Ghost Dance (Tulsa Thunderbirds Book 3) Read Online Free Page A

Sergei is coming—” At that very moment, I caught sight of Sergei following a group of the other sledge players out of the locker room.
    He glanced back and caught my eye, waving. “We’re having dinner,” he said in Russian. “I’ll come by your place later.”
    Well, there went my ready excuse.
    “Looks like he’s got other plans,” London said dryly. “Come on.” Then she wheeled herself around and headed for the exit.
    “Don’t you have plans with your family?” I demanded. Even though I was racking my brain for an excuse, my feet were moving along behind her.
    Then I remembered she’d said she would drive, and I really didn’t want to go.
    My trepidation wasn’t because she was in a wheelchair. I knew better than most just how many modifications could be made for accessibility. I just didn’t want to get trapped somewhere with her and not have a way to get out of it.
    “I see them all the time,” she said, picking up speed once we were in the concourse. “They live five miles or so away from me, so I can hang out with them any time I want, and with the holidays right around the corner, I’ll be sick to death of them before too long. It was a fun day for my nieces and nephews, but they’re going home now. The older kids have homework to get done this weekend. So…I’m all yours for the rest of the day, and it looks like your plans got changed.”
    This was not what I wanted. Not at all.
    She’d parked her gray Chevy sedan in the handicapped spaces up front. When she angled her chair inside the open door, I almost asked if she needed help before stopping myself with memories of Sergei’s early days learning to walk with a prosthetic flashing through my mind.
    She locked the wheels and easily lifted herself over into the driver’s seat. “I need a minute to get my chair in the back, but then you can get in,” she said, already halfway through the process before my brain had caught up. In no time, she had the wheelchair disassembled and stowed behind her. “There,” she said, grinning at me. “All set for you.” She pushed a few buttons, and the passenger seat slid backward so there was room for me and my long legs.
    What the hell was I getting myself into? I didn’t know, but I still climbed in.
    “So tell me,” London said, backing out of her parking spot. There was a pole next to her steering wheel that she used to brake and accelerate with nothing but her hands. She looked both ways before turning into the lane.
    “Tell you what?”
    “What are you trying to hide with that beard?”
    She certainly didn’t mess around, did she?

 

     
     

    THE QUESTION WAS barely out of my mouth, and he was already flinching.
    Guess I’d hit a sore spot.
    “Just like having beard,” he said after a quick recovery.
    Straight to defensiveness. Not surprising. I took a right turn to get to the closest Starbucks and thought through a different tack. “I’ve seen pictures from before,” I said cautiously, easing into things. “You used to have such a baby face. I bet you still do, but no one can tell with all that hiding your smile.”
    “No smile to hide.”
    Indeed. “Why don’t you smile?”
    “Why you ask so many questions?” Then he muttered something in Russian beneath his breath.
    “No fair speaking in other languages. If you can’t say it to my face, then don’t say it.”
    “Said fuck me, you’re shit disturber off ice, too.”
    I burst out laughing as we arrived at Starbucks. Once I’d parked, I turned to find him glowering at me. I tried to put on a straight face, but it was no use, so I shook my head. “I think I like you, Nazarenko. Don’t ask me why, because I couldn’t tell you. But I like you.”
    He climbed out and slammed his door before stalking off to pace on the sidewalk.
    I quickly transferred my chair out of the car and reassembled it on the ground. In no time, I was ready to go in, but he still looked ready to bite my head off.
    “Does caffeine improve