Zander shook his head. “And the others?”
“The fuzz will have taken them. I’m sorry.”
“Where are you now?” He lifted his hand to his temple and rubbed the tension growing there. So much for the massage. Zander had never felt less relaxed.
“I’m hiding just off Park Street. Some people must have seen me running away, and I reckon the cops will be keeping a lookout.”
Zander’s gaze searched his current location. “I’m just past Hyde Park Corner,” he told Starr. “Send me your location when I hang up and stay put. We’ll come and pick you up.”
“Thanks, boss.”
As Zander cut the call, he gritted his teeth until they ground together. No wonder Lauper had called to query Delilah’s whereabouts. The whore had never got there because Morrison had made some grand attempt at rescuing her, and by all accounts, he’d succeeded, taking out one of Zander’s cars and a couple of his men in the process.
Pressing the intercom button, he growled at the driver. “We need to make a quick stop at Park street and collect Fox Starr.”
Starr’s location arrived on his device at that moment. Fortunately, he was at The Dorchester end, which meant it wasn’t so far away from where Zander currently was. “I’m Bluetoothing you the exact location.”
“Yes, sir.” Cole nodded, Starr’s locality appearing on his console as he met Zander’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. “I’ll get around the traffic as best I can.”
Zander’s lips curled. It seemed only Craig Lauper could be relied on these days.
***
Within fifteen minutes, Starr was seated in the back of the luxury car, alongside Zander. His hands were shaking as he recounted the events which had led to Delilah’s departure.
“I swear we never saw it coming, boss.”
The man looked dazed as he implored Zander, and there was the beginning of what would be a huge bruise at his forehead. He was probably suffering from a concussion.
“Of course not.” Zander’s nostrils flared as he glanced out into the vast expanse of Hyde Park. “You weren’t supposed to—that was the point. They must have known your route somehow and been tracking the car.”
“But how?”
“I don’t know how.” Zander scowled, though even as he snarled the words, it was a lie.
He did know.
There was only one way it was possible Morrison could have known the route. He must have a mole in Hyland’s organization—someone who was working for Zander but feeding information back to Morrison on demand. He inhaled at the thought.
Zander was going to find out who the son of a bitch was, and he’d make him sorry.
He’d have someone’s balls for this.
Hell, Zander would make the moron beg to have them fed to him.
And as for Morrison, that idiot was going to regret the day he went to war over the whore. It was time to bring down the whole fucking Syndicate.
“I’m sorry, boss.”
Zander glanced back toward Starr, and he could tell the younger guy’s contrition was genuine.
“I should probably have stayed and helped the others, but I heard the sirens, and I panicked.”
Zander shook his head. “It’s okay. I’ve already texted my lawyer, and he’s on the way down to the cop shop. We’ll have them out soon.”
Starr gulped. “Okay, boss.”
“You did the right thing,” Zander insisted. “There would have been no benefit in you getting arrested, too, Starr. You got out and raised the alarm. Looks like the medics should check you over, though.”
He gingerly lifted his hand to his temple. “I’m fine,” he lied, wincing as his fingertips brushed over the place the gun had knocked him out.
“Get it checked regardless. I need you fit.”
Starr nodded. “Okay, Mr. Hyland. I will.”
Zander sighed. Fox Starr was young, but he wasn’t useless. “Tell me again about the guys who did this. I’m sure I know the bastards.”
Zander knew virtually every guy on Morrison’s payroll, and he never forgot a face.
Starr screwed his features into a ball. “I didn’t recognize the one who seemed to be in charge,” he admitted again. “He was quite young—maybe a few years older than me. Tall, dark hair and fierce green eyes.”
Zander slammed his fist down into the leather upholstery between them, the gesture making Starr jump. “Green eyes?” he shouted the question at the wide-eyed Starr. “You’re sure they were green?”
Starr nodded. “Yes, boss. They were really striking.”
“Connor Reilly.” He growled. “Those fucking Reilly arseholes.”
The car came to a halt on Piccadilly, and it was then that the sleek, black sedan on the other side of the road caught his attention. His gaze flitted to the registration plate, and in an instant, Zander knew it was one of Morrison’s.
“Stop.” He hissed the word into the intercom. “Pull over. I know that car.”
Cole responded immediately, pulling out of the line of traffic and parking the vehicle across the road from the sedan.
“Who is it, boss?” Starr asked.
“It belongs to Morrison. If we’re lucky, Connor and company might still be in the area.”
Zander’s lips curled at the notion. He had a team based near The Ritz and could have support here within a few minutes, and he was just in the mood for a fight.
With a couple of texts, he sent the instruction, his focus entirely on the car sitting on the other side of the busy street.
“Are you sure it’s them?” Starr sounded worried.
“It’s definitely one of them.” Zander’s voice was like an animal growling. “I know that plate and hell, I can smell those bastards from here.”
Starr swallowed with obvious skepticism, but he scarcely even noticed. All of Zander’s attention was on the black car, and as the back door opened, he held his breath.
Chapter Thirteen
Molly
“Dalton, please!”
They’d been parked on the side of Piccadilly for more than twenty minutes, and Molly was worried. They should never have left the hospital—she should never have let Dalton persuade her, but it was more than just the state of her arse once Connor found out that was on her mind as she made the plea. Molly was genuinely concerned about Dalton’s health. He was clearly in pain and apparently, getting weaker with each breath.
“Let’s just go back home if you won’t go back to the hospital.”
“No.” His tone was resolute, although his body language said differently. Leaning against the back seat, he looked weary. “No, Delilah was here. I have to help her.”
Molly clasped her phone as the guilt twisted in her belly. “At least let me try Connor again,” she implored Dalton.
“You called him already,” he said with a sigh. “We both have.”
“But maybe they were in the middle of it then, you know, maybe they were getting away, and perhaps it’s all over now?”
“So, why hasn’t he called you back?”
Dalton’s question sucked the air out of the car, the query which had already been bouncing around her head now echoing around the interior as well.
“He will,” she replied, but even Molly wasn’t convinced by her tone.
She glanced down at her phone in desperation. Oh God, why hasn’t he called me back?
At that moment, the device burst into life, and Connor’s handsome face flashed up on her screen. Molly was so shocked she almost dropped the phone, before relief washed over her.
“Master? Are you okay? I’ve been so worried.”
“Hey, kitten.” He sounded tired, but God, it was good to hear from him. “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch until now. How’s Dalton? Have you managed to speak to the doctors?”
Remorse flooded her bloodstream and acting on reflex, she bit down at her lower lip.
“Er, we’re not actually at the hospital anymore.” Molly’s trepidation sky-rocketed at the radio s
ilence on the other end of the line. “Master, are you there?”
“What do you mean, you’re not at the hospital?”
“Let me speak to him.” Dalton sighed as though he could hear every word Connor said.
Molly shook her head. “I’m sorry, Master.” She loathed how pathetic she sounded. “Dalton wanted to leave when he heard about Delilah and…” Her voice trailed away.
“And you didn’t stop him?”
She gasped at how angry Connor sounded just as Dalton lurched for the handset and snatched it from her fingers.
“Dalton, no!”
But it was too late. Weak, he might be, but Dalton was strong enough to grasp the device from her.
“Connor, it’s me. Don’t give Molly any bullshit about this. It was my idea. I made her come along.”
There was a pause while he listened to Connor’s reply, although frustratingly, she couldn’t hear what Connor said.
“That’s crap.” Dalton rolled his eyes. “I was leaving today, anyway, and you know it. All I asked Molly to do was be honest with me—something apparently I can’t expect from my brother.”
She sucked her lower lip between her teeth as she watched Dalton close his eyes.
“Blah, blah, blah, little brother,” he retorted. “You could have let me know if you’d wanted to. You knew I would want to be there.”
Dalton hesitated, as though he’d been interrupted. “You did?”
His eyes widened. “And how is she? Can you put her on, please?”
He sighed. “Yes, okay, I admit, it sounds like you managed just fine without me. Please, just let me speak to Delilah for a moment, then I’ll get the car headed straight for The Syndicate again.”
Another pause.
“Thank you, Connor.”
Dalton leaned in toward Molly, his hand covering the receiver. “I’m just going to pop out and speak to Delilah for a moment, then we’ll head back.”
She nodded, though it did little to reassure her about Connor’s state of mind.
“Don’t worry about Connor.”
Molly blinked at Dalton. Yet again, the man seemed to have read her mind. “He’s pissed, but I’ll handle him. You’re not in trouble.”
She wasn’t sure she believed that, but as Dalton stepped out of the car into the daylight, she resolved it didn’t matter. Molly was a big girl and knew all about Connor’s wrath. She’d made the choice to divulge the plan to Dalton, and now, she’d have to accept the consequences. At least it sounded like Connor had Delilah back, and now, with Dalton on the mend, things could hopefully start to get back to normal.
Molly sighed as she leaned back against the leather.
Normal.
That was a relative concept where life with Connor Reilly was concerned, but she had to be honest, she’d never been happier. She loved Connor with all her heart, and he fulfilled her in a way no one else ever had.
Hell, she doubted anyone else could.
She smiled as that idea resonated.
Molly was probably going to have her arse splintered for aiding and abetting Dalton this morning, yet somehow, she didn’t care. She’d be back with her master, and everyone would be safe. After everything they had all been through recently, that counted for a lot.
“Hey!”
She turned her head at the sound of Dalton’s voice, her heart hammering inside her chest.
“Hey, get off me!”
His voice was coming from the door nearest to her, presumably because he had wandered to the sidewalk while he chatted with Delilah, but even through the glass, she could tell there was panic in his tone, and any sign of panic in Dalton’s voice was not good news.
Not good news at all.
“I’ve had just about enough of you fucking Reillys.”
Molly heard the threat in the unknown voice loud and clear, and as she pressed the intercom to speak to the driver, his door burst open, and large, unknown hands dragged him from behind the wheel.
Frantically, Molly reached for the door handle, but just as she was about to open it, someone crashed against the glass.
She leapt back, heart racing as her eyes realized what was happening behind the dark glass. Someone had been flung against it—someone tall, heavy, and wearing a light shirt.
Dread washed over her.
Dalton!
Dalton had been wearing a light shirt, and Marco had been in a dark jacket.
“I heard your brother just took what belonged to me, so it’s opportune we should bump into you.”
“Fuck you,” Dalton hissed. “Delilah was never yours.”
The dull thud of flesh against flesh reverberated from above the car door, and Molly’s belly turned.
Oh God! Oh God, they were in trouble! Dalton was in trouble, and he had her bloody phone. There was nothing Molly could do to help. She couldn’t even call Connor!
Trying to ignore her thundering heartbeat, she inched along the leather seat toward the door Dalton had left from. If she could slip out unnoticed, she could get somewhere safe. She could get in touch with Connor and Saul somehow. Trembling fingers reached for the door release, and with a deep breath, she grasped it, inching the door open.
“He looks worse than I feel!”
The deep resonance of a male voice she didn’t recognize was audible from the other side of the car.
“Shame.” There was the timbre she had heard from inside the vehicle. “I’d have preferred him in top condition, but whatever, we’ll take him as he is.”
Molly had heard enough. She had to get away and raise the alarm before something awful happened to Dalton. Stepping out of the door, one, then both feet reached the road outside before she slowly shifted her weight and crept from the car. Molly still didn’t know London well, but she knew there was a tube station on virtually every street. If she could just find one of those, she could ask the staff for help. Warily, she pulled the door closed, keeping low as her gaze looked for the nearest station.
“And what’s this?”
In her desperate search for help, she hadn’t seen the stranger’s approach, but he loomed over, tall and foreboding with a wicked smirk etched into his features. Molly rose to her full height and ran. She lurched forward, unthinkingly darting in the path of an oncoming car. The driver blared his horn at her just as a large hand yanked her back toward the true danger.
“Oh, no.” The smirking man laughed. “You’re not going anywhere, pretty.”
He clutched the back of her blouse as though she was a small child, and instinctively, Molly fought to be free.
“Help!” she screamed for all she was worth.
It was morning in the city, and there were people around—plenty of them. Surely, one of them would hear her and come to assist? Surely, one passing motorist would see the fear in her eyes and call the police?
“That’s enough of that.” His large palm slid over her mouth as he pulled her out of the way. “Starr, get this door open.”
Another guy appeared from the path. He was younger, but his dark eyes lit up at the sight of Molly’s predicament before he did as he was asked. She froze at the look of him. Molly hadn’t known panic as paralyzing as this since Connor had taken her, and however terrifying that had been at the time, she doubted she would fare as well in this situation. In the end, Connor had softened, and she had fallen for him. Only a cursive glance was needed to ascertain that wouldn’t be true for either of these men. As soon as the door was open, Molly was pushed back inside before it was slammed closed behind her.
“Let me out!” She turned, thrusting her fists against the glass in desperate rage. “Let me out, you bastards!”
“Settle down.”
She spun in the seat to see another unknown face in the driver’s seat. The guy was bald and waved a gun in her direction. Molly’s heart stopped beating at the sight of the weapon. She hadn’t been exposed to guns since she was in the United States, and she liked the sight of them here even less.
“You don’t want
to wake up sleeping beauty, do you?” He gestured toward the back seat, and for the first time, Molly glanced next to her to find Dalton unconscious against the black leather.
“Oh God!” she gasped, sliding toward him. “Dalton. What have they done to you?”
Both of his eyes were swollen where something had collided with them, and his lip was bleeding. His hands were cuffed in front of him. Molly’s tummy knotted with fresh dread as the door behind her opened.
“Let’s get out of here, Cole.” The smirking man slid in beside her, directing the instruction to the guy behind the wheel as the other cruel-looking one climbed into the front seat. “Starr, call my office and get someone to collect our car. We’ll take this one as recompense for the vehicle Morrison wrecked earlier.”
“Yes, boss.”
The younger guy flashed her an errant grin before he went to work on his phone.
For one moment, Molly recalled her own device, her gaze flitting to Dalton, who was the last person to have used it.
“Looking for this?”
She glanced back at the older man to see him waving the handset tauntingly. As he waved it in the air, the device started to ring again, and without hesitation, he ended the call and switched it off.
“That’s my phone,” she said accusingly, knowing instinctively, it would be Connor on the end of the line. Dalton was speaking to Delilah when this started, and between the two of them, they’d have realized something was wrong.
The thought gave her a glimmer of hope, despite the way the bastard’s lips curled.
“If you want it, come over here and get it, sweetheart.”
Molly shuddered at the thinly veiled threat. She dreaded to think what he was going to do with her, but she certainly wasn’t going to come over there willingly. She wasn’t going to make it easy for the bastard.
“Who are you?” Her voice was a low hiss.
“Of course,” he replied, slipping her device into his shirt pocket. “How rude of me not to make a proper introduction. I am Zander Hyland, and who may I ask, are you?”
Molly’s hands rose to her mouth to conceal the gasp at her lips.
Tested: The Dark Necessities—Dalton's Tale #3 Page 9