“But Chief Washington said—”
“Chief Washington said his initial investigation was cursory at best.”
Bill and the rest of the Knights claimed Mac had Spidey sense. He wasn’t sure about that. But something inside him, something chilling, snaked up his spine, filling his brain with an icy blast of foreboding. And then he knew…
“Jeremy Buchanan,” he muttered, the hairs on his arms standing straight as if in warning of another lightning strike. But the angry sky remained gray and unlit by electricity.
“Bingo.” Delilah’s green eyes were circled by mascara, but it did nothing to camouflage the fear in them. “And he knows where they’re headed…”
“Give me your phone,” Mac demanded, holding out his wide palm.
“Wh-what?” Delilah sputtered, looking down at his hand in confusion. “Didn’t you just hear me say—”
“I heard you.” The vein in Mac’s temple pulsed, and his blue eyes glinted like the vodka bottles she kept on the third shelf back at her bar. The wind whipped his dark hair around his head. “Which is why I need your phone to call Bill. Mine’s dead.”
“Oh!” She dug into her purse. Now, where’s my damned phone when I…aha!
She’d barely pulled her iPhone past her purse’s top zipper before Mac snatched it out of her hand, thumbing it on and punching in a series of numbers with a rough finger. He held the device to his ear while she held her breath and waited. A second slid by, then another and another until Mac cursed, bellowing into the receiver, “Goddamnit, Will Bill! I hope you check your messages, because Jeremy Buchanan is mixed up in that mess with Eve’s father and ex-husband, and he knows you’re heading to Ludington. Call me!”
He jabbed a finger onto her phone’s power button before handing it back at her. She curled her fingers around the device, holding it against her pounding chest, searching his impenetrable expression. “That’s it?” she demanded. “We just sit here and hope he gets that message? What if he lost his phone? Or what if he—”
“Be quiet for a second,” Mac said, his voice barely discernible above another boom of thunder. “I need to think.”
“Well, think faster!” yelled.
He scowled at her. She scowled back. She hadn’t gone through all this, through the hell of yesterday and last night and this morning, just so he could leave a freakin’ message!
“The Coast Guard!” he snapped his fingers. “They can relay a communique to Bill via the sailboat’s VHF radio.” He turned to open the huge metal door with Delilah hot on his heels. He quickly swung back around, and she skidded to a stop, her Converse sneakers squeaking on the slate ground-covering.
“Don’t you even think about leaving me out of this,” she said, lifting her chin. “I’m in it. I’ve been in it. I have the right to see it through.”
He stepped up close to her, his voice a low rumble. “Okay,” he said, and the victorious smile that started to curl her lips turned down at the corners when he continued, “But before you set foot in this building, you need to understand something. You can’t breathe a word about what you see inside.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Not one word. Not to anybody. Or you could land all of us in hot water.” The expression in his eyes was wary and worried…and perhaps a little bit beseeching. “Do you understand me?”
Her lungs froze in an instant, as did her heart. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what are they doing in there?
“Do you understand me?” he asked again, reaching up to grasp her bicep and give her a little shake. “I have to know I can trust you. There’s more at stake here than you realize.”
She swallowed, nodding jerkily. He searched her eyes for a second longer before turning to throw open the door. Following him inside, she quickly glanced around, expecting to see…she didn’t know what, especially not after that speech he’d just given her. But to her utter relief and astonishment, the place looked rather ordinary. Rather like she’d expect a custom motorcycle shop to look. The exposed brick wall lining the right side of long hall he led her down was covered with old motorcycle license plates. And when they pushed out into the main body of the shop, she saw all the usual equipment. Bike lifts. Power tools. Blow torches. A big, precision water saw. The place smelled like burned coffee, hot metal, and old oil. It smelled just as she’d imagined it would smell and—
“This way,” Mac motioned, turning to clomp up a set of metal stairs. She followed him, the sound of their footfalls on the treads echoing around the huge space, bouncing against the brick walls painted with massive, colorful caricatures of all the Black Knights. Yup. Nothing out of the ordinary there either. Bikers loved nothing better than to immortalize themselves in murals or in their own tattoos. Then she topped the last riser…
Uh…okay.
Because the lower floor might’ve looked like your typical custom chopper shop, but this second floor? Well, this second floor looked like what she imagined NORAD must look like. Stacked two-high against the far wall was a bank of massive computer screens, all blinking and buzzing, showing satellite images and real-time feeds from places that had to be on the other side of the globe. And sitting in front of that bank of computers, iPod earbuds shoved in his ears, head bobbing to whatever music he was listening to while tossing a pencil in the air, was Ace. The guy she’d been led to believe was the Black Knights’ resident wiring expert. She immediately adjusted her thinking on that score. Especially when he turned and his jaw slung open like there was a two hundred-pound weight attached to his bottom teeth. He yanked the earbuds from his ears. “Delilah? Wh-what the hell are you doing here?”
She swallowed, shaking her head because she just couldn’t take it all in. “M-me?” she finally sputtered. “The better question is what the hell are you guys doing here? What is this place?” She was starting to get the feeling she’d been a lot closer than she ever could’ve imagined with her earlier comparison to Area 51.
“No time for explanations,” Mac cut in, stomping over to Ace. “We need to find the number for our contact in the Coast Guard.”
“Why?” Ace asked him, though his astonished expression was still glued to Delilah’s face.
As Bill filled him in, Delilah made sure she kept her eyes focused straight ahead. Not that the urge to look around wasn’t intense, mind you. It was really, really intense. But if she wasn’t mistaken, this place looked suspiciously like a secret government installation. And those unlucky civilians who stumbled upon secret government installations usually found themselves six feet under, didn’t they? Well, they did in the movies—which was her only point of reference since she’d never seen the likes of anything like this in real life—so, yup, she’d just go with what she knew and focus on seeing as little as possible.
Holy shit. Holy, holy, holy shit!
A chill that had nothing to do with her wet clothes or the cool air of the warehouse slipped up her spine. With half an ear, she listened while Ace contacted the Coast Guard. With the other half, she concentrated on the pulsing sound of all her blood rushing to her head. She couldn’t believe it. The Black Knights are some kind of—
“He says he can’t raise the ship.” Ace turned away from the computers, lowering his cell phone from his ear.
Delilah watched as the two men exchanged a look. “Call Washington,” Mac instructed. “Let him know the situation. Tell him to alert the Ludington police.” Then, Mac said four words she never thought she’d hear outside an AMC movie theater. “And get the chopper…”