Chasing Summer

by Nicola Claire

  Turning my full attention back on the shearing shed and the lack of movement, I said, “Well?”

  “You think now’s the time to get into it?”

  “What happened on the wharf?”

  “You know about that?”

  “I know you were there, doing an exchange of some sort, and that a man was found dead not long after.”

  “I never made it to the exchange,” he said.

  I looked at him them. Just briefly. Just enough to see if I could detect a lie. Mikey wasn’t above lying to me if it protected the Rikas and himself. But I was pretty damn sure he looked surprised.

  “You didn’t know about the dead guy?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head and then wincing.

  “John Joseph Logan,” I supplied.

  “I know him,” he muttered. “Know of him.”

  “Knew,” I corrected. “He’s dead. Strangulation by fishing rope.”

  I looked at him again.

  “I didn’t do it,” he quickly said, but I wasn’t sure. My neck was prickling, but it hadn’t stopped since I got here. At least the tapping at the base of my skull had quit it.

  I let out a slow breath of air.

  “Why didn’t you make it to the wharf?” I asked.

  “Jonesy’s men got me before I even made it to Mangonui.”

  “Jonesy?”

  “Kaitaia,” he said. I thought Jonesy must have been the head dillhole of the gang out of Kaitaia. I didn’t know any Jonesy, and I didn’t need to know right now.

  What I needed was a way out of this.

  But that desperate thought didn’t stop me from asking, “Why did they take you, Mikey?”

  “Can’t tell you that, Summer,” he replied.

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Both.”

  “I rescued your butt,” I told him.

  “You moved it from one shit situation to another and got it shot at.”

  “You wanna be tied up again?” I threatened.

  “You’ve got no rope.”

  “I’ve got a gun,” I muttered.

  “Always so feisty, Summer.” He reached up to touch my hair again, but I shifted and placed space between us.

  “Listen, bud,” I said, “I’ve had a bad couple of days, so if you don’t mind…”

  I stopped when Mikey held up his hand. Straining, I thought I heard what had caught his attention.

  The low, throaty purr of more than one Harley Davidson.

  “Jonesy’s?” I asked, dread pooling in the pit of my stomach.

  “Nah,” Mikey replied with a stupid grin on his hairy mug. “I’d know the sound of our bikes anywhere.”

  Yay, the cavalry had arrived. Rescued by Rikas.

  I wasn’t sure if that was a better situation to be in or not.

  Chapter 21

  Easy, Tiger

  A dozen leather-clad, armed and dangerous, Harley Davidson riding Rika gang members rolled up to the shearing shed; across the pasture and through the sheep droppings as if they didn’t have a care in the world. I could pick Darren Rika out of the lineup easily; he had the loudest and meanest looking bike.

  They spotted the downed Kaitaia gang members and split up; a simple hand signal from Darren was all it took for the bikers to disappear into the surrounding cover. Darren didn’t. He climbed off his bike, slowly removed his helmet, and scowled at the shearing shed, the farmland, and everything else.

  I watched it all, unwilling to emerge from the safety of the pine grove until I was sure whoever had shot at the Kaitaia gang members had disappeared. Mikey wasn’t saying a thing either, so perhaps he agreed with me.

  No one fired on Darren. His cocky belief that he wouldn’t get a bullet between the eyes almost made me pull my gun and sight down the barrel just to prove him wrong about his immortality. But with careful consideration, I decided that wasn’t a wise idea. The temptation would be too much.

  Several of Darren’s men appeared on the edge of open farmland and shook their heads at him. Then the sound of footsteps through the pine needles caught my ears. I spun, gun up and finger resting beside the trigger, and met the barrel of a Rika gun.

  “Easy, tiger,” Colin Rika said.

  Colin was slap bang in the middle somewhere on the Rika totem pole. I often got him mixed up with his twin, Jordie. It helped that Colin had a bung eye and Jordie had a moko on his face.

  “Colin,” I said, lowering my gun.

  His eyes flicked to his younger brother.

  “You in a heap of trouble, runt,” he said.

  Mikey told his brother to go do something anatomically impossible to himself. Colin simply whacked him over the back of his head.

  “He’s been shot,” I said.

  “Only thing saving him from a beating,” Colin told me. “Get up,” he ordered his brother.

  Mikey struggled to his feet, and Colin relented, reaching out and steadying him. Wrapping an arm about his brother’s shoulders, Mikey limped out of the cover of the trees; leaving me with little option but to follow.

  I checked my gun, made sure the safety was off, and then slipped it into the back of my shorts, pulling my t-shirt out over the top to hide it. I knew most of those, if not all of those, present were armed. But it was always best to seem unthreatening to a Rika brother.

  Darren stood in front of the sheep pens with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. His men were fanned out around him, keeping an eye on the pastures and tree-line which could have still hidden the shooter. I had no idea who’d shot the Kaitaia men, but I was betting it wasn’t a Rika.

  Colin almost dragged Mikey across the pasture to the oldest Rika brother. I sauntered along behind, wondering if I could make a sneaky exit. Finally, we made Darren’s side.

  “You hit?” Darren asked.

  “Through and through,” Mikey replied.

  “Summer take them out?” Darren nodded at the two dead Kaitaia men but kept his eyes on his brother.

  “Nah. Someone else,” Mikey told him.

  Darren let out a huff of breath and then finally looked me in the eye. He winced slightly.

  “You look like shit,” he said.

  I reached up and wiped a hand over my face and then looked at my palm.

  “More like covered in it,” I muttered, and offered Mikey a glare.

  “You hurt?” Darren asked, surprising me.

  I shook my head.

  He grunted.

  “Back to base, then,” he said, turning away and walking toward his bike.

  “What about them?” I said, pointing at the dead bodies.

  “Kaitaia will clean it up.”

  “The cops…” I started.

  “If you call the cops, Summer O’Dare, I’ll tan your arse myself.”

  I huffed out a breath and crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m a private investigator,” I growled.

  “Summer,” Mikey said in a pleading tone of voice. “Drop it.”

  I glared at him and glared at the back of Darren’s head and then glared at each and every Rika standing around the paddock.

  “Follow us, sweet cheeks,” Darren called out. “Nana wants to make sure you’re all right.”

  Summoned by the Rika kaumatua. Great.

  “OK,” I said. “I just need to find my cell phone. I am not leaving that here for Kaitaia to pick up.”

  “Already got it,” Darren said, picking up his helmet and preparing to put it on.

  I perked up, walking toward him with my hand held out and my fingers curled in a “give me” motion.

  “Nah-uh, honey,” he said. “You can have your phone once you get to the homestead.”

  “Are you confiscating my cell phone, Darren Rika?” I demanded. A few snickers could be heard from some of the guys.

  “I don’t trust you to call your boyfriend.”

  “Don’t trust me?” I demanded as Mikey said, “Boyfriend?”

  “He’s left six messages and sent four texts,” Darren supplied. Danv
ers had been busy. And then I remembered the cryptic message I’d left on his cell phone.

  I grimaced. Darren laughed.

  “Follow us,” he repeated. Conversation over.

  I stomped to the Micra, muttering swearwords I was too much a lady to use out loud. Then I brushed myself down as much as I could and slid into the driver’s seat. I expected Mikey to join me, he didn’t have a bike and he was injured. But one of the lesser plebs did. A non-Rika brother. He’d clearly been instructed to give up his ride for Mikey. No Rika would be seen dead in the Mighty Micra.

  I snorted, started the engine, glared at my sidekick who was way too big for my pipsqueak of a car and performed an exemplary three point turn. Then I shot out of there as if my tail were on fire. The guy next to me hung on for dear life.

  It didn’t take long for me to be surrounded by Harley Davidsons, and then as if escorting the president, they guided me back to Doubtless Bay and the Rika homestead.

  I knew the cops had to be involved. I knew I needed to let Danvers know what had happened. But there was nothing I could do, so I settled in for the long haul and just prayed this all sorted itself out in the end.

  Mikey was alive, that’s all that mattered for now. Maybe, if I asked nicely, I’d get some answers.

  Mikey hadn’t made his meeting on the wharf and said he hadn’t killed the Kaitaia gang member. But the rope used to tie him up in the shearing shed was the same kind of rope used to strangle John Joseph Logan in Mangonui. The Kaitaia guys had been on the wharf, then. They’d taken the rope and then stopped Mikey from making the exchange. Had they made the exchange instead? But whoever the exchange was with had killed the messenger? Was Mikey meant to have been killed that night and not the Kaitaia gang member?

  If so, who had the exchange been with?

  Or was this coincidental? Was there a third party involved? Like Big Wig?

  And what about the meth? My neck had told me that meth was wrapped up in this somehow. The Rikas? Kaitaia? Or Big Wig?

  And then there was my stalker and the courier driver who’d stolen Big Wig’s intellectual property.

  I checked my rearview mirror now, but I was surrounded by Rikas. If I were being followed at all, it would be at a distance, and I couldn’t see them through the forest of leather.

  I bit my lip, rubbed a hand over my neck, and followed Darren and the others onto Rika property.

  The bikes rolled up to the front of the old house that was the central meeting place for the Rikas. Smaller cabins and lean-tos dotted the area, as well as an old converted bus, a couple of caravans, and a four-car garage that was not a garage and probably where they packaged their pot for distribution.

  Their land was inland from Taipa at a place called Peria. Still very much part of Doubtless Bay, but covered in scrub and what Stan would call backcountry. The Eagle helicopter would have trouble picking the weed out amongst all that natural coverage. And cops needed a damn good reason to be up in these hills or else.

  My silent, white-knuckled passenger was out of the Micra’s door before I’d even switched the engine off. I chuckled to myself and then took a peek at my appearance in the mirror. I looked like I’d crawled through sheep pens and been in a gunfight in the middle of a muddy paddock.

  About right, then.

  I locked my gun away in the glove compartment and then slipped out of the car, looking around. Some of the bikers had headed farther back onto Rika land to do whatever it was they had been doing before the rescue callout, no doubt. Darren was talking to Colin and Mikey; Jordie, the other twin, had also appeared out of nowhere and a few other Rika boys were dotted about.

  I couldn’t smell any pot, which was unexpected. But I could smell apple pie.

  Nana had been baking. My stomach rumbled.

  “Get that girl inside before she keels over,” came a harpy’s cry from inside the old house.

  “Summer!” Darren barked. “Go see Nana.”

  If it hadn’t have been for the pie, I might not have made it up the steps. Nana Rika always scared the bejeebers out of me.

  The table was set for five. If you counted Nana and me, that left three brothers. And then Tia walked out of a room at the back of the house. With a squeal, she rushed over to me and wrapped me up in her arms.

  “You found him,” she whispered. “You found Mikey.”

  “Let the girl get cleaned up, Tia,” Nana chastised. “I’ll not have mud and sheep shit dragged through my house.”

  “Come on,” Tia said, beaming at me. “You can use my room. I’m sure I’ve got something that’ll fit you.”

  I looked down at my boobs and shook my head. Before this day was out, I was going to be the laugh of the party. And not in a good way.

  I took a quick shower, Tia letting me out of her clutches for that long at least, and then donned my own underwear again because let’s be realistic, I couldn’t let my Double Ds out and Tia’s unmentionables wouldn’t fit me. Thankfully, the sheep droppings and mud had stuck to my outerwear, and any skin left uncovered.

  My shoes were toast, but Tia loaned me some jandals. The jandals had yellow pineapples on the top. They matched the yellow t-shirt she loaned me which looked suspiciously like something one of her brothers would wear. I tied the extra long material in a knot under my breasts and slipped on the denim skirt Tia had managed to find.

  In the end, I didn’t embarrass myself.

  Mikey and Darren were sitting at the table with Nana when we emerged from Tia’s bedroom. Darren didn’t even look at me, too busy eating a chicken leg, but Mikey smiled when he saw the t-shirt I was wearing. I gave Tia a glare. She smirked.

  I sat down gingerly in the chair to Nana’s right, while Tia threw herself into the one on her grandmother’s left-hand side. I wasn’t too sore; the hot shower had done wonders for the ache in my shoulder from hitting the side of the shed. But being here at all, when I knew Danvers needed an update, and the Kaitaia gang would be covering up the mess on that farm, wiping any chance of gathering evidence, made me feel all kinds of wrong inside.

  The longer I delayed getting the cops involved, the worse it would be for everyone.

  Nana slapped Darren’s hand holding the half decimated chook leg and bowed her head. Everyone else did as well, as the kaumatua thanked God for supper and for returning her youngest mokopuna to them. She looked across the table at Mikey afterwards, her features softening slightly. And then the old hag turned to me.

  “Summer,” she said. “You did good, child.”

  “Thank you, Nana,” I offered.

  “You’ll stay here the night.”

  “Um,” I said, aware everyone was watching me intently. “I need to check on Sadie and pick up Doug.”

  “I’ll have Colin drive in and make sure they’re all right,” Nana said. “But the whanau needs to thank you tonight.”

  I opened my mouth, and the dragon glared at me. My teeth clacked together when my lips formed a thin line.

  “That’s settled, then,” Nana said.

  “You can sleep with me,” Tia told me.

  I sure as heck wasn’t sleeping with anyone else. I nodded.

  “Mikey needs some stitches,” Darren said, reaching for his chicken leg again and picking up where he’d left off. “I’ll get Stu to see to him.”

  “And Kaitaia?” Nana asked.

  “I’m sending a message,” Darren told her in between mouthfuls.

  “Not good enough,” Nana snapped.

  “I’m handling it,” Darren growled.

  “Son,” Nana said in her harpy voice, “you didn’t handle Mangonui to my liking, and I doubt you’ll handle Kaitaia any better.”

  “Then what do you suggest, Nan?” Darren growled.

  “End this.” She stared the eldest Rika boy down. “End this now.”

  Darren threw down his half-eaten chicken leg and swore bloody murder.

  “Is that a yes?” the kaumatua asked.

  He huffed and puffed, but in the end, he nodded his he
ad.

  “Good,” the matriarch said and started offering out apple pie.

  I took a plate, despite the tension in the air. I mean, it wasn’t a donut. But it was dessert.

  Nothing more was said about Mikey’s abduction. Or the exchange on Mangonui Wharf that didn’t transpire. And absolutely nothing was said about dead bodies or methamphetamine or pot.

  I tried drilling Tia when it was just her and me in her bedroom. But she kept mum, while the Rika brothers made noise well into the night. Not kick it up, throw a party, share a keg of beer type of noise. But the type of noise that I thought was made when a gang prepared to go to war.

  Tia never left my side.

  No one gave me my cell phone back.

  And all the while, Nana hummed to herself in the kitchen as she baked more apple pies.

  Chapter 22

  What The Devil Have Sheep Got To Do With It?

  Monday morning dawned with blue skies, bright sunshine, gnarly waves, and seventeen missed calls and twelve unanswered texts.

  I stared at my cell phone as it went through the process of logging back onto the network. Darren or some other Rika dipshit had powered it off last night. No doubt to fool Danvers. Part of me was relieved about that. What would he have thought if he’d traced the cell’s GPS to Peria?

  I wondered if he would have come in lights and sirens blazing and rescued me from the Rikas.

  I lowered the phone and stared at the try-hard surfers at Taipa. Charlie wasn’t one of them.

  I’d made it back onto State Highway 10 by eight o’clock this morning. And then I’d simply taken the nearest side road to the beach at Taipa. I was shaken. Exhausted. And, if I were honest with myself, disappointed in Tia Maria.

  She’d laughed and joked with me last night; made us popcorn and snuck in Nana’s treats so we could watch a chick flick on her TV in her bedroom. Pyjama party, she’d said. And yet, I’d been a prisoner on Rika land, and she hadn’t helped me.

  I wasn’t sure what to do about that.

  I looked back down at the cell phone and sighed.