Iron Will: Lords of Carnage: Ironwood MC

by Loveling, Daphne

  “You think I give a shit?” he sneers. “Shut the fuck up.”

  “Mickey,” Bethany pipes up, “ Please! You’re scaring Paisley! Please, put the gun away, before you hurt someone!”

  “Shut up goddamnit!” he snarls. Turning to Laney, he barks, “Where’s some tape or rope or somethin’?”

  “There’s some tape in the junk drawer,” Laney says in a trembling voice. “The one over there on the far left.”

  Mickey inches toward that side of the kitchen, his gun still trained on the women.

  “You don’t need to tie me up,” Laney continues. “Just leave, Mickey. You do that, and I won’t say anything. No one will follow you. You have some money now. Take Bethany’s car. We’ll all pretend this didn’t happen. It’s the best thing for everyone. You can’t win this way. You know that.”

  “Goddamnit, shut the fuck up!” Mickey yells. His back to me, he raises the gun and points it toward the ceiling.

  Seeing my opening, I launch myself toward him just as the gun goes off.

  The explosion is deafening in the small kitchen. I see rather than hear Mickey’s piece clatter to the floor as I tackle him to the ground. His head must make a noise when it smacks against the linoleum, too, because I see the bounce. Then I’m on him, pinning him down on his stomach. I wrench both hands behind his back and look up toward the women just in time to see Bethany grab Paisley and drag her under the table.

  “It’s okay, it’s good!” I call into the sudden silence, my voice too loud. “He’s down. It’s okay.”

  There’s a shout from the living room, and the loud echo of footsteps. “Rourke!”

  “Here!”

  Yoda appears in the doorway. Behind the table, Bethany and Paisley are getting to their feet. Bethany picks up Paisley in her arms and runs to Yoda, sobbing. Laney stands up shakily from her chair.

  Rogue pushes through and looks around the room, then down at Mickey, who’s struggling and yelling. I grab his hair and knock his head once, hard, on the floor. He shuts up.

  “He alone?” Rogue asks.

  “Yeah. It’s under control.”

  He nods, then looks at my feet.

  “Nice socks, brother,” he remarks.

  “Fuck you,” I toss back. Then, remembering Paisley’s here, I glance at Bethany. “Sorry.”

  Bethany bursts out into tears. “I think you get a pass on swearing today,” she says, laugh-crying.

  I turn to Rogue. “Grab this motherfucker.” I pull Mickey to his feet and wrench up on his arm once, hard, to let him know not to try anything. When Rogue’s got a good hold on him, I move away, grab the gun off the floor, and stand.

  When I look at Laney, she’s smiling at me, tears shining in her eyes.

  “I knew you’d figure it out,” she whispers. “I knew you’d come.”

  I cross the room in two steps and pull her to me. “You did good, darlin’,” I murmur. “I’m proud of you. You know how to think on your feet.”

  “Yeah?” she half-sobs. “You have any idea how I could market that skill? Because as it turns out, it looks like I’m on the job market.”

  “What?”

  Laney sighs out a shaky laugh. “I’ll explain later. For now, what are we going to do about him?” she asks, nodding at Mickey.

  “Oh, don’t you worry about that,” I growl. “Mickey’s done harassing Bethany. Or anyone else around here. I can guarantee it.”

  From the way Yoda’s looking down at Bethany right now, I’m pretty sure he’s gonna want to be the one to give Mickey the beatdown of his life. There’s no doubt in my mind that this is the last time we’ll be seeing Mickey King anywhere near Ironwood.

  I almost feel sorry for the pathetic piece of shit. For the next twenty-four hours or so, he’s gonna be sorry to be alive.

  Rogue grabs the tape Mickey was gonna use to tie up Laney, binds Mickey’s feet and hands, and pulls him out the side door to the attached garage. Yoda makes a quick call to one of the other brothers, gives him Laney’s address, and tells him to bring a van. Then, with a nod to all of us, he leads Bethany and Paisley out of the house, toward her car, and they drive away.

  I take Laney by the hand.

  “Tell you what,” I say. “Let’s you and me take off for a while. Let these guys take it from here.”

  She looks around and lets out a breath. “I guess I don’t want to be here for this part, do I?”

  “Nope.”

  I lead Laney out of the house and toward my bike.

  “Do I want to know what’s going to happen to Mickey?” Laney asks, looking up at me apprehensively.

  “Probably not,” I admit. “But don’t worry. He’ll live.”

  Just barely.

  28

  Laney

  “So, yeah,” I sigh as the waitress sets our plates in front of us. “I basically don’t have a job now.”

  I’m trying to act normal and nonchalant, but my hands are still shaking a little bit as I pick up my burger. It wasn’t even two hours ago that Mickey was waving a gun in my face and I was fearing for my life. Now, even though my mind knows I’m safe, my body doesn’t seem to have quite gotten the memo yet. I was trembling on the back of Rourke’s bike all the way here.

  We’re back at Shooter’s. Rourke insisted we leave my house while the other Lords were taking care of business. Since I hadn’t eaten lunch yet, he said I needed to get some food in me to help calm me down and asked me where I wanted to go.

  For some reason, the first place I thought of was here.

  “So you quit?” Rourke frowns. “I thought you liked working at the hospital?”

  Instead of answering right away, I lean forward and bite into my burger, then close my eyes in ecstasy as the delicious, fatty goodness fills my mouth. “Oh, my God,” I mumble around the mouthful. “How do they make these things so good?” I thought I’d lost my appetite, but somehow this is the perfect comfort food.

  I’m starting to think that maybe Shooter’s is my happy place.

  As I sit across from Rourke, trying to calm my jumbled nerves, I can’t help but think back to our first date here. I almost start laughing at the thought. The word “date” is such a strange concept, when Rourke is part of the equation. Almost like him giving me his class ring, or something.

  The image is enough to make me snort.

  “Um, nice snort,” he says.

  “Thanks.”

  “Laney, come on,” he frowns. “Talk to me. I need to know what happened at the hospital to make you quit.”

  I’m not quite sure how to tell him the real reason. Or if I even want to.

  “Long story,” I stall. “Let’s just say I reached the end of my rope.”

  He looks like he wants to ask me for more, but thankfully he doesn’t press it just yet. “Okay,” he sighs. “So… what are you gonna do now?”

  “I’m not sure,” I admit. “That question’s too hard right now. This burger, on the other hand, is everything.” I take another bite and try not to moan out loud. “The fact is, I don’t know how many other social work jobs there are in the area.” A pang of remorse hits me in the chest. “Plus, not only have I just given up one of the only decent jobs around here for me, but I’ve also screwed Paisley and Bethany over in the balance.”

  “What do you mean?” he asks, raising a brow.

  “I mean, now that I’m no longer employed by the hospital, I no longer have access to the resources to help Bethany get back on her feet.”

  Saying it out loud to Rourke like that, the full weight of what I’ve done hits me full in the stomach. Tears prick my eyes as I realize I still haven’t told Bethany any of this.

  It’s not that I regret standing up to Blake. Really I don’t. But I’m afraid I am very much going to regret letting Bethany and Paisley down.

  “You know,” Rourke murmurs, “I wouldn’t worry too much about that. Seems to me like Yoda and Bethany are a thing now. Or about to be. Which means Bethany’s under the protection of the club.
And the club takes care of its own.”

  “What does that mean?” I ask, swallowing.

  “The club’s a family. When someone needs help, we come together.” He gives me a reassuring nod. “Bethany and Paisley are gonna be okay. You don’t need to take that burden on yourself.”

  I set down the half-eaten burger on my plate, suddenly not feeling very hungry at all.

  “I hope so,” I mumble. “God, Rourke, I hate to think I just made things worse for them.” I shake my head, feeling helpless. “It’s bad enough that I just threw away one of the only decent social work jobs in the area. I can’t bear to think that I hurt them, too. I’d like to think that something good came out of all of this.”

  “Plenty of good came out of all this. Mickey’s out of the picture. Bethany’s free. Paisley’s healing up nicely.”

  “True…” I trail off, still not able to shake the feeling I’ve let them down.

  Rourke cocks his head at me. “What about you? You having second thoughts about quitting?”

  I consider his words. “Other than leaving Bethany in the lurch?” I shrug, picking up a fry. “I guess I feel bad I stormed out instead of giving my two weeks, because of the patients I was working with. But besides that? No, not really. Though ask me again in a couple of months when I’m living on canned cat food.”

  “Better than the kind that comes in a bag,” Rourke deadpans.

  I almost snort chewed French fry out my nose.

  “Nice snort,” he says again.

  “Whatever. Don’t make me snort, and I won’t snort.”

  “So.” He leans back in the booth and crosses his arms. “Let’s back up. I’m not really clear on what happened when Barber called you into his office. Was he gonna fire you, or something? Is that why you quit?”

  I’ve been trying to avoid giving Rourke the real reason. I guess I’m just embarrassed. I don’t want to go down the whole rabbit hole of Blake being jealous, and why. Because that might lead into dangerous territory: Talking about whatever it is that’s going on between Rourke and me.

  But he’s looking at me with an expressions that says he’s not going to let me change the subject again.

  “Blake saw us this morning,” I murmur. “He saw me getting off your bike.”

  “So?”

  “So… I guess after he caught us, um, kissing in the coffee shop that day,” I continue, reddening, “he made the assumption we were together, and uh, he didn’t like it much.”

  Rourke locks eyes with me. I can’t read his expression at all.

  “He didn’t, huh? That any of his business?”

  “No, obviously not,” I say quickly. “But… Blake asked me out a few times when I was first hired. And he’s been persistent about it.” I grimace. “To be honest, it’s been sort of exhausting keeping him at arm’s length. And I guess his ego was pretty bruised at the thought that I turned him down, but would spend time with you.”

  So that’s why you quit?” Rourke frowns. “Because he was mad you were with me?”

  “Well, not exactly…” Here goes nothing. “He demanded I completely stop seeing you. Inside the hospital or out. He basically said he wasn’t going to have an employee of his hospital consorting with a criminal.”

  “Consorting?” A corner of his mouth twitches.

  “His word.”

  “So… you quit your job so you could continue ‘consorting’ with me?” Rourke raises a brow.

  “No!” I protest. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind consorting with you, but…”

  Oh, my God, this is possibly the most awkward and embarrassing moment of my life.

  “Okay.” I blow out a breath and try again. “First of all, can we stop with the word ‘consorting’? Second, I quit because I’m not going to be bullied like that. By him or by anybody. It’s the principle of the thing. It has nothing to do with whether you and I keep seeing each other or not.”

  “Nothing?” his eyes twinkle.

  “Nothing,” I repeat, my jaw jutting.

  “Huh.”

  Rourke leans back in the booth for a moment, lost in thought.

  I wait, not sure what he’s thinking, and not sure I want to know. God, this is so awkward. I almost wish I’d never come here with him today.

  “You wanna know something?” he finally says.

  “What?”

  “I think this is maybe technically our third date.”

  I snort again, then hold up a hand. “I know, I know! Don’t say ‘nice snort’. But it’s kind of funny to call this a date, when it basically started with me being held at gunpoint.”

  “True.” He pauses a second. “You wanna know something else? I’ve never been on a date before you.”

  I gape at him. “Really?” I ask, honestly shocked.

  “Well,” he chuckles, “except for the time I took my sister to her seventh-grade dance, because she told me she was getting bullied. But I don’t think that counts.”

  “If it does, I think you and I have to have a serious talk,” I quip.

  Rourke bursts into laughter. “That was fucked up, but funny. You’re pretty funny, Laney the social worker.”

  “Ex-social worker,” I correct him. “And great. Funny is what every girl strives to be.”

  He doesn’t say anything for a second. When he speaks again, his tone is serious.

  “You know how fucking scared I was that I was gonna be too late getting to you today?” he says quietly, leaning forward.

  His voice has changed. It’s dropped a register. Lower, huskier, more intimate.

  It reminds me of the way he talks to me when we’re in bed.

  I suppress a shiver.

  “I was pretty scared, too,” I admit. “Thanks, by the way. Did I say thanks already?”

  “You done with your food?” he asks, pointing at my abandoned plate. “I think we should get out of here.”

  I swear I’m starting to get whiplash from all this jumping around from subject to subject. “Yeah, okay,” I frown, thoroughly confused.

  Rourke throws a couple of bills on the table, and I slide out of the booth. He calls a goodbye to one of the guys behind the bar, and a minute later, I’m sitting on the back of his bike, arms around him as he drives us back in the direction of Ironwood.

  I have no idea what’s up with Rourke right now, and honestly I’m too afraid to ask. Worried I’ll be disappointed in the answer. Belatedly, I kick myself for not making up another story about why I quit my job. A story that didn’t involve him. Maybe I freaked him out by basically admitting I wanted to see him again.

  The truth is, I feel something for Rourke I’ve never felt for any man before. And yeah, it’s not like I’ve even had that many relationships. But even so, I know this one is different.

  It’s important to me.

  In fact, it’s a lot more important than I’ve allowed myself to admit, even to myself.

  Maybe this is the last time I’ll see him. The last time I’ll ever be on the back of this bike. I sort of knew it had to end sometime. But it feels so sudden. I’m not ready.

  I swallow around a lump in my throat, and look around at the trees and nature whizzing by, trying to take it all in. Trying to fix a mental snapshot of everything, so I can remember it all. How free being on this motorcycle felt. And how free Rourke made me feel. Free, and safe at the same time. And seen — for who I actually am. Not Laney, the senator’s wayward daughter. Not Laney, the recently unemployed social worker.

  Laney, the woman.

  The woman who somehow has managed to meet a man who might be everything she’s ever wanted, in the last possible place she would have thought.

  When we get back into town, I start counting down the minutes until we’ll be back at my place, and this will all be over.

  But to my surprise, Rourke doesn’t turn off the highway when I think he will.

  Instead, he keeps going, past downtown, and then even further. We’re almost to the turnoff for the clubhouse when he slows and pulls of
f onto a street I’ve never been on before. We drive a few blocks more, passing houses that start out tightly packed together, then get more spaced out as we go.

  Finally, we come to a dead end, and a long low house set back a bit from the road.

  This can only be Rourke’s place.

  “Laney.”

  It isn’t until he says my name that I realize I’m just sitting on his bike, not moving. I scramble up from the seat, pulling off my helmet as Rourke puts down the kickstand and gets off. I give him a quizzical look, but he’s already heading to the front door. He unlocks it and pushes it open, motioning for me to go through.

  It isn’t until I’m inside that I realize the house abuts a wooded area. The entryway leads immediately to a large, open area that’s kitchen, dining room and living room. The back wall is almost entirely floor to ceiling windows, giving the space the feel of a treehouse.

  “Wow,” I breathe. “This place is amazing.”

  “Glad you like it.”

  Rourke stands silently as I wander around the room. I go up to the windows and look outside. It’s incredibly peaceful here. In spite of all the trauma and commotion of the day, I feel my muscles untense, a sense of calm coming over me.

  When I turn away from the window, Rourke is still standing behind me. He’s watching me, dark eyes unreadable. I feel my breath catch in my chest to see him like that — so gorgeous, so masculine. So fully him.

  “Rourke,” I begin, hardly daring to ask the question. “Why are we here?”

  “I wanted to get you away from all the shit,” he says simply. “From the club, too. This needs to just be about you and me.”

  “What does?”

  He crosses the room, until he’s standing a couple of feet in front of me. He leans against the window glass. The reflection from the outside lightens his eyes, making them almost light gray.

  “I’ve never had a woman here before,” he murmurs. “You’re the first.”

  My mouth starts to fall open, but I catch myself. “Ever?”

  “Yeah.” He takes a step forward. “And you’re my first date.”

  “Except for your sister,” I joke.

  He smirks. “What I’m trying to say, Laney the ex-social worker, is you’re the first for me, in a lot of ways.”