Chapter Three
“Oh god.” Mia’s knuckles were white where she clutched the doorframe of the SUV as she stepped out onto the pavement. She’d insisted on driving after they left the rest stop and had made several attempts to drop him off, but Hudson had held firm, insisting he see her safely home. He still needed time to convince her to help him find the helicopter, and he figured a full belly, hot shower, and good night’s sleep in a real bed might ease the distaste she had for law enforcement and help her see things his way.
It had been a tense ride with the storm slowing them to a crawl. Traffic collisions dotted the roads around town and they’d had to reroute several times. Lightning strikes had taken out multiple power grids and it turned out the four-way stop procedure was far too complicated for the town of Middleworth to handle. It was the weather and the No Vacancy signs at each of the motels they passed that finally seemed to convince Mia she wasn’t going to be rid of him tonight.
Between the long hours in the vehicle, the hike before, and being bounced down the mountainside before that, Hudson felt like his muscles had been replaced with concrete. Mia had survived an extra ordeal before he even came on the scene, so he was impressed she’d even managed to extract herself from the driver’s seat.
“Holy crap,” she said, and staggered back to the passenger door. She leaned in, then rocked herself back upright. “I can’t reach. Can you undo Neville?”
He nodded, then opened the door on his side and unthreaded the seat belt from the dog’s harness. He got a full face lick in thanks, and then the dog was bounding toward the small plot of weeds that was pretending to be a lawn in front of the ramshackle house Mia had said was home. Hudson managed not to swear as he reached over the back seat to grab Neville’s panniers and Mia’s pack, but nearly knocked himself to the ground when he tried to swing them over his shoulder. He let one hang from each hand instead as he followed Mia’s stiff-legged walk to the front door.
“So wildlife biology doesn’t pay well?” he asked
“Huh? Oh, the house.” She aimed the key at the lock and had to use her other hand to support her wrist. “I move for every job and it’s hard to find places that will accept dogs. Especially once they see Neville. So I end up staying mostly in places like this. It’s fine. The neighbourhood is safe…ish.”
“And if you don’t have a vehicle that looks like it’s worth stealing.” He was starting to appreciate her logic. He moved through the door and bent just enough to let the backpacks sink to the worn kitchen linoleum beneath his feet. “Or anything else for that matter. Were you robbed?”
“Robbed? No, why?”
He gestured at the nearly empty space, and she shrugged. “No point in accumulating a lot of crap to haul from one place to the next.” Neville bounded up to the front door and carefully dragged each paw against the coarse mat placed against the doorsill. “Good boy, Nev. Let’s get you some dinner.” The dog walked over to a stand with two metal dishes and glanced back and forth between the empty dishes and Mia like there was an invisible tennis match in play.
“I got it.” A groan nearly escaped as he bent down to retrieve one of the bowls, and he pressed his lips tight. Got to keep that manly image in place. She smiled as she took it from him and filled it with dry kibble. That was, what, three smiles now?
She managed to put the dish on the stand without dropping it or falling over. Drool started to collect in a pool between Neville’s feet, but he waited until Mia gave him the go ahead and then inhaled the dish’s contents in about thirty seconds. He nosed the dish, then looked at Mia, but she shook her head. “I’m out of the wet, buddy. I’ll get you some tomorrow, I promise.” The dog padded quietly out of the room.
Mia pulled open the fridge door. “I have eggs. Omelette?”
“That sounds great. Can I help?” She didn’t look at him, just shook her head and waved him into a chair. He let his smile drop and sat gingerly at the scarred Formica table. The chair wobbled slightly underneath him but didn’t send him crashing to the ground, so he decided to take his chances.
Mia had eggs beaten and on the stove in a matter of minutes and he still hadn’t mustered the energy to start a conversation. Odd, though. It didn’t feel awkward. He’d learnt to patter, to flirt and charm, early on in life, to make himself welcome instead of a burden when he’d had to rely on others because his own parents had opted out. He’d honed his skills over the years and most of the time it didn’t feel like any sort of effort. But being here, in Mia’s shack of a home, he felt no need to try and charm her. He felt like he already knew her better than anyone he’d met over the past few years.
Except for the reason she hated cops. He had to give her credit, though—she’d managed to avoid answering his questions for the entire trip back to town.
“Here you go.”
“Damn, that looks good.” It did. The eggs were fluffy and filled with a sharp cheese, and she’d toasted multigrain bread and spread it with butter. Real butter, none of this reduced cholesterol, reduced calorie, reduced taste crap he encountered in other women’s kitchens.
His mouth watered and he dug in. His questions could wait. He loved good food, but without fail, the groups he infiltrated were filled with punks who were still so giddy with their first tastes of money and independence, that they made a point of eating junk food at every meal—just because Mommy wasn’t around to tell them they couldn’t. His own aunt was a top-rated chef back in Hull, and when he’d shown interest in the kitchen, she’d taken him under her wing and showed him not just the fundamentals of cooking, but also how to refine his palate. She’d been understanding, but disappointed, when he chose the police academy instead of the culinary institute. He’d been torn. At the beginning, faking an interest in cooking had been a strategy for ingratiating himself to his aunt, but his interest had turned real over time, and he still remembered his time in the kitchen with great fondness.
His plate was clean before Mia was even halfway through hers. She caught him looking and he gave her a solid level two—embarrassed, but a little hopeful, one dimple on display—but she narrowed her eyes and curled her arm around her plate. “Don’t even think about it. I’m not a girl who orders the side salad and only eats half. Make some more toast if you’re still hungry.”
He laughed out loud. She was totally unlike the women he ended up hanging around while he was on the job, and equally unlike the women he had short flings with when he was between gigs. He liked those women just fine, but, probably because of his skill putting on a character, he’d always sensed his dates were only showing him part of themselves. Mia obviously felt no need to try to impress him or appear to be anything other than who she was. Which made it all the more difficult to believe she’d ever done anything to put her at odds with law enforcement.
He sighed. “No toast. But we do need to talk.” He needed to get to the bottom of her distrust so he’d know how to convince her to find the drugs for him. With every minute that passed, his window was narrowing. The weather was still too bad to get a police helicopter clearance to fly, and even if there was a satellite overhead, the heavy cloud cover would prevent any useful imagery. And even thinking they may have lost him to the slide last night, Raj and Gio would still be under orders to retrieve the load. He had to beat them. And Mia was his only advantage.
She kept her eyes on her food and swallowed before she answered. “You’re right, we do.” She laid her cutlery across her plate, fork tines up and knife-edge facing inward. Same as his own. Interesting. His aunt had taught him it was the correct way to indicate you had finished your meal in a fine dining establishment. He wondered who had taught Mia.
She continued, oblivious to the tiny bit of information she’d just given away, “I need to know about your friends,”
“I wish you’d stop calling them my friends.”
“What do you want me to call them?”
He leaned back in the seat, stomach flying upward for the split second it seemed like the chair would just keep leaning under him and dump him on his head on the floor. He steadied himself and answered without bothering to cage his words. “Well, in my head, I refer to them as Dipshit and Sidekick. You’re welcome to do the same.”
She laughed. Not just a smile. A full-on, surprised-right-out-of-her laugh, that crinkled the corners of her eyes and brought his attention to the fact that her bottom lip was fuller than the top. It didn’t last long enough. Her lips straightened and she folded her hands precisely on the table in front of her. Only her green eyes seemed to keep any warmth at all. “I’m serious, though. What’s the deal? Are Dipshit and Sidekick going to be an issue?”
“How do you mean?”
“Why did they just walk away and leave you? I don’t even remember them calling out after the slide.”
This wasn’t the conversation he’d planned on having, but he couldn’t deny he was wondering the same thing himself. “To tell you the truth, I’m not sure. But listen, this isn’t what we need to talk about—”
“Of course it is. Hudson, have you considered that these men might have been trying to kill you? Maybe they figured the slide had done it for them.” She unlaced her fingers and leaned toward him over the table. Her shirt gaped open and he could see just a hint of cleavage between the edges of her bra. “Or maybe they started the slide. You were walking away from me, back up to them. What were they doing?”
She had beautiful skin, a pale cream all over, which suited the green eyes and reddish hair, but was even paler beneath the collar of her shirt. He swallowed. “What were they doing? I don’t know.” He stopped. Looked away from her, tried to get his brain functioning on all cylinders again. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.” He probed gingerly at the swelling on his forehead.
Mia got to her feet and collected their dishes. “Well, I think it’s obvious what you need to do.” She put the dishes in the sink and cocked her hip against the counter. It was a nice hip. Slim, but rounded. It was attached to a nice leg, sculpted and long, and an even nicer butt.
He dragged his attention back to the conversation. “Obvious?”
“Absolutely. You need to assume your cover has been blown. That’s what you say, right? It’s too risky to try and finish the job, so you need to get out of town, right now, then call that handler guy and go work traffic or something.”
Traffic. She thought he should put on a Smokey Bear hat and pull over speeders. No. Just…no.
He stood up, making himself focus on her eyes and not get distracted by all the…distractions below that point. “Traffic’s not really my thing, so I guess I’m going to have to see this job out. But you’re right about one thing. It really is too risky for me to wander back to the clubhouse without figuring out what’s going on. I’ll just bunk down on the couch. Unless…”
He stepped closer to her and smiled, level one, with intent. He trailed one finger down her arm and watched as her eyes darkened, the vibrant green swallowed by the widening pupils. She sucked in a breath and her breasts rose. His gaze drifted down and his flirtatious smile slipped away because he wasn’t acting anymore. He wanted her, and every Spidey sense in his body was telling her she wanted him, too.
She slapped a wet dishcloth against his chest. “You can wash up. I’m going to bed. I’ll leave a towel and blanket on the couch.”
#
Mia peeked around the doorjamb. The angle of the hallway didn’t allow her to see directly into the living room, but the silence was reassuring. She crept forward. Not only had her attempt to get Hudson out of her life failed spectacularly last night, but the cop was now sprawled over every inch of her couch, with his feet dangling over the arm and Neville, the traitor, draped over him like a shag rug.
The dog lifted his head from Hudson’s chest at Mia’s approach, but she made the “stay” hand signal and he stretched all four paws and nuzzled Hudson under the chin before dropping back into sleep. A faint smile crossed the cop’s lips at the dog’s movement and Mia froze, thinking she’d been caught, but Hudson’s lips relaxed and he didn’t stir.
He’d stripped off his shirt and socks and wore only his jeans. His tattoos were all intricate shades of grey and covered the majority of his solidly-muscled arms and the top of his chest. They should have made him look mean and intimidating, but with the massive bruise now spread across half his forehead and colouring the skin beneath his eye, and the way one hand rested on top of her dog as though ensuring he didn’t fall off, Hudson mostly seemed battered and protective. And sexy as all hell.
Which was exactly why she needed to get away from him. She refused to even think about how close she’d come to dragging him into her bed last night, and moved on silent feet to the kitchen where she put on her boots and scooped up the car keys. The SUV was running and in gear before she saw the curtain beside the door twitch, and she barely caught a glimpse of Hudson standing bare-chested and angry at the front door as she made the turn at the end of the street.
She was too early for the pet store, so she slogged through the heavy rain to the diner across the lot and ordered a lumberjack breakfast with extra bacon. Neville would think he was in heaven when she dropped it on top of his breakfast. The waitress brought back a newspaper and cup of fresh coffee to keep her going until her breakfast was ready. Mia had seen the brief reports of the storm and the missing children on her news feed, but the newspaper promised more detail and reactions of the parents. She flipped through to the correct page and promptly spit coffee all over the sheet.
She and Hudson—Neville too—were front and centre in the photo, and right beside them was the uniformed officer who’d questioned them at the scene.
Dammit. For nearly five years she’d managed to stay under the radar—exactly as instructed. Not a foot out of line, not a speeding ticket, not any contact with law enforcement—even to the point of letting jobs pass because they required a criminal record check. Yet, less than twenty-four hours after having the misfortune of meeting Hudson McClure halfway up a mountain he had no business being on, she’d not only spent the night with an undercover cop on her couch, but she was pictured with a uniformed one in the middle of the newspaper. She was completely and utterly screwed.
Her breath was coming heavy and fast. A guy in a ball cap at the counter turned to look at her, running his gaze over her like a predator sighting prey, and she clamped her jaw shut and forced her breathing to slow. Think, dammit, slow down and think! She’d prepared for this. She wasn’t screwed - she knew the day might come, so she’d made a plan and put all the pieces into place so she’d be ready. She just needed to slow down and think it through. The plan, she knew the plan backward and forward. Step one…
She blotted the worst of the coffee off the paper and refolded it, then downed what was left in her cup in one scalding swig. She met the waitress coming to the table with her plate. “I’m sorry, could I have that to go instead? And is there anything else you have ready in the kitchen?” She wasn’t so selfish that she didn’t realize having his picture in the paper wouldn’t be any better for Hudson than for her, and she’d left him at her house with only a couple of slices of bread in the freezer.
The woman put her plate on the counter and pulled out her pad. “What would you like, hon?”
Mia rubbed the skin above her left eye. “No, I just meant if you had anything ready now? I’m not picky, I just really have to go. You know what? It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Hudson would have to share hers.
The woman raised an eyebrow and nodded, then picked up Mia’s plate to box up, neatly dodging the wandering hand of the man at the counter. “Knock it off, Carl. You know the rules—I can’t stop you from looking, but you don’t get to touch.”
“Oh, sorry, do you have a phone I can use?” Mia waggled her perfectly functional cell phone. “Cell’s dead.”
The waitress opened her mouth and Mia followed her gaze to a sign stating the phone was for diner business only. Carl leered at her and waggled a battered phone. “You can borrow mine, sweet cheeks.”
The woman rolled her eyes and lifted a flap from the counter. “Come on, honey, it’s just back here.”
Mia ducked through and tucked the paper under her arm. The phone rang so long she almost gave up, but her mother’s soft voice eventually filled her ear and Mia leaned against the wall and squeezed her eyes shut.
“Mom? It’s me. Yes, Mom, I’m all right. But I need—Mom, I’m sorry, there’s no time. Do you remember that conversation we had after Dad died? It’s happening, okay? Right now. I need you to do exactly what we talked about. No! Mom! I told you, you can’t tell me where you’re going. You can’t tell anyone. Did I leave enough cash to get you there? Perfect. Go right now, Mom. I mean it. Right now. I love you, too. So much. Remember, put up a message where we talked about, okay? Now go, Mom. Please.”
She wiped her eyes and opened them to find the waitress standing in front of her with a heavily laden takeout bag and a curious but sympathetic expression. “Go on now. Take it. It’s everything I could put together for you.”
“Thank you. And the paper, too. How much?”
The woman waved her off. “If you can come back later, we’ll settle up then. If not, you just make it up to someone else when you can.”
Mia shook her head, she couldn’t accept this woman’s charity for the drama she’d brought on herself, and rooted around in her pocket for some bills.
The waitress cast a jaded eye over the parking lot out front and dropped her voice. “Do you need to go out the back door?”
Her hiccup of a laugh sounded frantic to Mia’s own ears. “No, thanks. It’s not me—” She cut herself off. “Do you know what time the pet store opens? I need food for my dog.”
The waitress patted her on the shoulder and lifted the counter. “You head straight over. That’s Martha’s shop and she’ll be setting up now.” She picked up the receiver. “I’ll call and tell her you’re on your way.”
Mia nodded and dropped a bill on the counter before heading quickly for the front door. She pushed it open, then turned back. “Thank you.”
The woman held up her hand. “Take care of yourself, honey.”
#
She flew into the kitchen on a gust from the storm outside and immediately shoved her shoulder against the door and turned the lock. Her hair was plastered to her face and neck, and her eyes were wide. “We need to go.”
He tested the strength of his chair gently, then leaned back, stretched out his legs and folded his arms over his chest. “What we need to do is talk. Have a seat.” He used his foot to push out the chair at the other end of the table.
She tossed a soggy newspaper at him and shoved the chair back into place as she went past it into the living room. Neville followed her with his tail wagging. “Has Nev been out?”
“Mia.” Surprise was warring with anger. He might be an undercover operative, but last time he’d checked, his “cop voice” was still in working order. A few words usually brought civilians into line.
“I’m out of here, Hudson. Stay or go, your choice. But mine’s already made. Did you let Neville out?” The house was small enough that the resolution in her voice was still crystal clear from down the hall, and Hudson’s annoyance ramped up a level.
He got his feet. “Yes, Nev’s been out. Mia, I need to talk to you.”
She was methodically going through her room, emptying the scant contents of her closet into a duffel bag, then opening two drawers of the vanity and dumping those in as well. She stepped toward him and he put his arm across the doorway to bar her passage. She ducked under it and continued into the bathroom.
“Mia, this is ridiculous. I’m not going away until you talk to me.”
She walked back into the room and tossed a Ziploc bag full of toiletries onto the bed. “What makes you think you have something to say that I want to hear?”
“Excuse me?” Anger was winning. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to? I have every right to detain you and ask you questions.”
She gave him a bland look and peeled down her soaked jeans. Her legs were sleek and pale, with the outlines of muscle at thigh and calf clearly defined. He dragged his eyes back up to the safety of her face.
“Do you? On what grounds? I don’t like cops, so what? Especially given that in our first meeting you left me to die, pinned under a rock halfway down a mountain.”
He winced. “Okay, that was unfortunate. But there’s obviously more going on here.”
She pulled on a pair of hiking pants and started stuffing the pockets with a variety of small items. “You don’t need to worry about that. What you do need to worry about is your picture being splashed all over today’s newspaper.”
The gears in his brain ground to a sudden halt, and all he could think was “shit”.
Mia pulled her shirt off over her head and let it fall with the sodden jeans. There was nothing remotely sexy about her functional black sports bra, but his mouth went dry nonetheless. And then his brain reminded him of the small matter of the newspaper photograph that had potentially massive ramifications. He turned his back on the half-naked woman of his dreams and hotfooted it back to the kitchen.
It was worse than she’d said. It wasn’t just the three of them at the old resort—it was quite clear they were in conversation with a cop. Dammit. If the gang had had suspicions before, this would sign his death warrant, and probably Mia’s too.
“Mia, hurry up! We need to go!”
“You think?” She hoisted her bag onto the table and tossed him a couple of shirts. “I don’t have any pants that will fit you, but those might.”
He pulled off his T-shirt and switched into the soft cotton henley. It was snug, but clean. The plaid flannel was a bit roomier and he was able to button it over the other. “Good. Thanks.”
She was bent over in the closet, and he amazed himself that he could be holding the newspaper that spelled his doom, and still want her. Obviously it had been far too long since he’d had a break between gigs.
She backed out with a waterproof jacket in one hand and a ball cap in the other. “Try these.”
His wrists were exposed and the zipper wouldn’t meet in the middle, but it was better suited than the old leather motorcycle jacket he’d been wearing yesterday.
She gave him a quick glance and then nodded. “Neville, your turn.” The dog stepped gracefully into his panniers as though he done it a million times before and then scooted over to the door, tail wagging madly, despite the howling of the wind and the crash and scrape of branches against the front of the house.
Hudson opened the fridge and then the cupboards. Nothing. His stomach made a plaintive sound. They were a few hours from his nearest safe bolthole and he was starving. Mia made a snorting noise. “There’s food in the truck. Let’s go.”
He picked up the bag and slung it over his shoulder and Mia flipped the thumb lock and pulled on the door. She stumbled back as it flew open, and Neville immediately started to bark and lunge at the two men standing in the doorway.
Hudson’s head filled with the sound of pounding waves as his blood pressure jacked up. “Bon jewer, Frenchy.” Gio pulled a gun from his waistband and pointed it at Neville. “Shut that up.”
This was the absolute worst-case scenario. Controlling the flow of information was a cardinal rule in undercover work, and here he was with no idea how much the others knew and what conclusions they’d drawn from the information. He needed to get this situation in hand immediately, or a lot more than his case was in jeopardy.
Mia yanked on Neville’s pack and bent low to say something in the dog’s ear. He subsided instantly and settled back on his haunches, but the fur between his shoulder blades stayed spiked and his attention never left the two men.
“Salut, mes amis. Is nice to see you. I wasn’t sure if the mountain got you.” Hudson laid on the sarcasm. Even if the gun meant they’d decided Remy was on the outs with the gang, he could still play it like he’d done nothing wrong.
Gio smirked. “It did a pretty good job on you.”
“’Ow you find me?”
Raj gestured with his thumb to the driveway. “We saw you at the resort. Took the plate number. A friend gave us the address. Registered to an ‘Envirocor Ltd.’”
The tightness across Hudson’s chest released a fraction and his breath came a little easier. He grunted, mind working furiously to find a way out of this. Gio hadn’t put his gun away. It was no longer trained on Neville, but his owner instead. Hudson ignored the urge to look at Mia, to see how she was holding up. Raj and Gio needed to think he was still on their side, not that he’d aligned himself with her.
He shrugged. “I am just on my way back to the ware’ouse.” Inspiration hit and his stomach unkinked. This could work, as long as Mia could pick up the thread of his logic. “I t’ink I find the answer to our problem.” He made sure to drop his H’s, the way Remy, a francophone who’d learnt English late, always had.
Raj didn’t take his eyes off Mia, who watched him in return with a sort of flat curiosity. “What problem you thinkin’ of? ’Cause our problem is that you were talking to the cops yesterday. We saw you. You tellin’ ’em what’s up on that mountain?”
Hudson shrugged and twisted his lips. “Nah. Sure, we talk. They ask if we see kid. Be more strange if we don’t talk to ’elp kid, non?”
Gio’s gaze shot back and forth between Hudson and Raj. “What’s this about kids?”
Hudson used his index finger to shove the newspaper across the table. “Those kid. You didn’t ’ear about it yesterday when you see us?”
Raj scanned the headline of the article. “Huh.”
Gio’s gun started to waver as he craned his neck to see. “But that still don’t explain her,” Gio said, and brought the gun up to point at Mia again.
Hudson drew out a sigh and rolled his head on his shoulders. “I told you. She’s the answer to our problem. She works on the mountain. She can find the ’elicopter.”
“And why would she do that?” Gio asked, looking Mia up and down, and then again. A speculative sneer settled over his features. “I think we let her out of our sight and she’s gonna go straight to the five oh.”
Hudson’s nails cut crescents into his palms. He wanted to send Gio’s eyeballs spinning into the back of his head like a slot machine. Neville’s head tilted his way, then back at Gio. A low growl came from the dog’s throat, and Hudson resisted the urge to join in.
“I can’t go to the cops.” Mia’s lip curled as she glared at Hudson and then back at Raj.
“Is that so? You have a couple parking tickets on the books?” Gio considered Mia, then lifted his eyebrows at Hudson, who kept his face bland and tilted his head back at Mia, hoping she’d read him and pick up the conversation.
“Why don’t you get your buddy to tell you? He can access the police system, right? Or could you only find someone at the insurance company?” she asked. Her words mocked them, and Hudson’s teeth ground together. He wished she’d drop the antagonism. And he hoped she knew what she was doing. He thought she’d give them some story about being on the run from an abusive ex or something. He hadn’t expected her to play a criminal.
Gio jerked the gun up, but Raj shook his head and leaned against the door. “I think that’s a great idea. Let’s see what the cops have to say about you. What’s your name?”
“Raina Meadows.”
“And what’s your birthday, Raina Meadows?”
Mia’s eyes flicked to Hudson and her fingers turned white where they were clutched over the top of a chair. His gut clenched. If she couldn’t provide a date of birth that matched the name she’d just given the cops, she may have just painted herself into a corner.
She faced Raj again and lifted her chin. “I don’t have a birthday. I was found under a bridge and some billy goats paid my parents to take me home.”
Raj’s lips twitched, but he kept his gaze pinned to hers. There was a moment of frozen silence, and then Mia spoke again. “May 26, 1988.”
At Raj’s nod, Gio handed him the gun, then pulled a phone out of his pocket and started for the living room. Neville’s growl rose in volume as the man approached, and Gio jumped before he could stop himself. He made a show of frowning intensely at his phone while he retreated, then walked the long way around the kitchen table.
Hudson replayed Mia’s reply in his head. She’d given the name smoothly, even if it had taken her a moment to come up with a birthdate. Like she’d used it before. Been that person before. Was this what she’d been hiding?
Gio was back in less than a minute, eyeing Mia with a new curiosity. “She ain’t lying. She a ‘Person of Interest.’” He made quotes with his fingers. “File’s locked, so he couldn’t say more than that.”
Raj’s heavy eyebrows peaked and he nodded slowly.
Gio swept his eyes up and down Mia again, then licked his lips. “So now you gotta worry about all three of us turnin’ on you, girl. What you gonna do for us?”
“I’m going to hold on to my dog so he doesn’t rip your throat out. That sound good to you?” She adjusted her grip on Neville’s collar and he rose up on his hind legs and started to bark like he’d just had new batteries put in.
Gio bumped into Raj and the two of them pressed against the door. “Yeah, that’s cool. That’s cool,” Raj mumbled.
Mia hushed Neville and jerked her head at Hudson. “My deal’s with him. I find your helicopter and I walk. You never mention my name again.”
Raj gave Hudson a long look and inclined his head as he smiled slightly. Hudson lifted his hand and gestured as though he was offering Mia as a prize on some game show. She’d played it perfectly, making it sound like Hudson had already made it crystal clear to her that she was going to be helping them find the helicopter. Exactly what he wanted them to believe.
Raj waved the gun around. “Let’s go, then.”
Hudson saw the sudden quirk of her eyebrow and her gaze started to swing to him and then stopped. “Go where? You’re not seriously planning to go back to the mountains today?” she asked.
Gio cocked the gun and Hudson had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Idiot.
“Put the gun away, Gio.” Raj picked up the newspaper and waved it at Mia. “As you pointed out, there are children missing on the mountain. As soon as the weather breaks, they’re going to send up crews and choppers to find them. The weatherman says the next twenty-four hours are going to be hell. That’s how long you have to find our helicopter and get the…” He checked himself, then continued, “…contents off the mountain. Now get your asses out to the truck.” He smiled. “We’ll take yours. Wouldn’t want to get my ride covered in dog hair.
Hudson’s gut dropped. Without Mia’s truck parked outside, no one would even realize they were missing. The landlord would assume she was just another deadbeat renter, pocket her damage deposit, and not even give it a second thought.
The wind ripped the door out of Gio’s hand and slammed it into the wall. A crack appeared in the pane of glass at the top, and Gio sneered when Mia put her finger up to it. “Hurry up, girl. Not like a cracked window is your biggest problem.”
Mia walked out the door with Neville pressed tight beside her. Hudson flipped the duffel onto his shoulder and let it slam into Gio’s head as he joined Mia out in the storm.