With my chin on my chest, I resign myself to my fate as the bedroom door is kicked off its hinges. They’re here much quicker than I expected, but it doesn’t matter. I’d rather get it over and done with, than linger with the spectre of defeat hanging over me.
“Boss,” Stu says urgently. “We’ve got to get you both out of here.”
“She’s gone,” I reply. “It’s just me.”
Confusion colours his expression, until he gets himself in check.
“Okay, fill me in later.” He beckons me to follow him. “Let’s go. They’re about to enter the premises.”
Lifting my arm, I show him the handcuff. He curses, then takes hold of the bed frame and yanks until the wooden side piece pulls away from the decorative iron bed head. I stand awkwardly, hopping on one leg while we feed the handcuff around the loops and whirls until it comes free at an edge that was previously embedded in the wooden upright.
“Thank, God,” I mutter. “I thought it was over.”
He gives me a funny look, then assesses my current state. I’m naked as the day I was born with a hole in my right leg.
“It still might be,” he tells me with grim honesty. “Can you walk?”
I snatch my jeans from the floor and try to jam my leg in them. When it doesn’t work, Stu pulls them away from me, and tosses me over his shoulder. I try not to think about my junk being so close to his face as he hightails it out of the house. He uses the door I entered through this afternoon as an exit, keeping to the shadows as he carries me deeper into the back yard toward the padlocked gate.
There are voices in the alleyway that runs down two sides of the yard. They’re closer to the front of the house which means our exit isn’t blocked yet. Stu stops, and puts me on the ground next to him.
“They haven’t surrounded the boundary,” he says. I can’t see his face in the dark, however his concern can be clearly heard. “Something’s distracted them.”
Screwing up my face, I grind my teeth and ball my hands into fists. “Yeah, a little someone called Lainey.”
He pats my shoulder in a pathetic attempt at sympathy. “Don’t worry, boss. We’ll get her back.”
I don’t answer him. I’m not so sure we can. I blew this opportunity. I allowed her to escape me again—this time on her own two feet instead of in an ambulance. I even let her take a piece of my soul with her once more.
Stu must take my silence for agreement. He stands and holds out a hand. “The main objective now is to get you to the secondary location. We can regroup and try again once we’ve got the lay of the land.”
His military jargon annoys me. The sounds of whispered excitement that float over to us grind on my nerves. Can’t he see that it’s useless? Everything I lived for has been shattered. Lainey is gone, and she hates me. I hate myself.
Truthfully, I don’t care about getting out of here, all I want to do is find somewhere to lick my wounds in peace and, maybe die in my sleep if I’m lucky enough.
“Just go,” I snarl. “Leave me the hell alone.”
Whatever my grandfather is paying him overrides his annoyance at my petulance. Stu manhandles me to my feet, then tosses me over his shoulder with a grunt. He creeps to the gate, making quick work of the padlock, then eases us through.
I hang over his shoulder, caught firmly in the grips of my shame and defeat, while he scoops out the alley way.
“It’s clear,” he murmurs.
I don’t reply.
Stu takes off running down the alley way with my body bouncing in his grip. Sounds of glass breaking and wood splintering fill the quiet night. The Black Shamrocks MC is destroying my safe house. My right-hand man puts me back on my feet. He squats, weaving his fingers together and offering me a boost over the back fence that surrounds the house where I left the Triumph.
Finally gathering my wits, I step onto his hands and clamber over the fence. I land on my bare ass on the dewy grass, hopefully the final indignity of the night, before I push to my feet and hobble into the house. Stu joins me after half a minute. He locks the door behind us, then runs a perimeter check.
“All clear.”
The house is sparsely furnished—I didn’t really think I’d need to use it, so I didn’t think to stock it properly. My overconfidence has come back to bite me on the ass now. All I want is to take the weight off my bleeding leg, and I don’t even have a chair to sit on.
Stu gathers together everything he can around the house and makes me a soft pallet on the floor of the living room. Checking the wound in my leg, he pulls out a small first aid kit. He directs me to the kitchen counter and I pull myself onto the kitchen counter. Lying down when he tells me to, I groan when he pours some sort of antiseptic on my wounded thigh. With two hands over my cock, I try to breathe through the fiery throbbing that shoots up my leg while he examines me. It hurts like hell. My grunts echo off the walls of the empty house when he digs around inside the bullet hole.
I black out from the pain, coming too when he shakes me.
“It’s not too bad,” he says. Loading everything back in his kit, he helps me limp over to the makeshift bed. “It’ll need stitches as soon as possible, but I’ve removed the bullet packed it tight for now. You won’t bleed out. Now, try to rest, I’m going to contact your people and organise a way to extract you from this clusterfuck.”
Exhaustion cloaks my mind like a cloud. Stu leaves the room, and I hear him explaining what’s happened to someone over the phone. The conversation sounds tense. I think he’s getting his asshole reamed for his failure.
As my body gives into the need to sleep, I rewind the events of today in my head and try to see where it all went so wrong. I do this multiple times, over and over again, each time trying to a wish an alternate outcome into reality.
It never works.
Every time, I end up right where I am now.
Broken and alone.
THIRTY-THREE
The sun is high in the sky when Stu shakes me awake. I grumble at his interruption. In my dreams, I was balls deep in Lainey. She was smiling, running her hands over my body while I pumped my cock in and out of her.
We were happy.
“Time to go.”
I blink when he turns blurry, then open my eyes again. “Where?”
“Home.” The muscle in his jaw works. I stare at him blankly until he elaborates. “Your grandfather has arranged a vehicle for us. It’s at the drop point already.”
The thought is going home makes me feel sick. My leg hurts, but I’d rather deal with that pain than be forced to listen to my father detail all the ways I messed this up and how much money it’s going to cost us all while he tries to fix the problem I created.
Everything is at stake.
Beast O’Brien is going to come at us head on when he sees what I did to Lainey. The only stipulation he put on the entire transaction was that I couldn’t hurt her too much.
The more I examine our convoluted plan, the worse my failure becomes. The Black Shamrocks MC will know they have at least one rat in their ranks. The Mavericks of Mayhem will be expecting my father to have neutralised the Black Shamrocks hold on the turf they need to start running my grandfather’s product—namely the area between the port and the mountains. And Hugo is stuck in the middle with a night club full of hookers, drugs, and weapons that will be going nowhere because I didn’t pull off my part of the deal.
“You need to get a move on.”
Stu unceremoniously hauls me to my feet. Shards of pain shoot down my leg and I drag in a sharp breath between my teeth. He ignores my obvious discomfort, tossing clothes at my feet, and leaving the room.
After I’ve dressed myself—taking my time to minimise the pain—I limp into the kitchen. Leaning my weight against the counter top, I hope we don’t have too far to go to get to the getaway car. My body is shaking, my knees threatening to give away after taking twenty steps. I can’t imagine making it much further.
The bags I left on the motorcycle are tossed at m
y feet.
“Pack the most important things in one bag,” he orders. “I can only carry one more.”
By holding my injured leg out at an angle, I manage to squat and rearrange my things. I zip the back pack and sling it over my own shoulder. Meeting his gaze with a hard stare, I silently challenge him to tell me to hand it over. Stu rolls his eyes but lets me keep it. He tucks a handgun down the back of his pants, grabs a black hat off the floor, then picks up his own bag.
“I need you to keep your head down and your shit together.” He places the baseball cap on my head. “Walk tall. Walk fast. You can cry in the car.”
“Asshole,” I mutter. I’d like to see him walk with a hole in his thigh.
Stu stays quiet. He doesn’t have to say anything anyhow. His thoughts are easy to read. He blames me for what happened.
He’s half right. I might have failed epically, but the half of this is on his head. He should have had a plan in place for a power outage—accidental or deliberate. It looks like I’m not the only one in this operation who underestimated the sophistication of the Black Shamrocks or their handle on technology.
“Bloody Kyle.” I speak the lanky redheaded geek’s name like a curse. He’s always had it out for me. He would have loved using his nerd skills to take me down.
Following Stu out the front door, I keep my limp to a minimum, even as it feels like fire is invading my bones with each step I take. Thankfully, Stu stops at a white station wagon that’s parked only six houses up the street.
He reaches under the tyre arch and pulls out a magnetic black box. Opening it he extracts a key and an alarm fob and unlocks the car. I open the passenger door, ready to collapse into the seat when he stops me.
“I’ll lay down the seats,” he says. Directing me to the back of the vehicle, he makes quick work of pushing the back seats flat until there’s a plenty of room for me to lay down. “Keep your head down, at least until we hit the countryside. They don’t know what I look like, so they’ll be looking for you.”
Without replying, I pull my back pack from my shoulder and awkwardly crawl into the back of the wagon. I hiss with each movement but manage to keep from making any loud noises. Using my bag as a makeshift pillow, I make myself comfortable. When he stands there staring at me, one hand holding the back door up, I glare at him.
“What are you waiting for? An escort from the Black Shamrocks?”
He slams the door shut.
After digging in his bag to retrieve a semi-automatic rifle and a large hunting knife, Stu finally starts the car and gets us the hell out of Dodge. Once we’re out of the city, the stress that I’d been trying to ignore escapes my clutches. I let every feeling I’ve been supressing wash over me—the pain in my leg, the ache in my heart, the knowledge that my life is going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better.
Wild thoughts rattle around my head. I try to solve them—I need to have the beginnings of a solution before I see my granddad and my father. Nothing fits. Every time I fix one problem, it creates a bigger issue for someone else. The only way out that I can see is to sacrifice one of the main players.
But which one? It can’t be my grandad—he’s the lynch pin to the entire thing. It can’t be my father either.
It has to be either the Black Shamrocks MC, the Mavericks of Mayhem, or Hugo.
The answer is clear. I have to sell out the one who can hurt us the least.
I have to sell out my best friend.
The quiet hum of the engine tries to lull me to sleep and, despite my heavy mind and the ache of certainty in my gut, I fight it off to try to find a way to spare Hugo. There isn’t one.
It’s a bitter reality to face.
I know that once he’s gone, I’ll be on my own.
Stu hasn’t said a word from the front. Every time, I lift my head to see what he’s doing, he seems more intense. He alternates between touching the rifle on the passenger seat like it’s a good luck charm and inspecting every vehicle that passes in either direction with suspicious eyes. His shoulders are tight, and I can feel his tightly coiled anger from back here.
Eventually, my exhaustion gets the better of me. My eyelids droop and I’m half a second from falling asleep when we’re rammed from behind. The wagon spins in a circle. I slide around in the back, bouncing off the sides and smashing my head on the roof. Stu manages to regain control, and I grab hold of the edge of the seat underneath me and brace more impact.
Nothing comes. Then I see three black vans. They box us in—one on each side and one behind us.
“Hold on,” Stu shouts.
I say nothing, my fingers scrambling for purchase beneath me. He accelerates, trying to outrun the vans, but it’s too late. Three Harley’s pull in front of us. I recognise them immediately by the patches they wear on the back of their leather jackets.
Stu grabs his rifle and shoot out the windscreen. His bullet spray wide and miss the three riders by metres. The black vans on the side of us open their windows and point their weapons at us. We’re boxed in, outnumbered, and being led to our deaths.
I thought it was over last night, until I escaped by the skin of my teeth.
Then, I was ready to die. Today, I want to live.
Unfortunately, my life is now in the hands of the Black Shamrocks MC.
THIRTY-FOUR
Being strung up naked on a chain from the rafters of a dusty shed wasn’t where I pictured my life ending. Whenever I thought about the end—admittedly rarely—I saw myself dying of old age in my bed, more recently balls deep in Madelaine O’Brien when it happened. My belief in the protection my family name offered was absolute. If the power my father wielded couldn’t fix my problems, then I had the Fitzgerald side to fall back on. Grandad’s assistance came at a cost, but he always came through.
The rumble of motorcycle engines fills the quiet countryside, rattling the steel rafters as they get closer. It sounds like a horde is descending—an angry mob of leather clad Vikings determined to avenge their own. The Black Shamrocks who have been guarding me and Stu leave to greet their mother chapter.
The sound of the motorbikes becomes unbearable loud, then it stops. The sudden silence brings sweat to my brow and sends impending doom running down my spine.
I wait for what feels like ages, before the biggest of our guards opens the door and ushers in Beast, Mik Kennedy, and Lainey. A cold shiver invades my body, chilling me right to my bones at the sight of her. If she’s here, then my chances of talking my way out of this—if they ever removed the dirty rag from my mouth— have reduced significantly.
There’s only one reason they would bring her.
She’s going to be the one who kills me.
Lainey’s face pales when she runs her eyes over me. I know I look like shit. The Black Shamrocks who caught us have worked me over pretty good. Looking at Stu next, she manages to turn a shade paler than white.
A small inkling—a tiny bit of hope—sparks in my gut.
Maybe she won’t be able to find it inside herself to follow through?
That ray of optimism dies when Mik stalks over to Stu and kicks him hard between the legs.
Stu regains consciousness with an ear-splitting wail that reverberates off the shed walls. Mik gets in his face, then rains down a series of punches that punctuate every second word he spits at Stu.
“What was that, motherfucker? You haven’t seen my fiancée anywhere, huh? Fucking lying piece of shit. Not so fucking tough now, are ya? Fucking scum, abducting an innocent woman for a fucking rapist.”
Mik’s last punch knocks the chair over with Stu in it. He appears to be knocked out, but that doesn't stop the vicious biker. He just starts kicking Stu instead.
He seems lost to the violence, embracing his need for payback until Lainey makes a sound. When he hears it, he stops and turns around to face her. Beast motions the blonde giant I met in their yard that night forward. Timber grabs his arm and drags him away from Stu. Mik fights, until Beast steps into the fray.
> “Calm the fuck down,” he orders, shooting daggers at his Vice President with his eyes
I pick up on the tension between him and Mik, and that’s when I know that my other contingency plan has been put into action. Hugo has come through for me—now I need to find a way to repay the favour if I get out of here alive.
He is truly the only person I can count on to have my back.
I need to keep it that way.
The hope I lost when I saw Lainey begins to return.
Mik fights to get his hands on Stu again.
Beast steps closer to him. “We need information first, then you can have your fun.”
Mik still doesn’t listen, he struggles against the blonde giant until Lainey steps in front of him and wraps her arms around his waist. He clutches her to him like a lifeline, his chest heaving while he pants, and I watch most of the tension flow from his body.
It’s interesting. While Lainey sends my inner monster spiralling out of control, she seems to soothe Mik’s into submission.
Maybe I can use that to my advantage?
Spitting part of the rag out of my mouth, I decide it’s time to bring the focus back to me.
“Bravo, bravo,” I cry, although some of the emotion is muffled by the dirty material. “I’d clap if I could. All that misguided anger over my beautiful slut. Oh Lainey, darling, if only he knew you loved every moment we were together. You couldn't get enough of my cock slamming your tight, wet pussy. It was only yesterday that you were moaning around a mouthful of my cock.”
Lainey spins to face me, her mouth open and bewilderment in her eyes. I wink at her. It has the desired effect. Mik shoves her behind Kyle and lunges for me. Timber holds him tight, only just managing to restrain him.
A rapid volley of profanity fills the air, all courtesy of the man Lainey is hellbent on tying herself to for life.
I always thought him uncouth, now he’s verified my belief with his behaviour. It’s a pity Lainey doesn’t think more highly of herself, she could do so much better.
While I focused on Mik and Lainey, Beast strides over and stabs me in my left thigh. Howls of pain are ripped from my chest, increasing in volume when he turns the handle for good measure.
Craving Control (Black Shamrocks MC Book 6) Page 29