you’re so inclined. Maybe some investigative journalist will hear tonight’s broadcast and dig into his dealings.”

There was a long pause, and I was worried that maybe I’d pushed too far.

“You still with us Oracle? You don’t have to tell us, it’s totally cool.”

“No, it’s not that. His name is Joe. Joe Cameron is my old boss.” The call disconnected for real this time, but Mia had a big smile because she knew, like I did, that call had been gold. And, more importantly, it would be talked about tomorrow on all the local news stations.

“Well thank you Oracle for kicking off tonight’s show. Good luck to you and I hope you rediscover your love of politics.” I played another song, which gave me enough time to scribble some notes about Joe Cameron to swing back around to later in the show.

“Okay ladies and gents, we’re back. Before we get into our next story, don’t forget to grab your tickets for ‘Rock Out in the Desert’. If you love live music, beer, and sunshine, swing by and don’t forget to stop by and say what’s up, to yours truly. Now who’s ready to share a story from the road?” As the calls poured in, I thought of my own bond unwittingly forged on the road, a bond that only one of us knew about to this day.

Mia tapped on the glass that separated the studio from the production booth, her brows dipped in concern. “Next caller,” she mouthed to me.

I shook my head to free my thoughts from that wild night a little over six years ago and turned my attention to the next caller. My gaze flicked to the screen to see the caller’s name and smiled. “Rebel, you’re on.”

“Yeah, hey.” His voice was deep and smooth as he began. “I’m a biker, as in I spend a shi—” he laughed. “I spend a lot of time on my bike, and one year my club brothers and I were on a road trip to Chicago. It was an epic road trip, but on the way back home we ran into trouble—the kind that came with anger and bullets. My brother had taken a bullet to the shoulder, and he struggled to keep his bike upright.”

“Oh no!” It wasn’t like me to interrupt but I was completely transfixed by the deep baritone and the smooth honey voice of this man, Rebel.

“Yeah, it was a rough day.” His laughter spoke of a man who didn’t frazzle easily, who was cool under pressure. “So I weaved between him and danger, risking my own life to keep my brother on two wheels.”

The more Rebel spoke, the more his voice transported me back in time to a man who’d given me one of the most erotic and thrilling nights of my life. It wasn’t just the memories, though. With every word that Rebel spoke, he sounded vaguely familiar. I shook it off because it wasn’t the first time I’d been convinced that the voice on the other end of the line was my guy, the one who’d given me a daughter.

The guy who walked away without a note, a number, or a look backwards.

“Wow. So,” I began but my voice faltered at the low growl he let out that sent a shiver down my spine. “So,” I tried again. “Are you and this guy you risked your life for, still friends today?”

Rebel’s laughter was contagious. “Hell yeah. He’s my brother in every way that matters.”

“Now that is a real bond. Thank you for sharing your story with us on Highway Pulse , Rebel.”

“Right. I mean, you’re welcome.” His tone was gruff and then the call was over.

I was both relieved and disappointed that the call had ended so abruptly, but I recovered quickly. “Well, let’s see who can top that harrowing tale of bonding on the road. Misty, you have the mic.”

The show and the stories went on but my mind kept circling back to the biker called Rebel and his voice that seemed to take me back to a time and a place that I couldn’t seem to forget.

As soon as the next song break started, Mia rushed into the studio. “What the hell was that?” Her eyes were wide and filled with questions. “Your voice was all shaky. I know his voice was panty-melting, but that’s so unlike you.”

I shook out my tingling hands and let out a long breath. “It was that caller, Rebel. His voice was familiar.” The more I thought about it and replayed his voice—as crazy as it sounded—the more certain I was that it was him. “Rebel is Logan,” I whispered. “Olivia’s dad.” Saying the words aloud made them real and I stared, unseeing, at the floor, as I realized what this meant.

Logan was here in Vegas.

I couldn’t keep Olivia a secret for much longer.