Iron Will: Lords of Carnage: Ironwood MC

by Loveling, Daphne

  Now that the show is over, I turn my attention to the other reason I’m here.

  “Hey,” I ask a pretty blonde nurse who’s just coming out of a room a couple of doors down from Paisley’s. “Where can I find that social worker? Laney? She have an office or something?”

  The blonde opens her eyes a little wider at me, but otherwise doesn’t react. “Her office is on the first floor. In the east wing. There’s a directory next to the elevators downstairs that will tell you her office number.”

  When I get down to the first floor, I find the directory, right where the blonde nurse said it would be. For a second, I don’t see Laney’s name, but then I realize it’s because she’s listed under Delaney. I note her last name, too: Hart.

  Filing that information away, I head down the hall toward where her office should be.

  The door to Laney’s office is cracked open about six inches. I rap on it with a knuckle and push it a little wider. She’s sitting in front of a laptop, typing, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she concentrates. After a second she looks up. Her eyes flicker in recognition when she sees me.

  “Hello,” she murmurs, one brow arching.

  She’s wearing her hair up today, in a bun high on her head that somehow manages to look professional and fuck hot at the same time. A black silk shirt with a low neckline slides softy against her skin, showing off the swell of those breasts I’ve been dying to touch. The plump lower lip she was biting glistens slightly, pulling at my attention and making my jeans uncomfortably tight as I imagine her wrapping it and its partner around my cock.

  “Hey,” I mutter. My voice comes out husky. “Can I talk to you for a few?”

  Laney shifts her body toward me. “What’s up?”

  “It’s about Paisley.”

  Laney blinks, then rises in her chair and picks up a small key ring sitting on the desk next to her laptop. “I wouldn’t mind grabbing a cup of coffee,” she says. “There’s a shop on this floor.”

  “I’ll buy you a cup. Come on.”

  I push the door open the rest of the way and hold it open for her. As she steps through, she raises here eyebrow again. “How gentlemanly of you,” she teases.

  “That’s me. All gentleman.”

  That, and it gives me the chance to cop a look at that fucking fantastic ass of hers.

  She’s wearing one of those pencil skirts today, the kind that hugs her thighs. It’s the color of ripe plums. The heels she’s got on are giving me all sorts of fantasies about takin’ her back inside that office, locking the door, and having her strip down until those shoes are the only thing she’s got on while I fuck her on the desk.

  My cock throbs. I force myself to think of dead puppies and come up beside her.

  When we get to the coffee shop, I ask her what she wants to drink, then tell her to go get us a place to sit. I grab our orders, and find her at a small table against the far wall. There’s only two other customers, both of them alone, at tables on the other side of the shop.

  “Here you go,” I say. I set her cup down and grab the chair across from her.

  “Thanks.” Laney picks up the coffee and takes a quick sip, grimacing slightly. “Hot.”

  “Yeah. Coffee usually is,” I smirk.

  “Really?” she asks, narrowing her eyes. “You’re going to do this?”

  “Do what?”

  “Be a jerk.” She wrinkles her nose. “You asked me to come talk to you. I’m talking to you.”

  “Okay, okay. Sorry.” I hold up my hands.

  “So,” she prompts, suddenly all business. “Paisley.”

  “Yeah.” I lean back and look at her. “How much longer is she gonna be in here?”

  “In the hospital?” Laney bites her plump lower lip again and stares down at her cup. It’s not something she’s doing to be sexy — in fact, I doubt she even realizes she’s doing it at all — but somehow the gesture always goes straight to my dick.

  “Not much longer, unfortunately,” she finally says. “I mean, it’s good that she’s doing better. But…”

  “But once she’s out of the hospital, she’s back with Mickey again,” I finish for her.

  Laney blows out a breath. “Exactly.”

  “Yeah. So, I’ve been thinkin’ about that.”

  “What about?”

  “Some way to get Mickey out of the picture.”

  Laney’s eyes widen. “Permanently?”

  I have to laugh at her shock. “I don’t mean kill him. Jesus.”

  Though it has crossed my mind.

  Not that you need to know that.

  Laney looks down, embarrassed, but when she looks back up at me, I can tell she still doesn’t get what I’m driving at.

  “Look, I’m talking about getting him away from Paisley,” I explain. “I dunno. Buy some time. Because it doesn’t look to me like Bethany is gonna dump him anytime soon.”

  “You may be right about that,” Laney concedes. “Not as hard as he’ll need to be dumped, anyway. She told me she did kick him out the night before Paisley’s accident. But he came back. And she doesn’t seem to have the strength right now to get rid of him for good.” She sighs. “I suggested she could put him on a list of people who weren’t allowed to see Paisley here at the hospital, but she didn’t want to do that, either.”

  “The ass wipe has been comin’ around the hospital a bunch of times every day, according to the Lords outside Paisley’s room,” I tell her. “I can’t figure out why, though, since he doesn’t seem to even like the kid.”

  “Control,” Laney answers immediately. “It bugs him that he’s not calling the shots. And he’s really upset about the money he thinks it’s costing to keep Paisley here. My guess is he sees Bethany’s money as rightfully his. And the more time Paisley’s in the hospital, the less of it she has to give him.”

  “Makes sense,” I nod.

  I tell her everything I found out about Mickey from Yoda’s sniffing around. “Sounds to me like Bethany might be the only thing keepin’ him from sleeping out on a park bench somewhere. Seems like most of Mickey’s money goes straight to his gambling habit, from what Yoda can tell.”

  “Crap,” she mutters. “He’s not going to let Bethany go without a fight. She’s his gravy train.”

  “Can’t you file some kind of social work order, or something?” I ask, frustrated. “To keep him away from Paisley?”

  Laney sucks in a breath. “It’s complicated,” she says, peering into her cup. “The short answer is, there’s not really enough evidence to do that. The long answer is, anything I do to try to keep Mickey away from Paisley, will end up hurting Bethany and Paisley. And the only evidence I have that Mickey’s hurting…”

  Laney stops abruptly, her mouth snapping shut. She sneaks a quick glance at me, then looks back down into her cup.

  Goddamnit, there’s something she’s not saying.

  “What? Laney, finish your damn sentence. What were you going to say?” I demand.

  She turns those gorgeous green eyes back up at me. The look she gives me is so obviously troubled, I know something is definitely up.

  “I can’t tell you,” she breathes. “It’s unprofessional.”

  Her lip slides between her teeth again. Jesus fucking Christ, she cannot know how sexy that is.

  “Laney.” I lean forward, until my face is inches from hers. “I know you don’t exactly fuckin’ trust me. I know you don’t wanna do the wrong thing here. And I get that you’ve got professional obligations and shit. But I think you wanna do the right thing by Paisley. And so do I.” I pause. “Sometimes, the right thing to do is different from what everyone else is tellin’ you you’re supposed to do.”

  She shakes her head, her eyes glancing away from mine. She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. But I’m waiting her out, and I’m not taking no for an answer.

  Finally, she sighs.

  “I hope I don’t regret this,” she murmurs. “But there’s something else the doctor found when Pa
isley was brought in.”

  12

  Laney

  Against my better judgment, I end up telling Rourke about the bruise Doctor Methaney noticed on Paisley’s arm.

  When the meaning of my words sinks in, Rourke’s face transforms into a mask of pure fury. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he hisses. “Are you tellin’ me what I think you are?”

  I nod. “I talked to Bethany about it. She said it happened the night before Paisley’s fall. She swore it was the first time it’s happened.”

  He stares at the wall, his features turning to stone. For a second, think he’s going to punch it.

  “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him.”

  Rourke doesn’t shout the words. He speaks them quietly. Without any inflection. And somehow, they seem even more frightening that way.

  “Rourke, please,” I stammer. “Listen to me.” My heart begins to pound.

  “Ain’t no more to be said.” His jaw is clenched tight.

  “Yes there is!” I retort, then stop myself. His face is an angry mask, and I know he’s going to have trouble hearing anything I say right now. I need to do my best to exude calm through my voice.

  “Rourke,” I say softly, to get his attention. “Look at me. Please.”

  I wait, several seconds. Finally, his eyes flicker and turn to mine, dark as coals.

  “First,” I begin, “it doesn’t make any sense for you to go to jail for hurting Mickey. He’s not worth it. And that’s what will happen if you beat him up here at the hospital. Okay?” I wait, but his features don’t change. I try again. “And second — and more importantly — did you hear what I said before? Bethany kicked him out of the motel for hurting Paisley. Which means, she might be on the verge of being strong enough to leave him for good. If we can help her to be.”

  I stop for a moment, to let my words sink in.

  “Not to get all social worker on you,” I continue. “But on average, it takes a woman several attempts to successfully leave a toxic or abusive relationship. Bethany has clearly been caught up in this role with Mickey where she’s supporting and taking care of him. It looks to me like she might be on the verge of breaking that cycle. The best way by far to help her get him out of the picture permanently is if she realizes once and for all — for herself — that he’s not worth her time.” I pause. “If you hurt Mickey now, it might actually backfire. Bethany might let her guilt and caretaker tendencies come roaring back, and feel like she has to stay with him longer.” I take a deep breath and let it out. “Does that make sense?”

  “Not if I actually kill him.”

  “Rourke, stop joking,” I say, not at all sure that’s what he’s doing.

  “Fuck!” he rasps. Suddenly, he pounds his fist on the table, hard enough to make the other customers in the coffee shop jump in their chairs. One of them scurries up out of her chair and quickly leaves the shop.

  “This is fucking bullshit,” he seethes. “That motherfucker needs be out of the picture.”

  “I don’t disagree.” I wrap both hands around my coffee cup for comfort and keep my voice steady. “I wish there was something we could do to keep Mickey away from Bethany and Paisley, long enough for Bethany to really feel how much easier her life is without him. It’s pretty obvious he’s a petty thief, to say the least. That can’t be good for Paisley to be around.” I blow out a disgusted breath. “Do you know, he was trying to get morphine from the nurses the other day?”

  “He what?” Rourke grunts, expression still stormy.

  “That’s right.” I almost have to laugh at the memory. “It was the day after Paisley was brought in. He said they wanted to take her home, and the nurses should give him her painkillers so he could give it to her himself. To ‘save money’.”

  “He said that?” Despite how angry Rourke is, this news seems to pull him back into the present a little. He actually snorts at my words. “That guy’s ballsy as well as stupid as shit, I’ll give him that.”

  “Do you think he wanted the for himself?” I ask. “Or to sell?”

  “To sell, most likely,” he growls. “From what I hear, he’s the kind of guy who’s always looking for anything he can beg, borrow or steal and make a profit on. Drugs would be an easy first choice. And what better place but a hospital…” Rourke trails off. “Shit,” he mutters.

  “What?”

  “I think I have an idea.” Rourke says slowly, his brow furrowing. “Ya know, I saw Mickey here the other day, fiddling with a locked door. Trying to get it open. At the time I didn’t know what he was tryin’ to pull. But now I’m guessin’ he was looking for shit to steal.”

  I look at him, stupefied. “Here at the hospital? Are you serious?” God, what a total dirtbag this guy is. “I wish we could catch him in the act,” I say with a sigh of frustration. “That would be the perfect excuse to get him banned from here.”

  “Yeah,” he says. “Exactly.”

  “What?”

  For the first time since I told him about Paisley’s bruise, the hint of a grin plays across Rourke’s face.

  “We catch him in the act,” he says simply. “Or rather, we set him up so that the right people catch him. We get him not just banned from the hospital. If we play our cards right, we get him out of the picture completely. At least for a few days, and maybe even longer.”

  * * *

  “You can’t be serious!” I protest after Rourke has explained his plan that’s started to form in his head.

  “Why not?” he shrugs. “You don’t want me to give him a beatdown. This is a way to get him out of the picture for a while.”

  “But it’s… it’s crazy!”

  “What’s crazy about it?” he challenges me. “This is a hospital. There’s drugs all over the goddamn place. All we gotta do is make it easy for Mickey to get caught in the act trying to steal some. He gets hauled off, spends a few days in the slammer waiting for charges. Assuming no one posts bail, he’s out of Bethany’s hair. And away from Paisley.”

  “But I don’t see how we actually make it work.”

  “It can’t be that complicated,” he counters. “We just gotta lead the dipshit to water, and he’ll drink, right? Ain’t no way a loser like Mickey who’s down on his luck and lookin’ for a quick way to make a buck is gonna resist a golden opportunity that’s right in front of him.”

  “It’s not that simple. There’s no real way he could get into the pharmacy. And all of the med cabinets and closets in the hospital are locked. Only authorized people have access.”

  “Right. So your job is to figure out how to get one unlocked, so Mickey can get caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I can take care of gettin’ him caught.”

  “Stop mixing metaphors,” I retort. “And all I have to do is make sure the med cabinet is unlocked?”

  “You think you can handle it?” He leans forward, his dark eyes locking on mine.

  “How?” I ask.

  “You tell me.”

  I blink, and sit back in my chair, thinking.

  “I don’t know that I can,” I say slowly. “Only medical staff have access to the Pyxis machine that dispenses meds. A nurse or doctor has to log in with their credentials and input the patient before they can get drugs out. As a social worker, I don’t have authorization. The only way I can think of to trap Mickey would be to make it easy for him to steal someone else’s credentials and clear out the machine.”

  “So, let’s do that.”

  “It’s not that simple,” I protest. “Even if he was caught red-handed, the person whose credentials he took would register as having unlocked the machine. They would be immediately under suspicion, either for being involved or for failing to keep track of their ID.” I shake my head. “I can’t put any of the hospital employees at risk like that. I think we have to think of another way.”

  Rourke frowns, then nods. “Okay. I see your point. So, there’s gotta be something else he can steal around here that’d be easier to get at.”

  “I mean, technically, the
re’s plenty of stuff, if you’re looking. But, how would we trick him into doing it? And doesn’t that mean we have to let him actually steal something?” I fret. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that. Supposing he gets away?”

  “He won’t,” Rourke smirks. “I know a guy on the police force.”

  “Wait, what? You are friends with a police officer?” I say, amazed. “Now I’ve heard everything.”

  Rourke laughs. “We went to school together. We ain’t buddies or anything exactly, but… yeah. I’m pretty sure I could get him to just coincidentally be here at the hospital when he needs to be.”

  “So… your plan is to actually get Mickey arrested.” Now it’s my turn to be amused.

  “Yeah. Hell, it’s not like my cop friend is gonna say no to arresting someone who actually commits a crime, right? Joe can put the guy in a cell for a few days. Until Paisley is out of the hospital, probably longer. No way Mickey’ll be able to post bail, right.”

  “And after that?”

  “After he gets out, I’ll make it so Mickey understands it’s in his best interests to stay the hell away from that little girl and her mom.” His eyes gleam. “And Ironwood. And southern Ohio, while we’re at it.”

  From the determined look one Rourke’s face, I have no doubt he’s dead serious about all of this. I shake my head in grudging admiration. “Unbelievable.”

  “But it’ll work. I’ll make sure it does.” He gives me a conspiratorial grin. “So, what do you say? You in?”

  13

  Laney

  There’s a little voice inside me saying, This is crazy, Laney. Don’t do it. Don’t get involved. You could risk your job.

  And for a second, I listen to it.

  But the thing is, there’s another voice that’s louder. And that one says: The only way that little girl is going to be safe is if Mickey goes away.