Delta_Ricochet

by Cristin Harber

  He didn’t respond.

  “Every reporter—” Adelia shot her hand behind her, nearly out of breath. “The ones for TV shows and magazines, the newspapers, they’re covering a lie.”

  Jimmy casually pulled a pack of smokes from inside his suit coat. “Who are you?” He wasn’t accusatory or disbelieving, just curious-sounding.

  “I’m just a person—” She choked up. “Someone needs to stop her, and I thought I could slay the monster, but…”

  He sucked his cheeks in thought. “Smoke?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Jimmy shook out a cigarette for himself and lit it, pocketing the pack and inhaling. Adelia watched, wondering what he thought and why he didn’t say anything.

  “So?” she finally said, wondering if she’d told the wrong person or if he wouldn’t believe her, just like Colin hadn’t.

  “Got anything to go on?”

  Her head dropped back and hope surged. He didn’t discount what she’d said simply because it was Gloria Astor! “I have a recording where she explains why she does it.”

  Jimmy’s hand still mid-way to take another drag. “No shit?”

  She nodded. “Yeah.”

  “How are you still alive?”

  “She doesn’t know. Too cocky to assume I’d be that stupid, maybe. And I’ll be dead by morning. Too many others have me on their kill lists.”

  He cocked his head. “That’s a shame. I like your spunk.”

  Adelia snickered. “Yeah, me too.”

  “Now’s this is when everything becomes a pain in the ass.” Jimmy pointed his cigarette at her. “I don’t pay, and I don’t—”

  “I don’t want anything from you.”

  His eyes narrowed. “No such thing as a free lunch.”

  “Except—”

  “See.” He pointed a finger at her. “Never that easy.”

  “I left a message for my…” The title thing again. Why did she keep walking into this? “For a guy named Colin on the recording, and I want him to hear it. There’s a note to him with the location of the tape. The concierge has it. As long as Colin hears what I have to say to him, oh, and my brother, too, then I don’t want anything else. Tell the world.”

  He took a drag. “You’re for real, aren’t you?”

  She nodded.

  “You left messages for your brother and your boyfriend on the tape?”

  “Yeah, Colin is my boyfriend, my everything.”

  “I’ll make sure they hear it privately.”

  “Thanks.” Adelia took a deep breath, feeling as though a weight had been pried from her shoulders and turned.

  “Hey, monster slayer?”

  She paused, looking over her shoulder. “Hm?”

  “You know what kind of problems you’re about to cause?”

  Shivers rolled down her arms. “The good kind.”

  Jimmy’s hard face softened, and his lips curled into an honest smile. “Good luck tonight, kid.”

  “Thanks.” She was going to need it.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  The Stanley Hotel came into view on Colin’s cell phone screen. Only a few more gridlocked blocks to go. “Almost there.”

  “Yup,” Deacon rubbed his hands together. “Deal with this shit, and high tail back to the tropics. I did not sign up for a road trip with you.”

  “Buddy, I didn’t offer.” The tension had increased with every mile they’d driven until Colin considered running off the side of the road for no other reason than to get the hell away from Deacon. The guy had an opinion on everything.

  Almost everything. He’d been surprisingly easy to put up with during the simple planning conversation on how they’d handle the hotel, Gloria, and Adelia.

  The remaining time, Deacon opined on every job he knew of Delta’s while Colin spent time searching for subtle ways to signal to Titan Group that he was in the mix of some major shit. Colin’s biggest worry had been triggering Deacon’s internal red alert. The man was a finely tuned operative, and even when he relaxed, Colin was certain that he could jump to full-fledged mercenary in a blink.

  He slowed at a stoplight. The Stanley Hotel stood impressively ahead as they crept closer, and a few blocks down, Astor Towers reigned even higher. New York traffic honked and inched around them. Bikers raced down the lanes, weaving in and out of stalled traffic, and hordes of people crossed at the walks, a mix of tourist and business clothes mixed into a mosh pit of churning bodies.

  “This is me.” Deacon reached for the door, unbuckling. “Buzz your burner in a bit.”

  “Wait a minute.” Son of a bitch. “You’re an asshole.”

  Deacon stepped into the street but ducked down. “Then again, what’s new?” With two pats on top of the roof, he signaled his goodbye and shut the door, jogging onto the sidewalk and melting into the crowd.

  One in a city of millions. The man was gone with an untraceable burner phone. Colin never should’ve trusted the guy. He should call into Delta or Titan HQ, but what did it matter now.

  He drummed on the steering wheel. “Damn it!” The light turned green, and Colin laid on his horn along with everyone else. Not even an inch. “Move over!” He waved people at the corner back. “Back up.” They didn’t move. “Sorry, people.” And he pulled out of his lane, creeping past the bike lane, and jacking the car onto the sidewalk, yelling, “Move!”

  He jumped out and took the keys, not that it would stop anyone from taking it, and hauled ass down the block, needing to make up time on Deacon. Colin rushed up The Stanley’s horseshoe driveway and through the automatic door—

  “You look like you’re in a rush.” The gruff voice mixed with the burst of hair and the whoosh of the closing door.

  His peripheral vision caught bikers before he twisted, his hand reached, ready for the gun tucked into his pants. “Hawke?”

  “Howdy, cowboy,” Hawke said, amused. “You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

  Adrenaline surged. Colin was too late. Mayhem’s president leaned against a pillar, a picture of what they wanted to portray: leather coat, dark jeans, scruffy beard and a face that promised he’d seen everything the club was named after. Mayhem.

  The man next to him was no different. Both wore leather coats, and Colin tried to read his patch without breaking their gaze—and couldn’t.

  He strode forward, sweeping a searching look for what else he might’ve missed when he powered in, and let his eyes rake up the patches to read their names and positions before coming back to the conversation.

  Hawke’s worn vest gave him as much power as one could have in Mayhem. President of the founding chapter.

  But Colin’s breaths stalled. Cullen Blackburn. That wasn’t just Seven’s father or a former president, but the man who founded what became the largest criminal motorcycle gang in the United States.

  “Your friend looks surprised to see us?” Cullen’s laughter mixed with a downturned smile and mocking eyes. “How do you know this guy?”

  Colin shook off the shock and ignored Cullen. “Where’s Adelia?”

  “What’s it to you?” Cullen tilted his head.

  Colin had heard second-hand stories about what happened when Seven and Jax first got together, about how Cullen came out of nowhere and disappeared again, but not before causing hell for Seven and anyone else that asshole came across.

  “We haven’t been introduced.” Colin squared off against the founding biker.

  “You’re Hawke’s buddy.” Cullen shrugged.

  “Forget it.” Colin didn’t have time for this. “Where is she?”

  Cullen laughed. “Who again?”

  “Look, I know who you are, and maybe to some, that gives you a pass to act like an ass.”

  “Tough guy’s using tough words,” Cullen mocked and turned to Hawke. “Whatcha doing with clean-cut friends like this?”

  Hawke chuckled. “Jesus, Cullen, do you ever shut up?”

  “Hawke, where is she?” Colin’s brow furrowed.

>   “Don’t worry about her. We came to an understanding,” Hawke added. “Everything’s going to work out fine.”

  “Meaning what?” Colin growled. “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “Club business,” Cullen added then let his lip curl. “You ain’t Mayhem.”

  “You know, I am so tired of hearing about Mayhem.”

  Cullen’s eyes narrowed. “Well, then you and I’ve got a problem.”

  “No, you do.” Colin rubbed his temples. They were patiently waiting for Adelia to stroll up and attack Gloria Astor in her final act before Mayhem killed her, except now, they weren’t going to kill her. “Hate to break it to you, Mayhem’s not the only one who wants her dead.”

  “That’s probably the truth,” Cullen grumbled. “I ran across the tart one time—”

  “Meaning, what exactly?” Hawke straightened, taking Colin more seriously.

  God forbid someone else try to kill Adelia. If they wanted to, fine. If someone else wanted to, that was a problem. Colin wanted to beat the hell out of Hawke and Cullen.

  A buzz of activity grew suddenly and steadily louder behind them as a row of reporters started to go live. Reporters had their fingers pressed into their ears as they listened to ear pieces while others intently watched their cell phones and furiously scrolled. It was the first time Colin had ever seen news break, and one by one, dozens of bright lights illuminated a line of reporters, all talking next to each other, none seeming to notice the others.

  “What’s going on there?” Cullen muttered.

  “Big news?” Colin watched. There had been a couple of stories on the evening news radio that cut into the traffic reports they’d occasionally scanned. The truth was, it sounded too much like work, and Colin didn’t have the energy to listen to real life when he didn’t have to.

  “Like a sex scandal,” Cullen jab. “Maybe some celebrity got engaged to someone’s baby’s mama. That’s make all them jump like that.”

  “We might agree on something,” Colin mumbled, watching the array of reporters and journalists in action. It was almost hypnotic to hear them all at once.

  Hawke nodded to a muted television hanging in a casual seating area the hotel lobby. The headline on the bottom of the screen, semi-obscured by closed captioning that they were too far away to see read Billionaire CEO Humanitarian’s Secret Life.

  “Hawke!”

  They twisted to see three large men pushing out the front of the hotel. She was out of view, but she had to have been with them. Colin strode toward the exit—until the unmistakable touch of a gun barrel against his back brought him to a standstill.

  Cullen pressed close. “Hang tight a minute, cowboy. I need you to stay here.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  After the last few weeks Colin had had, he didn’t want to get shot again—but he sure as fuck wasn’t going to stand around. His elbow dropped back, catching Cullen in the gut and he spun. The choreographing couldn’t have been better as the old man doubled over enough for Colin to catch his throat.

  “I do not care about Mayhem.” He squeezed, disarming Cullen with his other hand. “All the jail-yard tricks and bullying bullshit don’t have shit on training, so fuck with me again, and I will rip your throat out.”

  He released Cullen and left him sputtering as Hawke laughed.

  “You know he was shot,” Hawke said, slapping leather cut like they were a comedy act. “Fucking hell, Cullen. Put that away. You might have special prison privileges, but the rest of us don’t want to go to jail.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Hawke pulled out his cell phone as Colin turned. “Hey, you three have Adelia? Yeah. I’m in the lobby.”

  Colin paused, not sure what to believe until she saw her pushing away from the men and coming through the door. Hotel security stepped into the space separating them, and erected a rope line, and the line of reporters rushed like a sea of people in front of their group. Colin couldn’t see Adelia anymore. Shit.

  A security team stepped down the escalators, followed by what appeared to be Astor’s press team, prepping the journalists and reporters, and failing to control the scene.

  Brock appeared at the top of the escalators, sweeping the crowd, then started down the escalators followed by Javier. Odd to watch the team at work without him.

  Then Gloria appeared at the top of the escalator, alone, chin defiantly up and a challenging glower to the crowd of reporters.

  Nothing about Gloria Astor looked any different than how Colin had seen her years ago or on magazine covers over the years, yet everything had changed. The woman still knew how to glide instead of walk onto the escalator as she patiently waited to reach the lobby before glancing about as if she had just notified the chaos.

  Her entourage and security quickly filed down the behind her, and she waved to reporters, taking a moment to touch her neck, shake out her hand, then turn for the cameras again.

  Cameras captured her face faltering. Her flawless smile tilted, and her hands held out, unsteadily before she regained her composure. It was fake, but still the same flawless style she’d arrived with.

  Then Adelia stepped from the crowd of cameras, and Gloria’s hand dropped. A hush ran fell over the lobby, and the reporters’ questions stopped as the cameras continued to roll.

  The two women faced each other, standing a dozen feet apart. One was dripped in gold, and the other had survived hell from the day she was born. Colin wouldn’t blame Adelia for whatever might happen next—

  “I thought I’d survived because I had a purpose. To help others or to shine a light on you, but I was wrong.”

  “You haven’t done anything but told tales,” Gloria snapped.

  She shrugged. “I’m strong because I won’t let go. The future will be better. I will be part of that fire, and eventually, if your words don’t burn you to the ground.” She pointed at the reporters. “Your pride will destroy you. You need them more than they need you.”

  Gloria pulled a glittering hand to her chest and shook the other, scooting her away, but Adelia was already walking Colin’s way. He’d never been so worried and proud before and rushed forward as the reporters’ questions overpowered the lobby again.

  “Baby.” He pulled Adelia into his arms.

  Her lips parted as she trembled. “Oh my, goodness, you’re here. Thank you.”

  Colin promised everything would be okay as best he could, he curled around her body, swallowing a grunt of pain in his side. “It’s over now. With Mayhem, Astor. All—”

  “Mayhem,” she asked.

  “Adelia?” Deacon’s powerful whisper whipped through Colin’s senses.

  Javier and Brock closed in from the other side. No one had weapons drawn, but Colin couldn’t blame Javier or Brock for looking like they were a split second from making a quick move.

  Adelia backed against him, and he realized that after Gloria’s big arrival, Colin still didn’t know what the breaking news was.

  “Nice to see you.” Colin moved Adelia behind him. “Thought I lost you a couple blocks ago.”

  “What? You think I’m going to shoot her in the middle of the lobby?” Deacon smirked. “I don’t do messy.”

  “You don’t do traffic jams. You don’t do messy,” Colin said. “What is it that you do?”

  “I told you,” Deacon said. “I had a proposition for Miss Adelia.”

  “Ah, that’s right.” Colin snorted. “Baby. Do you want to work for him?”

  “What the hell?” Javier stepped to Colin’s side. “No. She doesn’t. Stay away from her.”

  “The other choices aren’t as pretty,” Deacon added. “I’m not such a bad. Don’t be a dick.”

  “Meaning what?” Hawke inched closer as well. “You think you could touch her right now? Do you know how many of my guys are crawling in this hotel? This lobby?” Hawke snapped, and seemingly out of nowhere, men ranging from in suit-and-ties to ready-to-rumble stepped from their shadows.

  Brock grumbled, motioning to hi
s ear piece. “Astor’s security just flagged a problem. They’re exiting bravo-one.”

  Hawke shrugged. “What can I say?”

  The sweep team pushing Gloria out faltered when she stopped. “You’re still here!”

  Adelia sidestepped Colin. “You’re still here!”

  “What got everyone riled up earlier?” Colin asked.

  Javier chuckled. “Adelia got her on tape, and it’s ugly.”

  “No shit?” Colin grinned and stepped from their group to see the televisions lining the hotel walls. The ones that weren’t live covering the event rolled transcripts of Gloria’s words, and Javier was correct. It was awful.”

  Disgusted, Colin looked at the woman who gaped at the screens, too. Her face had gone pale and she beat away any urging to continue on, as if she couldn’t stop watching what she’d said.

  Gloria turned toward them, a semi-circle of cameras held back at a distance, and she seethed. “What have you done!”

  “Told everyone what you had to say,” Adelia said.

  “You know nothing.” She ran her hands over the corset of the dress, raging, and put a hand over her chest. “Nothing!”

  Colin focused on her motions, how she moved—then Gloria stopped her fidgeting, falling to her knees. She blinked wide, as though uncertain, and her security rushed around, only to yell for more room. Sirens wailed.

  Who knew why they were coming. To arrest Gloria? To arrest Mayhem? That was too quick to come for medical reasons.

  Amid calls for help and doctors, Colin turned Adelia away and Hawke stepped forward.

  “Not to add on to the day’s excitement,” he said. “But, I had a talk with Deacon and Cullen. Consider your slate wiped clean.”

  Deacon smiled behind Mayhem.

  “But, don’t work for the bastard,” Hawke added.

  “What the hell, man?”

  Brock shook his head, and Javier nodded to the television screens. Several reported the Gloria Astor had a heart attack and died in the hotel lobby.

  Colin turned to Adelia. Her wide eyes and mouth gaped, and he had no idea what might be running through her head. “You okay, baby?”