Black Knights Inc. Headquarters
One week after Samantha had canceled her lunch date with Ozzie, she stood in front of the huge steel doors to the old menthol cigarette factory and warehouse the Knights had converted into their custom bike shop. Lifting her finger to ring the buzzer, she noticed its tremor.
What the hell am I doing here?
Oh right. She was here because Becky had called, asking her to stop by. The blond-haired motorcycle mechanic had said she had something for Samantha. But Samantha couldn’t help but wonder if Ozzie was behind this.
She’d canceled on him twice. She hadn’t been able to bear the thought of being with him without being with him. But now it was time to come clean. Her plan to friendly fade him wasn’t working, and she couldn’t continue to blow him off.
Pride be damned, she needed to tell him the truth. Tell him she loved him to the moon and back. At which point, she’d sit back and nurse her broken heart while he pulled away.
She glanced over her shoulder through the big wrought-iron gates at Toran. He was one of the Connelly brothers, the four burly Chicago-born Irishmen who worked guard duty for BKI. She’d come to know all four brothers over the years while trying to get the dirt on the Knights, but Toran was her favorite. He had always withstood her nosy questions with a bit of humor. Currently, he was standing in the door to the gatehouse giving her a thumbs-up.
“Go on!” he yelled in his thick Chicago accent. “Give ’em a ring! They’ll let ya right in!”
She waved her thanks before turning back to the buzzer. For so long, she’d been trying to get into the BKI compound. Now she was being let in at will, and she couldn’t even make herself press the damned buzzer.
You’ve never been a coward, Sammie. Now’s not the time to start.
Right? Right. Squaring her shoulders, she pressed the button. An angry whir sounded inside. After a series of clicks and beeps and one mighty clang, the huge metal door swung open with a whispered groan.
They take their security seriously here, she thought. Then again, they were all former special operators or spies or whatever. Security was probably second nature to them. Plus, they had hundreds of thousands, maybe even millions of dollars’ worth of equipment and custom bikes inside, and this wasn’t exactly the greatest neighborhood.
As the door swung wide, Samantha girded herself to see Ozzie. Maybe she was even hoping to see him. That was the only explanation for why her heart plummeted when she realized it was Becky waiting to meet her. “Oh, it’s you,” Samantha said.
“Try not to bowl me over with your enthusiastic greeting.” Becky frowned around a lollipop stick.
“Sorry.” Samantha shook her head. “I just thought that maybe Ozzie—”
“He’s not here,” Becky interrupted. “He’s taken Violet out for a test ride. She’s finally road worthy again.” The look Becky gave her could not be mistaken. It was the facial equivalent of No thanks to you.
“I really am so sorry about—”
“Never mind that.” Becky waved her off. “Come in.”
Samantha hoisted her purse higher on her shoulder and followed Becky into the warehouse and down a hall decorated with hundreds of rusting antique motorcycle license plates. Upon entering the shop, she blinked when Becky motioned her toward the metal staircase leading to the second floor. “I thought you said you have something to give me.” She glanced around nervously.
The place looked just as she remembered. Bike lifts, rolling tool chests, a row of gleaming motorcycles in fantastical colors. It smelled the same too. Like motor oil, hot metal, and strong coffee. All of it reminded Samantha of Ozzie. Of him over by that far bike lift, telling her it was no big deal that he’d obliterated his motorcycle in the name of saving her hide. Of him at his computer, hacking away to help her solve the mystery of the connection between the weapons and the Basilisks and the Black Apostles. Of him in the kitchen, kissing her with such passion that she knew no man would ever match it and—
“Hello?” Becky snapped fingers in front of Samantha’s face. “Earth to Samantha.”
“Sorry.” She shook her head. “I sort of zoned out for a second. What did you say?”
“I said”—Becky frowned at her, sounding exasperated—“that what I have to give you is upstairs. Follow me.”
Reluctantly, Samantha did. But something felt off. Portentous might be a better word. And when she topped the stairs and saw Delilah, Emily, and Christian all seated around the conference table, her alarm grew. “Gang’s all here, I see.”
“Not even close,” Becky assured her, taking a seat near the head of the table. “We’re missing more than—”
“I was making a joke,” Samantha interjected.
“Yeesh. Fell kind of flat.” This from Delilah. As always, trusty Fido sat by her side. She stroked the Lab’s big yellow head.
Samantha’s eyelid twitched like crazy. What the hell is going on here? Then, in a flash, she thought she knew. She’d been dodging Ozzie. No doubt they all realized that. And they probably thought—
“Look,” she said. “If you guys are worried I’ll go back on my word not to write a story about your past lives, then let me assure you, I’m a woman who keeps her promises.”
“Good to know.” Delilah motioned toward the chair at the head of the table. “Now, have a seat.”
