Trigger’s face contorted and he punched Mac hard enough to snap his head back. Dazed by the blow, he shook his head, then tasted blood. It filled his mouth and he spat it out, taking care to aim at Trigger’s boots.
“You’re really pushing me to hurt you, huh?” Trigger grated out. He reached behind him and picked up a tire iron, smacked it against his palm a few times for effect. “Well, dickhead, it’s your lucky day, ‘cause there’s nothing I’d rather do and I got no other plans.”
Mac braced himself as Trigger came at him now, his arm raised. He held the other man’s eyes, determined to not cower or back down. Mac wasn’t giving this sick, twisted jerk the satisfaction of seeing him afraid or supplicant. He’d die before he handed even one ounce of his power to this animal.
When the shot echoed around the abandoned warehouse, Mac did close his eyes, though. Just for a second and only in relief. That shot was the sound that heralded the end of Mirrie’s nightmare... and Mac thought that he’d never heard anything so beautiful.
By the time Mac opened his eyes again, Trigger had dropped his arm and was staring down at his chest wild-eyed. King’s aim had been perfect, Mac saw now, and he watched the blood seep through Trigger’s t-shirt, knew that there was nothing to be done. Not that they’d do anything to help him, anyway. Helping him was definitely not part of the plan that night.
Ace unfroze now and moved to his President. “Trigger!”
It was as if hearing his name made it all real for him. Trigger sank to his knees, clutching his chest now, gasping. Ace grabbed his shoulders, pulled him up a bit.
“Trigger!” Ace stared in to the man’s blue eyes, watched as the light in them went out. He’d had enough people die in front of him to know what that meant. “Oh, God... no. Trigger! Come on, man. Hang on.”
But it was no use, no good. Trigger fell forward, hard, and his dead weight made Ace stumble. By the time Ace got to his feet, King and Jack were standing in front of him, their guns aimed right at his head.
“Hey, Ace,” King greeted him. “Exciting night, huh?”
“What the – “ Ace stood there, stunned and off-balance. “King. What are you –”
King totally ignored his sputtering and came over to Mac. He knelt down in front of him, his gray eyes taking in the blood and bruises. He shook his head, pulled out a knife and started to cut Mac free.
“You OK, man?” he asked.
“I’ve been better,” Mac said. “But I am damn happy to see your ugly face.”
“I’ll remind you that you said that the next time you give me grief.” King’s tone was light but his face was pure rage. “So I guess I’m your white knight and savior, huh?”
“Bah, dream on,” Mac huffed. “I had it all under control, Kingston.”
“Yeah, it sure looked that way from where I was standing,” King said dryly.
Mac got his feet under him and started to stand up. He winced as pain shot through every part of his body and he took a shuddering breath. Without a word, King reached out, pulled him in close. The men embraced for a few seconds, silent and still, then King pulled back and gently punched Mac on the shoulder. He winced again, even at that playful tap.
“I’m sorry I had to let it go on for so long, Mac.” King’s face was apologetic. “I had to wait until he was coming at you with a weapon, or he was beating you damn near to death.”
“Why?” Mac touched the back of his head carefully, felt the massive bump rising steadily. “So you could tell the cops you killed him in the middle of attempting to murder me?”
King shot him a startled look. “No way, man. The cops have got nothing to do with this.”
“Oh.” Mac paused. “So why?”
“It makes me a selfish bastard, I know, but it was for me.”
“For you?”
“Yeah. Trigger was a monster and we all know it, and I’ve killed plenty of men in my time, but I’ve never taken a life just for the hell of it. Not even the life of someone who fucking deserved to be wiped off the planet. I’ve always killed in self-defence or to save someone else from being killed.”
“And you needed to wait until I needed to be saved,” Mac said slowly. “Until Trigger was going to go too far.”
“Yeah. It was the only way that I’d be able to end his life and live with myself after.” King’s eyes were strangely vulnerable as he stared at his friend. “I’m sorry you had to suffer for my peace of mind and my conscience. Can you forgive me for that?”
“Of course I can. Fuck, Matt, I don’t want you to be haunted by anything that you do – most especially anything that you do for me. I like that you can draw the line the way that you do, that you can stop yourself from taking a miserable, pathetic life just because you can. It makes you a good man. Maybe the best man that I know.”
“Thank you,” King said softly. “And I’m glad you’re OK, Mac. You had me worried for a while there.”
“You were worried about me?” Mac said. “Damn, King, you should have been worried about Mirrie.”
“She’s fine,” King said quickly as he handed Mac a towel for his bloody face. “She’s sleeping and my team is standing right outside the door.”
“Nah, that’s not what I meant.” Mac pushed his hair back and grinned. “I meant that if anything had happened to me, you’d have had to deal with her. And man, you do not want to deal with Mirrie when she’s pissed at you.”
“I can well imagine.”
They gave each other real smiles, with real feeling, then turned their attention to Ace. They were gratified to see that he still looked stunned.
Ace stared at Jack pointing a gun at him, stared at Trigger’s dead body, stared at King as he peeled some rubber surgical gloves off his enormous hands. He didn’t have the first fucking clue what was going on here, but Ace assumed that he was going to be hitting the floor next.
“Ace.” King’s tone was cordial as he pocketed the gloves in his jeans. “You and I need to have a little chat.” He nodded at the chair that Mac had just vacated. “Take a seat.”
Ace stumbled over, sat heavily. He stared up at the other men now and waited.
“So here’s the deal.” King narrowed his eyes. “You just killed your President.”
“I what?” Ace jumped to his feet. “I – I didn’t kill him!”
“Ah.” King nodded at the gun on the floor next to Trigger. “But isn’t that your gun?”
Astonished, Ace looked down at the gun that he hadn’t laid eyes on in more than five years. His mouth dropped open and he lunged forward. Right away, Jack moved closer, his gun almost touching Ace’s forehead.
“Sit your ass down,” Jack commanded softly.
Ace did as he said, too shocked to stand anyway. “You – you shot Trigger with that gun?” he croaked out.
“No.” King smiled. “You shot Trigger with that gun. I mean, there’s only one set of fingerprints on the weapon. One guess who they belong to.”
“Oh, fuck.” Ace shook his head, disbelieving at just how much worse his night had managed to get. “Oh, fuck.”
“Indeed,” Mac commented, removing the towel from his still-bleeding mouth for a second. “I’d say that sentiment is apt.”
“Now, this whole situation can go one of two ways,” King said. “You ready to hear what they are?”
Ace nodded.
“OK, good. So first: we’ll make an anonymous phone call to the cops and tell them about the tragic and mysterious death of yet another MC President. We’ll also very helpfully tell them where Trigger’s body is. We’ll bug out, the cops’ll turn up here, find the gun and the dead body. In the meantime, we’ll have dropped you off smack in the middle of a nearby field and we’ll make damn good and sure that you’re hurt too bad to run anywhere fast. We’ll call the cops again and inform them of your whereabouts and – if the mood strikes us – we may also
decide to call your clubhouse and fill your brothers in regarding your activities tonight. Then we’ll sit back and watch to see who shows up to get you first. One way or the other, you’ll be dragged off kicking and screaming and if you see the sunrise tomorrow, I’d call that nothing short of a miracle. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Pale, sick, Ace nodded again.
“Or.” King crossed his arms. “You can haul ass out of here and go on back to your clubhouse and wait for the news that Trigger’s body has turned up. Then, after an appropriately angry response that should include some gnashing of teeth and hollering about revenge, you’ll take over as MC President.”
The silence in the room was absolute. Ace stared fixedly at King, sure that he hadn’t heard him right. King stood there patiently, waiting for Ace to speak first.
“I don’t –” Ace cleared his throat. “I don’t understand.”
“Want me to explain the two options again?” King said, almost kindly. “I can use smaller words.”
“No, I mean... I don’t understand why you’re helping me.”
“Helping you?” King’s mouth curled up in disgust. “I’m not the slightest bit interested in helping you, you piece of human garbage.”
Ace paused. “So... so you want something from me, then.”
“Now you’re catching on,” King said.
“What? What do you want?”
“C’mon, Ace, you’re a smart guy.” King cocked his head. “Smarter than Trigger, anyway, though that ain’t hard to do. What do you think I want from you?”
Ace shook his head. “I really don’t know.”
“So let me clue you in, then,” King said. Slowly, deliberately, he walked closer to Ace and the smaller man shrank back. Matt Kingston angry was an awesome sight to behold, Ace was horrified to discover now. That huge body suddenly took up all the available space in the room, that hard face was devoid of any human kindness or compassion. Ace knew – knew in every inch of his trembling body – that he was staring at a man who’d snap his neck without a second thought... snap it and maybe even enjoy it. Ace was a bad man and King would take great delight in ridding the world of his odious presence; he’d probably never think of Ace again after he did it.
King stopped, regarded Ace’s terrified face. “You listening close now?”
Ace nodded, his throat jammed closed with fear.
“I want you to understand one thing, and one thing only.” King’s glare burned right through him. “I want you to understand that from now on, I own you.”
Mac grinned. This was the moment that he’d been waiting for.
“I’m so fucking sick of your goddamn MC,” King said softly. “I’m sick of you boys messing around in my life, and the lives of people that I care about. Donovan Kane shot me and held a knife to Sarah’s throat, and you dickheads buried Gabi alive and shot Aidan, you tried to kill Dillon and Maria, you tried to kill Mirrie, and now... now you’re going after Mac and Mirrie just because they want to be together? Well, I’ve had more than enough of your crap and since I own you, you’re gonna cut it all out and I mean starting right this minute.”
It was all starting to sink in for Ace, the other men saw. Their faces set, they waited some more.
Finally, he spoke. “You – you want to control the Fallen Angels through me.”
“There we go!” Jack said brightly. “Now we’re all on the same page.”
“You want me to stop working with Kirk Jensen, don’t you? You want me to take the club legit, right? Like Wolf Connor’s doing with the Road Devils?”
“Nope,” King said, surprising Ace. “No, I want you to keep your hands dirty with Jensen. You keep right on running his drugs and trafficking his sex workers and taking his contract kills and moving kidnapped kids for him.”
“But?” Ace said.
“But you tell me every move that asshole makes,” King said. “You share with me everything he tells you. Every name, every job, every place he’s got women and kids and drugs stashed. Everything you do for him and everything you decide to do on your own.”
“Jensen’ll figure it out,” Ace said, his lips numb with terror. “He’ll know that he has a traitor inside when jobs start going belly-up.”
“Then you’d better hope that you’re a good liar, Ace.” King’s face was granite. “If it makes you feel any better, I already know that you are. I know that your whole damn life is one huge lie.”
Ace looked up at him, wondering if King was talking about Spider.
“Yeah,” King said. “Yeah, I know all about him. He gave me the gun and we talked and he really seems to be a decent guy. What the hell he was doing with you, I’ll never understand.”
Ace shut his eyes, feeling oddly near tears.
“So I think you’ll be fine on the whole ‘lying to protect yourself’ front,” King told him. “Especially since any slip-ups will end with you hanging from a bridge somewhere with your insides on the outside. That’s a powerful motivator, yeah?”
Ace flinched. “Y – yes.”
“OK! So!” King clapped his hands together and Ace jumped. “You can just roll on out of here. Go back to your clubhouse and say that you had motorcycle trouble and you were waiting on word from Trigger about where to meet to kill Mac and where’s Trigger and blahblahblah. Don’t get drunk and don’t say one word to anyone.”
“I won’t. What about Joker, though? He’s waiting to grab the girl.”
“You heard Trigger, man. Joker’s waiting on his Prez’s call – a call that just isn’t going to come now, is it? So in about twenty minutes, you call him instead, ask him where Trigger is. Sound worried. Ask him to stand down for now. You’re VP, man, he’ll listen to you.”
“And soon enough word about Trigger being dead will get out and he’ll leave the apartment building,” Ace said slowly. “She’ll never know he was there.”
“See?” King put the gloves back on now, picked up the gun. “I told you that you were smart.”
“What are you going to do with it?” Ace asked him. “The gun?”
“Oh, don’t you worry,” King said. “It’ll be someplace very safe. It won’t turn up unless I want it to.” He smiled. “So don’t make me want that, OK?”
“OK,” Ace muttered.
King nodded at Jack, who put a surgical glove on his right hand. He then produced a cell from his jeans pocket, handed it over to Ace.
“Jack here’ll be your direct contact with King’s Men,” King explained. “Keep this burner on you at all times and you answer it when it rings. No bullshit excuses, no avoiding Jack’s calls. You two will meet when and where he says and you’ll be punctual and polite at all such meetings. You’ll answer every single one of his questions honestly and fully. If you don’t or if you lie, he’ll know, believe me, and he’ll tell me that you’re being difficult to get along with. Then? I’ll be very angry with you. Maybe even angry enough to let something slip in the wrong company. We clear?”
“Yes.” Ace stared at the ground, already feeling like he was suffocating. “Yes, I understand everything.”
“Awesome.” King looked over at Mac. “Anything to add, man?”
Mac had observed King demolish Ace with pure, unadulterated enjoyment. He grinned at his friend and shook his head. “No, I’m good. I just want to get home to Mirrie.”
“Hospital first,” King said. “We need to get you checked out.” When Mac opened his mouth to protest, King cut him off. “Shut it, MacIntyre, we’re going. Mirrie’s sleeping and she thinks you’re on a red eye to New Orleans right now. A few more hours aren’t going to make any difference and you know it.”
“Yeah.” Mac realized that, as always, King was bang-on correct. “Yeah, OK. The hospital.”
“I’ll take you myself,” King said. “As soon as Honey and Knox get here to back up Jack. The three of them will be escorting Ace back t
o his clubhouse. Just in case he gets any bright ideas, you know.”
“No need,” Ace protested. “I mean, you’ve got me by the fucking balls, man... I ain’t going anywhere but to the clubhouse. You can call off the security detail.”
“Well, maybe think of it as a private escort service,” King said jovially. “One worthy of a future President.”
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning, Mirrie was drinking a cup of coffee and trying to think just where the hell she’d put her cell phone this time when she heard keys in the lock. Startled, she jumped to her feet. When Shane walked in and she saw his face, she gave a sharp cry.
“Shane!” She rushed over to him, took in his battered face. “What happened? Are you OK?”
“Hey, babe.” He set his duffel bag down on the floor with a grimace. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“What – what the hell?” She shook her head, bewildered. “Why aren’t you in New Orleans?”
“It’s a long story, Mirrie.” Mac shrugged off his jean jacket and winced. “Can we sit down?”
“Yeah.” She took his hand and led him over to the sofa slowly, saw how he was limping. “Or maybe you want to lie down?”
“No, I’ve been on my back at the hospital all night.” He sat with a groan. “I’d rather sit up.”
“You’ve been in the hospital? All night?” Now her eyes were showing a flash of hurt. “And you didn’t call me?”
“No, babe. I’m sorry, but I didn’t.”
“Why not?” Her tone was measured but he sensed the growing confusion and anger behind it. “What have you been up to?”
Mac paused now, suddenly terrified and on unknown ground. Jack had successfully predicted and manipulated every move in this twisted, fucked-up chess game, but from here on in, Mac had no clue what might happen. He was sure that Mirrie was going to be angry – no, scratch that… she’s gonna be furious – that he’d done all of this without including her. But what was she going to do and say when she was angry? Was she going to be able to get past his lies and everything that he’d withheld? Was she going to understand and forgive him this time?
Gentle Curves (Dangerous Curves Book 4) Page 15