by Stacia Leigh
Didn’t she matter to him at all?
Miki’s heart clenched.
And what about Will? She was ready to tear her clothes off for that guy, yet he couldn’t get away from her fast enough. In the dark, everything’s great. Yes, yes it was. When she’d had her hands on his back, she could feel his warmth. Smooth, soft skin on one side, rough and scuffed up on the other. He could have killed himself laying his bike down like that with no helmet.
Idiot.
With at least another hour to go, she needed to think about something more uplifting, something other than Will smeared across a two-lane highway. She studied the width of Will’s shoulders as she glided around yet another bend in the road, and a smile tugged at her lips. How about that time last year at the Hides of Hell Family Picnic? Oh, yes. It had been a hot one.
A Bikini Summer
Ninety-one degrees slow-cooked Miki’s skin like the crock pot of baked beans that no longer existed. There wasn’t a thing left unturned on the red-and-white checkered picnic tables after the hungry bikers threw in the flag on flag football. After hours of rough play, they devoured mountains of baked beans with pork belly, potato salad with dill, bratwursts with yellow mustard, entire bags of salty chips, and whole watermelons. They stuffed and chewed all the way down the line only to freeze with their hands in the air in front of Cindy’s All American apple pies. Will’s mom was club-famous for them—tart, sweet, and with the perfect crust every time.
One rule surrounded the pies and was strictly enforced by muscle: Will’s dad, Bill, got the first slice. Always. Or blood would flow. The guys panted and waited with shifty eyes while Bill calmly cut himself a civilized wedge, then stepped out of the fray to watch the crumbs fly. Later, the guys dropped like walruses on the beach while the poor women cleaned up the unholy mess, and the kids scattered like birdshot.
Since Miki didn’t want to be on kitchen patrol, she firmly agreed to be in the kid category and picked her way around the dotted bodies on the beach in her new, shimmery bikini. Her long, black hair brushed against her back—swish, swish. She scanned the ice cream counter at the Lemon Squeeze Snack Shack, the oiled up sunbathers on beach towels, and the little bobber-heads in the swimming area, until…
Target located. Will Sullivan had the floating dock all to himself.
Will usually lazed around like a moody grump, like everyone was wasting his time, but she knew better. Even though they didn’t go to the same school, they hung out plenty at the club family functions. She liked what she knew and knew what she liked. Will, Will, and more Will. And…if she could guess? He liked her, too. More than once she’d caught his melty-licious brown eyes following her.
So if he thought she would give up on him because he was peeved, he’d be very wrong. She’d knock him out of his shell before the summer was over, and he’d know exactly what hit him. Yep…that’s right, Miki “Hot Bod” Holtz.
Now if she could only get the nickname to stick.
Miki waded ankle deep into the warm lake, then knee to thigh deep and dove under. She torpedoed through the blue water with ease while she sculpted a plan of attack, one that ended with Will’s undivided attention. She bubbled to the surface like the Swamp Thing, her seaweed hair plastered to her skin. A thick, faded rope hung off the platform, and she gripped it, raking the tangles out of her eyes. Trip sped by in a white boat, towing Owen behind on a wakeboard. Owen jumped over a swell, tilted the board to spray a rooster tail toward the dock, and missed. Not even close. Then the two roared off across the lake in search of another victim.
The water lapped and sloshed against the platform, rocking it like a baby’s cradle. She quietly pulled herself up to peek at Will, a long-limbed starfish spread out in the sun. He wore cheap black shades and had a forest green survival bracelet clipped to his wrist. Everyone had one; it was all the rage. Hers was black and boring, but his matched his swimming trunks. It was hot…and so was he.
Miki sank back into the water and scanned the beach. It was far enough away so nobody would see anything, and Owen was merely a speck on the other side of the lake. The coast was clear.
She held onto the side of the dock with one hand and groped behind her back with the other, unhooking the clasp on her bikini. The fabric fell loose in front of her, and she tingled with wild liberation. Biting her lip to keep from giggling out loud, she glided around the dock’s corner with her turquoise top trailing after her. Will’s damp hair hung over the edge, so she drew in a long, silent breath and slapped her wet top on his face. She plunged under the surface with long, powerful strokes and then breached the water about ten yards out. Slicking wet hair off her forehead, she laughed up at the sky. Nudity, sun, and Will. This was the life!
“Miki!” Will bellowed, poised on the corner of his island. He shook his fist. “I should’ve known it was you. Why don’t you leave me alone?”
Not a chance. She saw progress with him, and there was no way in hell she was letting a little joke, a misunderstanding, throw a wrench in it. She’d apologized all over the place yesterday, and he needed to get over it. Pronto.
Commence Project Will. She slapped the water with the flat of her hands.
“Help! Help me, Will,” she yelped with glee as she flailed and splashed. “I lost my swimsuit.” She bicycled her legs in the water with her bare shoulders bobbing, relishing Will’s slackened jaw. He slowly un-bunched the fabric and held up two triangles. Now, didn’t that look say apology accepted?
“Oh, you found it.” Miki giggled. “Well, don’t just stand there, big boy. Help a girl out.”
Will’s grouchy face broke into a broad grin, just as she’d planned. Could she call ‘em or what? She’d have him eating out of the palm of her hand before this club picnic was over.
But the script she’d written in her mind involved him laughing at her wild-child antics and tossing the top back to her, like a gentleman, or possibly even swimming over with it. Instead, he dropped the turquoise swatch at his feet and peeled off his sunglasses. They clattered across the sun-dried wood. Then he sprang off the corner, curling into a cannonball.
“Yeehaw!” He hit the water like a giant boulder, sending a wave in her direction. It smacked her in the face and shot up her nose.
She sputtered and wiped her eyes just as the familiar blub-blub blubbing of an idling boat poked her consciousness. Uh, oh. Red flag alert. It was Owen and Trip.
Plan gone awry.
“Will, no!” Miki shouted at the sparkling ripples while she frantically searched the deep-blue that surrounded her.
There was no Will…anywhere. She dove under and paddled farther away from the dock, hoping to circle back and nab her suit before her brother, Will, or anyone else caught her. Great plan, except a hand gripped her ankle and gave it a tug before she broke the surface. Miki kicked her foot free and swam upward to catch a breather, coughing on a mouthful of lake water.
Will popped up two arm-lengths away and laughed, an infectious sound really, if only she had the time to fully appreciate it. Why did Owen have to come around and ruin this?
“Now what are you going to do?” Will wagged his brows and smirked, like he was pretty sure he had her. If only.
Miki gritted her teeth and with one finger made a cease-and-desist slicing motion across her throat. Will inched closer, but he cocked his head and frowned.
“Will!” She shook her head quickly. “My brother is—”
“Miki!” Owen barked from the boat. He peeled off his fluorescent-yellow life vest and propped his foot up on the rail. “What the hell? Are you skinny dipping?”
Trip raised his eyebrows as he cut the engine and let the boat drift toward them. He had bulky muscles covered in intricate, Day of the Dead tattoos: red roses, blue script, and black skulls. He was one of Miki’s favorite guys since he was sweet, kind, and a little mysterious with being an orphan, a high school drop-out, and an amputee. The most amazing thing about him was he kept quiet, whereas Owen had a ginormous mouth.
Will
treaded water as the boat eased closer, but his contagious grin hardened into a dark scowl. The walls of his personal tower erupted around him, and Miki watched as he turned back into a moody grump.
“Here.” Owen tossed his life vest overboard, and Miki grabbed it, holding it close to her chest. Apparently, wakeboarding was over and now, so was fooling around with Will.
“You having fun, Little Willy, harassing my sister?” Water dripped off Owen’s nose and made plipping noises beside her. “I’d kick your ass, but I’m done playing in the water.”
Trip puffed out a tired sigh but kept his eyes front and center behind the steering wheel.
“Dude…” Will curled his lip. “I’d like to see you try.”
“Duly noted, you punk.” Owen glared back and slowly cracked his knuckles. “I’d love to give you another bloody nose. Give me a reason, and it doesn’t have to be a good one.”
Will cast her a wary look. “It’s always trouble with you,” he muttered before dipping underwater.
“Will…” Miki pleaded at the ripples he left behind. Her heart turned into a lead weight, and she sank against the life vest.
“Miki, what are you doing?” Owen growled down at her, his eyes as dark as night. “This is a family picnic. There are little kids running around, and you’re not impressing anybody.”
“I dunno. I’m impressed,” Trip muttered with a shrug and wisely averted his gaze to the bow.
“Shut up, Prospect,” Owen said as he watched Will heave himself out of the lake and onto the platform. “Hey!” Owen hollered. “Toss her swimsuit over, asswipe!”
Miki churned the water with her legs while trying to ignore Owen. He was seriously killing her buzz. What would Will have done once he caught her? Goose bumps sprang up her arms, and she shivered under the ninety-degree sun rays. So close. She almost had him, but Owen always seemed to be minding her business. He was only five years older, not twenty-five. He wasn’t her dad…thank God.
She gulped as Will bent down and scooped up her bikini top, his swimming trunks riding tight over his butt. He was so fine she almost fainted.
“Here, Miki.” Will dropped it into the water right at his feet.
Now why did he have to go and be like that? It wasn’t her fault she had a jackass for a brother. She and Will had made a little progress with some eyebrow ogling and a couple laughs. Now it seemed they were back to square one.
Will jerked his chin up at Owen and tapped it with his middle finger. Then he arced off the side as sleek as a dolphin and performed a perfect crawl stroke back to shore.
“Get your suit, Mik, and let’s get out of here,” Owen said and slid a pair of mirror shades onto his slender nose.
“I came with Dad.” Miki flashed him a smile, clutching the neon vest closer. Sorry, sucker, but she had her own plans.
“Unfortunately, you’re with us. Dad left with the Lemon Squeeze lady an hour ago.”
“Why would he leave with her?” That girl wasn’t a day older than Owen. What was she, twenty-one? Twenty-two? Miki glanced back at the beach to the brick and mortar snack shack, a place that served up an array of ice cream flavors from black licorice, her personal favorite, to white chocolate, which happened to be Will’s.
Trip raised a sleek brow and gave her a mocking look as in You’re a big girl. You do the math.
“Listen, Mik,” Owen pulled his foot into the boat and glanced across the water. After a moment, he looked back down at her and rested his hands on his hips. “This divorce, it’s really gonna happen, alright? Dad’s already checked out.”
Yeah. Good, ol’ Dad, living the bachelor life at the clubhouse in one of the spare rooms, same as Owen. Now, Dad could chase anything that wiggled, an old man picking up young chicks. Just gross.
That day was supposed to mark the start of an awesome summer, but it had foundered at the bottom of the lake, sort of like her turquoise bikini top. Not because her brother caught her topless and chased off her crush, not because her dad flaunted his sex life like a horny high school quarterback, and not because her mom stoked fires in the backyard using Dad’s lucky bandana collection.
No. It had been the worst summer ever because Will’s mom left the picnic that evening with a carload of dirty crock pots and empty pie tins. While driving she’d tapped out a text message, and before she could hit send, she’d wrapped her Honda Civic around an oncoming truck in her lane, four miles from home. She died of blunt force trauma to the head and a punctured stomach. Later, Cindy’s phone was recovered, and so was the text intended for Will.
MOM: I saved you a slice.
Worst summer ever.
CHAPTER 9: Big V
You don’t try hard enough.
Will’s heart raced, and he blinked up at the tent. So weird. He stuck his pinkie in his ear and twisted it back and forth. It tickled inside like his mom was right here next to him, whispering.
Boom-boom-boom-boom.
A motorcycle pulled into the campsite, and if he could guess by the boom-boom, it was Leo. His chopper had Big Growl, double-barrel pipes, which sounded cool as hell. Leo the Lion took the “Loud and Proud” badge he wore very seriously.
Unfortunately, even the rattling beast on the other side of the tent wall couldn’t drive out those questions bouncing around in Will’s head. He’d done a lot of thinking and worrying last night. Where the hell were Dad and Liam? Why wouldn’t anyone give him a straight answer? “Club business” wasn’t going to cut it anymore.
Leo had some ’splainin’ to do.
Will nudged the sleeping bag open, a stinky old thing reeking of onions and gas, a clubhouse special, and unzipped the flap. It felt like eight or so in the morning, and Caboose was still snoring like a locomotive somewhere nearby. Good. Everyone was sleeping, the perfect time to put the screws to the ol’ prez wannabe. Will stepped out shirtless, wearing only his Ghetto Gramps and waited for Leo to kick off.
Only Leo wasn’t alone.
An Amazon woman who was round top to bottom from her high cheek bones to her big toes peeping out her sandals—not to mention everything in between—eased off behind Leo. She wore tight denim jeans with strategic rips in the thighs and a billowing white shirt. The scooped neckline was low enough to show off a whole lot of cleavage. Not too shabby.
She smiled at Will, and suddenly he wished he’d put his wrinkled t-shirt back on. What if looking at his crusty scabs or the new pink skin made her want to throw up a little? Things were drying and healing, which was good, but what if something fluttered off? Talk about sick, wrong, and just freakin’ gross.
But he couldn’t miss this opportunity to corner the boss.
“Hey, Leo.” Will covered himself by cupping his opposite shoulder with his good arm while his casted limb hung like a plumb weight.
“Father-daughter trip, huh? Who’s this?” Miki stepped out of her tent, looking dark and rumpled with a bad case of blue bed-head. She wore an oversized t-shirt long enough to cover her butt but not her knees. Tan legs, flip-flops, candy-coated toenails. Yeah, he noticed. It didn’t take away from the fact she was stealing his air time, though.
“Come here, babe,” said the newly showered-and-shaved Leo, but he wasn’t calling to his daughter. He held his arm out to the tall blonde, and she stepped forward, wearing a glossy smile meant to warm the planet. “Valentina, I want you to meet my kid, Miki, and this beat-up one here is Bill’s son, Shorty’s nephew…and probably someone’s cousin, William the third.”
“It’s just Will,” Miki grumbled, all tight-lipped and stern, looking an awful lot like her brother, the geyser. Scary.
“Hi, Just Will. You can call me Just Val.” She laughed easily, like not much was going to ruffle her feathers, especially not her biker boyfriend’s snotty kid. She made duck-lips at Leo, who made duck-lips back.
What the…? Will gave a sideways look at Miki and raised his brows.
She glared back at him. “Is that what you meant by ‘trying too hard,’ Will?” She turned on her flip-f
lopped heels and stomped to the road, heading for the bathrooms.
Will opened his mouth, then closed it again. Part of him wanted to follow her, vacate this suddenly awkward, adult love-fest, but a bigger part of him needed a word. “Leo, we have to talk. Like, why haven’t I heard from my dad?”
Leo studied him for a moment, then nuzzled Val’s ear. “Babe, why don’t you go find Miki. Get to know her better.”
Wrinkling her nose like a rabbit, she whispered, “I got this,” and stepped out of Leo’s embrace to strut her stuff in Miki’s wake. Will shook his head. Nothing good would come of it.
“Sit down, Will.” Leo gestured to the weathered bench at the picnic table. He kicked his boot onto the opposite side and rested an elbow on his knee. His black leather vest hung open and Lucky You cologne misted the air directly under Will’s nostrils.
Damn, dude.
“We’ve got problems.” Leo rubbed his bottom lip.
“We all do, so tell me. What’s up with Dad and Liam?” Spit it out. Will picked at the edges of his cast. He wasn’t here for the small talk, dude.
“I’m gonna give it to you straight. Your dad and your brother…they went off the grid days ago, and we don’t know where they are. We have reason to believe the P-skulls are in retaliation mode, and Bill and Liam were targeted.”
“Targeted? How? As in kidnapped?”
“There’s a shit-storm brewing,” Leo said with his dark eyes trained on Will’s face.
“What do you mean? They’re alive, right Leo?” Oh, God. How would Leo know? The dude was half checked out with Big Val while Will sat here, probably a complete stray, his entire family dead. Dead! “But you don’t really know.” Will cleared his throat. “Do you?”
“I do, and we’re going to get them back safe and sound. You’ll see.”
Leo’s confidence was amazing. No wonder he grabbed the president’s chair when Dad went numb. Leo was an emotionally vacant, heartless prick who was more than ready to take over while telling everyone Cindy died, but we didn’t…remember her, honor her…blah, blah, blah…let’s live on for Cindy. Now pass me a beer!
