Molly gasped at his pinpoint assessment, her gaze wide as she turned to meet his stare.
“Yes,” she admitted. Always.
“You’re not still afraid of him, are you?” Dalton lowered his tone and shifted as close as the seat belt would allow.
“No,” she insisted, and her tone was genuine enough. “It’s not that. It’s just… I don’t like letting him down.”
Dalton reached for Molly’s arm. “You’re not,” he told her gently. “Don’t think that way.”
She glanced toward Marco warily before her gaze darted back to his.
“But I’m not doing what I’m told,” she conceded in a tiny voice. “He asked me to make sure you stayed at the hospital and look…” She sighed, gesturing around the car. “I couldn’t even do that.”
He’ll be so disappointed in me.
Dalton squeezed her shoulder affectionately. “Molly. Molly, look at me.” Slowly, she lifted her chin. “You’re doing the right thing, and he’ll understand. Eventually.”
She laughed, but Dalton didn’t have to read her mind to know she was still uncertain.
“If anything happens to you, Connor will never forgive me.”
“Nothing is going to happen to me.” He ensured he met her worried gaze. “We’re just going there to see what’s going on and if we can help. That’s all. That’s it. Hopefully, we drive the route and find nothing. Hopefully, it’s all over by now.”
Dalton glanced down at his watch. It had taken forever to get out of the freaking hospital, and it was already past nine.
“And if it’s not over?” Her voice trembled with the question.
What if there’s a shootout? What if Connor has been hurt? What if something has happened to—
“Then we’ll be there to help.” Dalton intentionally cut off her rambling thought process. “Gavin can provide muscle power, and we have another vehicle to make a getaway. Those are never bad things to have.”
“I guess,” she said on one long sigh, her attention turning back to the window.
“Do you actually want to drive into Mr. Hyland’s jurisdiction, sir?” Marco glanced into the rear-view mirror, meeting Dalton’s gaze.
He understood only too well the types of negative consequences that could occur if one of Saul Morrison’s cars was detected on the wrong side of town.
“No, there’s no need.” Whatever Connor and Saul had planned, they wouldn’t have been foolish enough to have designed it in Hyland’s territory. “Skirt around and join the route as close as you can to his domain.”
“Understood, sir.”
Dalton reached into his pocket for his cell phone. It had been switched off for a week, but the screen burst to life as he pressed the power key. As soon as the home screen was available, he unlocked the device and opened Google. In this day and age, there was only one way to know what was going on in the city—social media.
Incident in the center of London.
Dalton typed the search into Google and waited as the results flashed up in front of him. His heart hammered as his gaze devoured the first three.
Car attack in London sees shots fired!
Police suspect terror plot in latest London attack
Car rammed as armed suspects cause chaos in the capital.
With shaky fingers, he clicked the first link, his gaze scanning for the name of a location for something—anything—they could use to find Connor and Delilah. It took another ten seconds before he found what he was looking for.
The incident, reported on Twitter as in Mayfair just moments ago, was…
Mayfair.
Dalton looked up from his phone. “Marco.” His heart raced as the older man met his gaze in the reflection. “I know where we have to go. Take us to Mayfair.”
Chapter Eleven
Connor
All things considered, the plan had gone like a dream. Marks had executed a superb job of ramming the side of Hyland’s car, and even though the second vehicle still wasn’t where it needed to be, the initial shock gave Connor enough time to jump out of the passenger seat and around to the back of the smashed vehicle. By the time he approached the car, Kenny had engaged and plowed into the other side of the stylish black sedan. Connor smiled as he neared, weapon locked and loaded. Over the din of the early morning engines and gasps from onlookers, he’d heard the throaty growl of one of the men beyond the door, and instinct had taken over. Pulling the door open, he’d shoved the gun at him.
“I wouldn’t go anywhere if I were you.”
The bastard turned to look at him, and Connor jabbed the end of the weapon harder into his skin.
“Get your hands in the air.”
He couldn’t see any of the other people in the car, but vaguely, he caught sight of a scantily dressed woman, and anger burned through his veins. For a second, he considered just pulling the trigger and blowing the fucker away.
“All of you.”
Connor glanced briefly at Mitchell, who was out of their second car and making his way to the front of Hyland’s vehicle, his gun also aimed at the car. That meant, with Wallace and Marks, he was covered by The Syndicate on both sides.
It was time to get this job done.
“Whoever you’re working for, I hope they’re worth it.” The ugly git with his hands in the air in front of him sneered at him. “Because you’re a dead man.”
Connor’s eyes narrowed. “Think again.”
He shoved the barrel of the weapon harder into the back of the idiot’s head, gesturing for Mitchell to make a move on the other side of the car. A few seconds later, the sound of shattered glass reverberated around the gray city as his colleague smashed straight through the rear window. A woman’s muffled scream filled up the air, sending Connor’s heart racing. That definitely sounded like Delilah, and she was either fuming with anger or downright petrified.
“Don’t even think about doing anything stupid like reaching for your weapons.” Mitchell’s voice echoed from the other side of the vehicle. “Do as you’re told, and this will all be over and done with.”
Connor nodded, emboldened by the urgent need to get Delilah out.
“Get out and down on your knees. Hands behind your head.” He shouted the command to the guy who was about to stare down the barrel of Connor’s gun, jabbing him with the weapon just because he fucking could. “Now.”
Slowly he turned, his gaze taking in Delilah before he met Connor’s eyes. Cold, brown eyes glared at him as he eased out of the car backward. Connor had seen enough, and unthinkingly, he caught the guy with one of his martial arts kicks, bringing him to his knees in an instant. It had been a while since Connor had seen any action like this, and as he pressed the gun at the loser’s temple, his body was pumped full of adrenaline.
Kenny advanced toward the kneeling man, the butt of his gun poised and ready to pistol whip the fucker into tomorrow. That had been the plan—no one needed to die if Hyland’s men played nicely.
Just get in and get the hell out.
“Do it.”
Connor was almost excited as he growled the order at him. He watched Kenny raise the gun over the idiot’s head, his gaze flitting between the kneeling guy and Connor.
“We don’t have time for this shit.” Connor’s jaw clenched with impatience. “Just do it.”
He covered the open door, watching as Kenny finally brought the wrong end of his weapon down on the guy’s skull. There was a flicker of pain in those brown eyes, and then he collapsed to the concrete like a sack of potatoes.
Connor smiled at Kenny. “Get around there and cover me. He won’t be out for long.”
Kenny exhaled, but he was already on his way, running around to cover the remaining conscious rivals. That left Connor to get the job done.
It was time to rescue Delilah.
Bending, so he could look into the back of the car, his gaze landed on her. She was practically naked, bound, and gagged, and her eyes widened like teacups as she took in his face.
“Hello, Delilah.”
For some reason, he threw her one of his most devasting smiles, the look of her struggling in the bondage sending fire into his already volatile bloodstream. “Time to get you back to my brother.”
“You’re in deep shit,” the idiot beyond Delilah replied, despite the fact he now had more than one gun ready to send him into oblivion. “Just you fucking wait.”
Connor sighed. This whole testosterone-fueled performance was getting kinda dull. It was time this was over. He needed to get to the hospital. He needed to get back to Molly. “Wallace, can you do the honors?”
Lowering his gun, he gestured for Delilah to come to him and hurriedly, she flung her legs into the empty footwell and eased herself along the leather seat toward him just as Wallace brought his handgun down onto the other guy’s head and sent him into dreamland.
“Kenny, your car looks to still be in reasonable nick, get it started. We’re out of here.”
Kenny nodded, running the short distance to the waiting car and starting the engine. Connor reached for Delilah, tugging the black plastic from her mouth.
“Connor.” She shook her head as though he was merely a hallucination.
He wasn’t sure anyone had ever been so glad to see him before—except maybe his little kitten.
“Time to leave, Delilah. Can you walk?”
She nodded. “Yes, I can.”
“Okay.”
He slung his gun over his shoulder and helped her out of the back of the car. The city had come to life all around him, there were people on cell phones while others cowered in obvious fear, and from somewhere in the distance, a siren blared. The police’s armed response units were becoming faster than ever these days, and he didn’t fancy getting into a gunfight with the cops.
“I’ll take her.” Wallace emerged from the other side of the vehicle, ushering Delilah into the back of car two.
A pained groan caught Connor’s attention from the ground, and he glanced down to see the first idiot rousing. With a sigh, he brought the butt of his own gun down upon his forehead, ending his attempted resistance.
“Am I going to have any problems with you, arsehole?” He glared at the driver, still sitting in the front seat with his hands in the air.
“N-No,” he mumbled. “No, I won’t do anything. Just go.”
“With pleasure.”
Connor retreated, punching Marks’ number into his cell and calling the driver waiting in the car he’d arrived in.
“Connor?” He answered after one ring of the dialing tone.
“We’re ready to roll,” he told him, backing into the waiting car, which now housed Delilah. “I’m with Kenny and Wallace. Is the car okay?”
From the other side of Hyland’s battered car, he heard Marks rev the engine.
“Seems okay.”
Relief flooded Connor’s body. “Good. Take everyone else and get out of here. The cops are on their way.”
He slammed the door closed behind him, and Kenny floored the gas. Immediately the car burst into reverse, smashing past any cars which stood in its way.
“Try not to kill any fucking members of the public,” said Connor with a sigh as he tried to steady Delilah’s body. “You know how Saul gets about that kind of shit.”
Wallace laughed from the front seat. “Don’t worry,” he glanced over his shoulder at Connor. “I asked the bystanders to kindly make some space before you climbed in.”
Connor chuckled. “Managed to persuade them, did you?”
“Yeah,” Wallace confirmed. “The gun helped.”
“Oh, I bet.”
Kenny turned the wheel at that moment, mounting the curb before he steered hard in the opposite direction. The change of tact sent Delilah crashing back into Connor’s body again.
“For fuck’s sake,” she cried. “Connor, can you please get these fucking ropes off me?”
He smiled at her. It wasn’t usually in Connor Reilly’s interest to remove such stringent bondage from ladies, but Delilah’s frustrated plea resounded. “Sure,” he replied as she shifted her body left to aid his pursuit. “And don’t worry. It’s all over now, Delilah. I’ll have you back to The Syndicate as soon as Kenny can get us there.”
She stretched her head back. “But what about Dalton?”
“He’s fine now,” Connor reassured her. “It was touch and go for a while, but, like you, he’s strong.”
“Thank fuck.”
“Of course, there was also the fact that I didn’t give him permission to die.” Connor loosened the coarse ropes at her delicate wrists, unraveling the binds until they fell loose on the back seat between them.
Delilah laughed as she lifted her hands and rubbed her wrists. “What?”
Connor shook his head. “It’s a long story. Here, take this.”
He shrugged off his jacket and passed it to Delilah. “Until we get you back, at least.”
She flashed him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Connor. You know, I wasn’t sure about you at first, but I guess I was wrong. You’re a good guy.”
Delilah slipped her arms into his jacket and fastened up the buttons at the front.
“I’m not sure about that.” Connor wanted to laugh at her assessment. “I think you might change your mind if you knew more about me.”
Her brow rose, but Delilah didn’t comment at first. “Maybe,” she concluded in the end. “But, for sure, you’re my hero.”
Connor snickered. Him—a hero? That was a sick joke.
“Put your safety belt on,” he told her as the car raced on through London’s busy streets. Kenny wasn’t waiting in line, and between the other road users and the curb, it was one hell of a bumpy ride.
“Is that an order, sir?” Delilah flashed him a salacious grin as she fastened the belt around her, and he snorted at her audacity.
“You’re damn right it is. Until I get you back to Dalton, you’re my responsibility.”
Chapter Twelve
Zander Hyland
Zander’s car was crawling through Belgravia when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Checking his watch, his brow furrowed. There were no conversations scheduled for this early in the morning, so whoever this was would likely be bearing bad news. Zander reached for the device, his heart pounding faster at the sight of Lauper’s name.
“Craig, how are you?”
Zander was in a reasonable mood after his morning massage. Of course, it also helped that the lovely Michelle had cleaned and polished his cock like a good slut, and now he was set for the day. And anyhow, he liked Craig Lauper.
Zander saw real potential in the guy.
“Mr. Hyland.” Lauper sounded nervous. “I’m sorry to bother you.”
“Don’t be.” Zander glanced out of the window at the passing streets. “That’s what I’m here for. What’s happened? Are you bored with our little redhead?”
“Actually, that’s what I’m calling about.”
“Delilah?” His gut clenched at the name. Everything that woman touched turned into a nightmare.
“Yes, sir. I was wondering if there was a problem. She hasn’t arrived, and usually, the guys have delivered her by now.”
Instinctively, Zander’s gaze landed over his expensive wristwatch. It was almost half-past nine. He would certainly have expected Delilah to have been in Lauper’s possession by now.
“There’s no issue I’m aware of, but let me check. Perhaps one of them got desperate and decided to fuck her on the way.” He laughed at the idea, imagining how pleased the whore would have been. “I’ll check in with them now and text you an ETA.”
“Okay, thank you, sir. That’ll be great.” Lauper sounded genuinely grateful.
Hell, he must really like redheads, but no matter how much he lusted after Delilah, today would be the last day Lauper would have her. It was time the whore started making herself useful, and despite the fact she did nothing for Zander at all, he knew he could use her to make money. Other men seemed to find her desirable. And they’d pay for the pleasure of screwing her.
Zander cut the call with a sigh, glancing up to find his car stuck in a wall of London traffic.
It was just as well he liked Lauper because frankly, this sort of shit was well below his pay grade. Searching through his contact list, he hit Lombard’s number and waited as it dialed. The call rang six times before it cut to his voicemail, and Zander’s brow furrowed again.
Voicemail?
He never had to leave messages for anyone.
All of his guys knew if Zander Hyland called, you answered the damn phone—whatever you were doing—and the fact Lombard hadn’t, sent the first knots of anxiety creeping into his muscles.
Something could be wrong.
Something could be very wrong, and it was time he found out.
The buzzing in his hands caused Zander to nearly dropped the device altogether, and frantically, his gaze searched the caller idea. He expected to see Lombard’s name there. The man would be full of contrition for missing Zander’s call, but to his surprise, it wasn’t Lombard at all. It was the other idiot he worked with, Starr.
“Starr.” Zander’s tone was curt. “I just tried Lombard. Lauper says you haven’t shown at his place yet. What the fuck is going on?”
“Mr. Hyland.” Starr was out of breath, his voice hoarse and strained. “I’m sorry. I had to wait until the coast was clear until I called.”
Zander’s free hand balled into a fist. “What’s happening?”
“They attacked us.”
“Who?” Zander practically shouted the word down the phone.
“I didn’t recognize the ring-leader, boss, but I knew a couple of faces. They were Morrison’s men.”
A spike of fury surged from within Zander. Fucking Saul Morrison. That man was the bane of his life.
“They smashed into our vehicle on both sides. They had guns, and they took the girl.”
“You have guns, you idiot,” Zander snarled. “What do I pay you for?”
“I… we didn’t expect it.” Starr sounded pitiful. “And by the time we could defend ourselves, we had automatic weapons in our faces. They left me unconscious, and by the time I came around, they were gone, but the cops were on their way, so I just legged it.”
Tested: The Dark Necessities—Dalton's Tale #3 Page 8