I start towards Renny when Mitch steps forward, right in my path. It’s not intentional. His eyes are roaming Angel, his face whiter than snow. They land on her tattoo like Jared’s did, only Mitch seems oddly stunned. It’s enough to make me pause.
“Francesca?”
He says that with familiarity, like he knows her. But that’s not Francesca. It’s Angel.
Her gaze lands on my brother-in-law and she falters.
“What are you …” He trails off, seeming unable to catch his breath.
“My god,” Jared mutters quietly, and I have no idea what’s going on.
Angel looks ready to run. “I need to get back.”
“Stop!” Mitch barks, prompted into action when she turns around.
She turns back, a resigned expression on her face. “I can’t do this.”
“It’s you,” he whispers. “You’re the one working with Rossi.”
I blanch, my eyes on Angel. “You’re a cop?”
“Why would you do this?” Mitch asks, and she flinches at the pain in his voice. “After what Gabriella went through. Now you?” He looks sick. “Why?”
“This is not your operation, Mitchell Valentine. I’m not obligated to tell you anything.”
“Frankie …” That nickname right there is enough to acknowledge some kind of history between the two. His expression hardens. “You’re coming with us.”
Rage explodes across her face and she steps right up in his space. “How dare you! You don’t what’s at play here, Valentine. Or what’s at stake.” Her eyes fall to Renny with a pained expression before they encompass all of us. “I need to get back. I only brought Renny out because there’s a damn biker war going on and the paramedics aren’t authorised to get through until it’s safe.” Her eyes flit to me. “Take care of him for me, please?”
I nod and resume my shift to Renny’s side as the paramedics work at stabilising him, but my eyes continue to flick between him, Mitch, and the blonde undercover biker.
“Frankie,” Mitch growls and grasps her arm.
She spins, flinging him off. “My god, you have no idea what you’ve done here today.”
“What we’ve done?” Jared interjects. “They kidnapped my goddamn wife!” he bellows. “They threatened her, abused her, terrorised her, and fucking wrapped her in explosives! We did what we had to, which is more than I can say for you.”
Angel shakes her head. Or Francesca as it seems to be. Frankie, even. “You played right into their hands.”
Worry for Renny has me crouching low, touching a hand to his brow, but Angel’s accusation throws me for a loop. When I look up, Mitch’s face is hard, and he looks pissed at her riddle. “Explain yourself.”
“It’s Rider you should have been watching for,” she hisses. “He needed Grudge out of the picture so he could step into his place, only he can’t just shoot the man himself. His brothers would kill him for it. Don’t you see? He was the one who gave you the co-ordinates for this tunnel. He attacked you at the house,” she says to Jared, “so Grudge would have time to escape, knowing full well you’d find him at the other end of it. Grudge has always been vocal about how he’d rather be dead than jailed. It’s common knowledge. The only way he’d let anyone take him was with a bullet to the head, and that’s exactly what he got.”
My brother-in-law throws up his hands, frustrated. “That’s what it’s like with the Vipers. You cut the head off the snake, and another one grows in its place. We knew this would happen.”
“You don’t know anything! You have no idea the magnitude of what this means.”
I shoot to my feet, unease swirling through my insides. “What does it mean?”
Her eyes come to me before shifting back to Mitch. “The King Street Boys. They never disbanded after Gabriella died. Some of the gang were jailed. The rest simply went underground. And Eli,” she says, referring to the gang leader and the man who shot Gabriella, “might be languishing in prison, but he’s got money, and he’s partnered his boys with Rider. With Grudge now out of the picture, they’ll be joining forces and coming for retribution. All of them.”
The silence is deafening.
“I’m the only one left on the inside.” Her eyes plead with Mitch to understand. “I need to get back.”
Mitch tips his head back, muttering a harsh expletive to the sky.
“Why would they do that?” I interject. “They killed Gabriella. And if what you say is true, Rider will be happy to learn Grudge is dead. Why would they want retribution for that?”
“Because the Vipers don’t know Rider is behind it. He’s obligated to arrange payback.”
Mac steps in. “And Eli?”
“The Valentines’ killed his brother. Ostracised him from his father. You took away his family and put him in prison. He’s been plotting this since the moment you put him away.”
Mitch shifts close to Angel, lowering his voice. “Why didn’t you come to me?”
She looks up to meet his eyes. “The same reason I’ve never come to you for anything.”
He trails fingers over the exposed Viper tattoo on her hip before his hand falls away. “I can’t let you go back, Frankie.”
“That’s not for you to decide.”
“Don’t make me pull rank on you.”
“You could try, but we both know it won’t work. I’ve given this operation everything, and I’m the only one close enough on the inside. I’m the only one who can stop this.”
“You don’t have to be the only one. Forget your cover. We can do this together.”
She tips her head down, pressing it against his chest.
Mitch pulls her in, sliding his arms around her. “Frankie,” he croaks.
“Gabriella was my best friend,” she mumbles inside his smothering hold. “She was all I had. I have to do this.” Angel pulls free of his embrace and looks to me once again. “Please don’t let the Vipers snatch you again.”
She steps back once, twice, before turning and disappearing back inside the tunnel.
I look to Mitch. His eyes are closed as if he can’t bear to watch her leave.
Jared’s arms come around me and he leads me away. We follow behind the paramedics. With Renny now stabilised for transport, they need to move fast. But I turn back for one last look at my brother-in-law.
His head is bowed, his hand pressed to the back of his neck in a picture of defeat.
My heart aches for him.
He’s lost too much.
10
JARED
I lead Evie out to a second waiting ambulance, my palm pressed gently to her lower back. Her hair is loose and tangled, tickling my fingers as we walk. I tug lightly on the strands and she gives me her attention. “You okay?” I ask quietly.
Her lips press together and her eyes cut to the first ambulance. Rossi is on the stretcher, being wheeled inside. Two paramedics jump in behind him and the back doors slam closed. One of the bomb squad members thumps his fist against them twice—giving the okay—before stepping back. Dust and rocks kick up as it takes off, lights already flashing, sirens squealing. Two police escorts move in front, another takes the back. Rossi is a cop, injured in the line of duty. The news will be on every police radio in the vicinity. They’ll band together to make sure his trip to hospital is fast and unimpeded.
Evie’s eyes come back to mine. “I want to go home. I want to hug Wolf.”
“Tomorrow. You need the hospital.”
“I’m fine,” she insists.
“You’re not fine.”
A paramedic steps forward, an older man with the name badge, Stuart. He guides her to the open back doors and helps her take a seat. “How are you feeling, Mrs Valentine?”
“I’m fine,” she repeats, frustration evident in her voice.
I hover while he examines Evie, asking questions.
“Jared, please go check on Mitch?” She looks over at my brother, her teeth biting down on her bottom lip. He’s standing with Coby and Travis, though he’
s set himself apart and he’s tapping at his phone, his brows pulled down. “I’m worried about him.”
That same worry niggles at me too. We figured there might have been someone else on the inside besides Rossi, but I would not have staked my life on it being Gabriella’s best friend. They were in the same grade together—all three of them—back in high school, and I always figured he’d end up with the shy, pretty blonde. We all did. It came as a surprise when he escorted Gabriella to the Graduation Formal instead. The two of them ended up attending Charles Sturt University together, while Frankie … I rub at my chin, my fingers scratching over the rough seven-day beard. I never knew what became of her. Until now.
She’s changed dramatically. Frankie isn’t the same timid girl I remember but being undercover in the most violent biker club in the country would do that to you. The Vipers are brutal, and to be a female in the middle of all that? The thought of what she’s enduring puts me in a cold sweat.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Evie, and start for my brother.
Mitch looks up at my approach and his eyes flick to my wife. “How is she?”
“I honestly don’t know,” I admit as he tucks his phone away. “What they put her through …” I trail off as we watch Stuart check her blood pressure. Christ, it must be through the fucking roof. God knows mine is. I rub a hand over my pained chest. “She’s acting fine now but it’s going to hit her later.” I eye my brother. “How are you doing?”
“I’m pissed off.”
“Jesus, Mitch. They’ve put Frankie right inside the middle of the Vipers. What were they thinking?”
“They weren’t.” He works his jaw for a moment. “And the one ally she had on the inside has been exposed and now he’s fighting for his fucking life.” My brother dips his head. “If they find out who she is, they’ll kill her.”
Jesus.
Then another thought hits me. “Mitch.”
He looks up.
“What about Eli?” I ask, referring to my brother’s childhood best friend, Elijah Rossiter.
They were joined at the hip during school, both of them making their way up the ranks of the force after graduation. Eli was due to become the youngest Chief Inspector in NSW Police history. Then it came to light he had a half-brother, Adam Rossiter, known only as Ross. They were raised by different mothers in different states. Eli was born on the side of good, and Ross the bad. Only sometimes good turns bad too. Unless it’s been bad all along. Who knows? I was never close with Eli.
Ross fronted as gang leader for the King Street Boys, but we found out later it was Eli who ran the show. The Melbourne gang had everyone in their pocket—celebrities, politicians, even the police.
When my brother found out, he did the coldest thing I’ve ever seen him do. He kept the friendship and bided his time, not saying a word until he was ready, and when he was? He brought the whole gang down in a police sting that made international news.
Both he and Gabriella got shot for it. He lived, she died, and Eli went to prison. My brother hasn’t been the same since.
“Dammit, Mitch. He knows Frankie. You all went to school together. They might not catch on to who she is with Eli being in prison, but it’s only a matter of time.”
Mitch rubs hands over his face. “We need to get her out.”
“How much time do we have?”
“Enough. We might have played into their hands today, but our show of force with the Sentinels was something they didn’t see coming. The whole point of bringing the bikers in to this shitshow was to demonstrate the kind of backing we have and make them think twice about coming after us again. If they want retribution, they’re going to bide their time about it.”
I nod, noting how my brother works his jaw, his eyes on the distance. Mitch is nothing if not smart. He’s already formulating a plan.
Whatever it is, I’m right behind him. None of us can live with the threat of retribution forever. We can beef up security, keep our ears to the ground, and the Sentinels on speed dial, but one way or another, this is going to end.
I look to Evie. She’s bruised and sore, wincing as Stuart tends to her face. But there’s a man I don’t know hovering at her side, talking as if they’re fast friends. She’s looking up at him, laughing as sunlight dances over the beautiful warm hue of her skin, hitting some of the lighter strands in her hair and turning it gold.
My protective instincts hit overdrive and I leave Mitch with the others, making my way back to her side.
“Jared, this is Moses O’Reilly,” she says, introducing me when she sees me coming over and I realise the man is no stranger. He’s the one who removed the vest from Evie. “Moses, this is my husband, Jared.”
I offer my hand. He leans in and shakes it. I use my other hand to squeeze his shoulder in gratitude before letting go. “Thank you. We owe you a huge debt. If there’s anything you ever need …”
The man shrugs. “I’d say I’m just doing my job, but it’s not every day that job involves removing explosive devices from celebrities.” Someone calls his name and he glances over his shoulder, giving a quick wave. “I need to get going.”
Evie offers a smile. “Thank you, Moses, for what you did.”
“I’ll be seeing you at your next show,” he tells her, and gives me a friendly slap on the back as he walks off, saying over his shoulder with a laugh, “Hope you like the name Moses, man.”
I lift a brow at Evie in question, but instead of explaining, she just looks at me and all I can see is the light slowly leaching from her eyes until everything she’s feeling is laid bare for me to see. She’s held herself together for too long. That she feels safe enough to let go with me means everything. Maybe it’s not too late for us after all.
“I want to go home.” Her face crumples and tears start to fall. I tug Evie to her feet and wrap my arms around her, and while I’m relieved to have her back with me, there’s rage too. It eats away at my insides over what she’s endured. “I just want to go home.”
She shudders against me and I pull her in tighter. “Then we go home.”
“There you go, babe,” I say, setting a drink down on Evie’s bath caddy, finding space amongst lit scented candles, puffy scrubby things, and other bits of feminine paraphernalia that confound me.
My wife is buried to her neck in bubbles. She swipes them from her hands, sitting up a little as she reaches for the glass. It’s expensive heavy crystal. A wedding gift from Casey. The only reason I know this is because he likes to mention it every time he comes over and we use them.
She lifts the liberal dose of whiskey with a dubious expression. Ice clinks together with buoyant cheer as her eyes move from me to the glass and back again. “What?” she asks, watching me watch her.
“Nothing,” I reply, raising my brows as if I don’t understand her hesitation. “Drink up.”
Her gaze narrows as she slowly lifts the glass. She eyeballs me over the rim, scrutinising my expression carefully.
I know she can’t have alcohol. But she doesn’t know that I know. I’m playing a ridiculous game of chicken here, but I want her to hurry up and tell me about the baby. Then we can celebrate the news. After that I can bury my cock deep inside her until I don’t know where she ends and I begin. And after that we can talk. I’d just prefer to do the talking last because I’m a coward. I don’t want her telling me we need to take a break. I’ve seen enough episodes of Friends to know that shit does not end well.
“Would you prefer a wine?” I ask with all the innocence of a clueless child.
It clicks then. I see it in her face. She scowls and sets the glass back on the caddy with a huff. “My friends have big mouths. Who told you?”
I don’t answer. Instead I peel my shirt away, dropping it on the floor. Her head dips, and my dick twitches when her eyes roam my chest like she wants to traverse the length of it with her tongue. I’ve bulked up a little more over the years, adding more muscle. Mostly due to frustration. It’s harder to think about failing her
as a husband when I’m lifting heavy on the bench press.
I shove my pants down and off and step inside the tub. There’s room enough for two but the tub is full. Water sloshes over the edge as I sink down opposite my wife with a slight wince at the scalding temperature, her little bath caddy a barrier between us.
Snatching up the glass Evie abandoned, I take a hefty gulp as she watches me. The alcohol glides down my throat like warm silk as I eye my wife and throw my friend under the bus. “Casey told me.”
Her voice is a hiss. “He’s a dead man.”
“Okay,” I reply mildly, taking another sip of whiskey before setting it back on the caddy. With both hands now free, I rest them on her calves, sliding my palms up and over her smooth, luscious thighs. “How should we do it? A bit of torture first?” I arch a brow teasingly, not missing the way Evie shivers as my fingers skate along her bare skin. “I can start by breaking a couple of fingers for you, or his legs if you prefer?”
“I have a better idea.” Her eyes take on a wicked glint. “His surfboard.”
Even I pause at that. My wife is evil. “You want me to break his prized board in half for you? We can make it look like an accident,” I tell her, because I can be evil too. “Maybe drive over it at the beach parking lot like we didn’t see it.”
“You’re a sneaky man, Jared Valentine. Let’s do it,” she jokes, her laugh throaty. Sexy. And I like that I’ve been able to take her mind off today. Even if it’s just for a moment and at Casey’s expense. I’ll take it.
“We make a good team.”
She pauses for a moment, her expression turning sad. “We used to.”
Fuck.
I want to punch myself for saying the wrong thing. It was meant to remind her how good we are good together, but all it’s done is remind her that we aren’t good anymore.
The drive home today had been sombre. I’d refused to let go of her hand while she looked out the passenger window and told me everything that happened, from the moment Rossi appeared on his bike, until the time she and Grudge arrived at the exit of the storm drain. Our hands rested on my thigh the entire time she spoke, fingers entwined, and I tried not to squeeze too hard when she got to the part where the Vipers pinned her down and strapped on the vest. When I changed gears, her hand came with me, before returning back to my leg once again.
Give Me War Page 12