OBEY: Lucky Skulls MC

by Sophia Gray

  “Elle,” I said simply and honestly.

  “The fucking girl?” Mitch demanded, then shook his head and started pacing. He muttered to himself again. I thought I heard “fucking crazy” in there somewhere, but couldn’t swear by it.

  Patrick ignored him and said, “Boss, I think we need to consider maybe that’s not a very good idea.”

  “I’m going after her,” I told them, not even acknowledging what Patrick had just said. I wouldn’t let him or anyone else talk me out of this. I was going. I would save her. Or I’d die trying.

  Making a frustrated sound, Patrick tried again. “It’s probably a trap, Ciaran!” It said something that Patrick was using my first name instead of boss. We’d spent some of our youth together and he was a loyal man, but he, like Doc, was practical. He saw the value in running away to fight another day. I didn’t. Not this time.

  I shook my head. “No one else has to go.”

  “Jesus,” Patrick said, shaking his head. He took a step towards me. “It’s either a trap, or she’s already dead.”

  My gaze shot to him in an instant and I knew my eyes flashed with anger. I was furious with him for even suggesting it, though somewhere tucked away inside I acknowledged that it was a possibility. No. If he wanted her dead, he’d have killed her in the raid. She’s still alive. He’s using her to get to me. I wasn’t sure if I was just doing my damnedest to use logic to reassure myself or if I was actually convinced she was okay, but I didn’t care. I’d take either at this point. “She’s not dead,” I told Patrick. “And I didn’t ask any of you fuckers to go. I’m going. The rest of you should listen to Patrick and bail.” I said this to Doc and Mitch, but the words were meant for any and all of my guys. It was as good as naming Patrick as new leader of the Lucky Skulls, and it was for the best. Because if this were a trap, I probably wasn’t getting out of it alive.

  I didn’t wait for them to decide one way or the other. I headed towards the door, even as Doc yelled after me that I really needed a bandage over the wound. I didn’t listen. All I cared about was getting to Elle. She was the only thing on my mind right now, and damn it all if I wouldn’t save her one way or another.

  Chapter 16

  Elle

  The only reason I was keeping my shit together was because I had managed to convince myself Ciaran was alive. Maybe I was just being stupid and naïve, or desperate and hopeful, but I needed to believe he was okay. I needed to believe that somehow that bullet hadn’t caught him in the heart or the lung. The arm, I told myself. It was only in the arm. Or maybe the leg. He could survive that, right?

  I had similar thoughts persisting throughout the long drive in the back of the car. Which was both good and bad. It was bad because I really didn’t want to think about all of the possible places Ciaran could have been shot—and whether any of them were actually fatal or not. But it was good because it kept me focused on something other than the two goons in the car with me.

  One was driving the car, his eyes only flickering back to me every once in a while. He seemed content to watch the icy road and handle the more mundane portions of this kidnapping.

  The other was sitting in the back with me and had a gun on me the entire time. He would be the reason I didn’t try to escape out the door. That and the little fact that the car was moving. I wasn’t an action hero or anything and was pretty sure if the car kept moving and I tried to roll out of it, it would end badly. Probably with a broken neck or some other important bone like that. And then I’d be so damn slow that by the time I got around to thinking about escaping, they’d have already thrown me and my broken bones back into the car.

  No, staying put would have to be my course of action for now. Hopefully that would change and some escape route would show itself, but I wasn’t overly confident for that fact.

  But Ciaran’s alive! He could come to save me! a voice in my head chirped happily.

  Until I squashed it like the annoying bug it was. Ciaran wasn’t coming for me. Sure, he’d done his best to save me, to keep me out of harm’s way, but I’d told him I loved him and nothing. Just a stay here. Be careful. And look at how that had turned out? No, my hopes for Ciaran coming for me were slim. Especially since I knew he was, at the very least, hurt.

  Hurt is better than dead, I thought, and it was true even knowing that Ciaran didn’t feel for me what I felt for him.

  The idea of him being my knight in shining white armor was addicting and sent warm ripples through me, but it was only a fantasy. Whatever duty he felt for me, it wasn’t much beyond some responsibility for getting me involved. I didn’t even know if that was really it. But it wasn’t because he had real feelings for me. After all, what sort of man just looked at you after you proclaimed your love for him and then just pretended like you hadn’t said anything at all?

  My fairytale rescue was all in my head and I knew it. Not the most comforting thought, but I was going to have to be realistic about my situation if I wanted to get out of it.

  At least I’m not tied up, I thought, trying to find the silver lining.

  I hadn’t struggled much after being thrown into the car and as a result I was free. Or maybe they were just satisfied with a gun trained to my forehead that kept me untied. Either way, I could move my legs, wiggle my ankles, and even reach for the door with my hand if I wanted to. Not that the gun pointed at my head let me entertain that urge for long.

  Free was a good thing, but not particularly useful. I had to find something that was useful.

  Trying to be discreet, I let my gaze wander around the back of the car, searching for anything I could use. The car was pretty boring. A sedan. Leather seats that were in decent shape, though I saw a tear towards the opposite side of the car. The windows were a little dirty and the only thing I could even see in the car that wasn’t part of the car was the magazine stuffed between the seats. It looked like one of those porn magazines, but I couldn’t be sure.

  My gaze wandered to the front of the car. I saw a cellphone sitting in the middle console and a cross charm hanging from the rearview mirror. The passenger seat was empty, but there might have been something underneath. Not that I was in any position to check or ask.

  Slumping back, I resigned myself to waiting. Whatever I was going to try to do to get myself out of this, it wasn’t going to be from inside this car. There was nothing to work with unless I was hoping they’d look at the porno magazine together and distract themselves long enough for me to run off. And I didn’t think that was going to happen anytime soon.

  Sighing, I tried to stay calm. And I tried not to think about Ciaran.

  How he’d been running towards me, like he really did care.

  How he’d been shot in the back.

  How he’d gone down, blood pooling around his body.

  I clenched my eyes shut tightly. So much for not thinking about him. Letting my head lean back on the leather seat, I took a deep breath to calm myself and remembered I was sure it was the arm or the leg. He was shot somewhere where he’d definitely survive.

  I was sure of it.

  …

  Eventually, the car ride came to an end. We drove through the city and out the other side it seemed, because when we pulled off the highway it was onto an old road that didn’t look like it was very well maintained. The snow had been cleared, but not by the state, it didn’t look like, but rather some big truck with a plow attached to the front.

  The road was bumpy and I jerked my arm to the door to brace myself. The sudden movement caught the attention of my unfriendly guard. “Easy, sweetheart,” he warned in a low and deadly voice, pulling the gun higher as though to emphasize its presence.

  Like I needed emphasis.

  “Sorry,” I muttered, then felt angry with myself for apologizing. Really, who the hell was he that I had to apologize to him?

  The man with the gun, my mind supplied dryly.

  I forced myself to look away from the gun and out the window in the hopes that I would see something to indi
cate where we are. Mostly, I just saw wilderness. As the bumpy road continued to toss us around carelessly, I looked ahead to spot the place we were probably headed. I was surprised to find it was a log cabin, not so unlike the one Ciaran and I had shared.

  We drove a ways still until the car finally came to a stop around the back of the cabin. The lights were glowing from inside the building, but I couldn’t see any people or movement to indicate someone was home. I was sure, of course, there was. This one wouldn’t be deserted like the one I’d found for Ciaran and myself.

  The driver got out first. His door opened, letting a quick, chilling breeze sweep through the car to take away what the heater had left inside. I shivered, then the man with the gun made a motion for me to move. “Go on, let’s get a move on,” he said in a snide tone that I didn’t like now any more than I’d liked the first time I’d heard it.

  The door opened on my side, sending another wave of frost through me. The driver had opened my door for me. How sweet. I glanced back at him, then at the gun. With a sigh, I did as I was told and slid across the seat until I could get out of the car.

  The snow wasn’t too bad here. Probably it had been cleared away on and off over the course of the storm, because I could walk through it without too much difficulty.

  We approached the back of the cabin, the guy with the gun behind me and the driver walking just ahead to lead me. He opened the door, then motioned for me to come inside. I couldn’t deny the warmth radiating from the cabin appealed to me, but that was just about all that appealed to me.

  The cabin was much bigger than the little resort one I’d found a few days ago. It looked more like a lodge complete with elk heads mounted on the walls and a bear skin rug. There was a large fire going in the main room, which was large and open. There was a couch facing it and two adjacent chairs, their backs to the staircase that led to the upper level. It looked like there might be a basement, too, but I really didn’t get a good look.

  There was a kitchen that was separated by a breakfast bar complete with stools and it was large enough that three or four people could cook in it comfortably.

  Better than I would ever be used to.

  There was a hall along the kitchen and adjacent to the stairs that looked like it led to more rooms, but we walked right past it to join the only man who was in the living room. He was an attractive man, I supposed, but I didn’t feel any pull towards him. Not like Ciaran. If anything, there was something evil that seemed to waft off of him like a bad smell.

  Evil’s too strong a word, I told myself, but it was the only one I could come up with.

  “Please, sit,” he commanded when he spotted me. His eyes glinted and he smiled like I was his favorite guest. Which, under the circumstances, maybe I was, though I hardly considered myself a guest. Guests could leave. It was pretty damn clear I couldn’t.

  All the same, I obeyed orders. I tucked my dress beneath me, then sat in one of the two vacant chairs. I could have sat beside the man who’d spoken, but I valued my life and didn’t want to push my luck. He grinned at me as though he had read my mind and knew exactly what I was thinking. It didn’t make me exactly like him.

  I cleared my throat, but didn’t say anything. I couldn’t force words up my throat and out from between my lips, so I just sat there silently waiting for him to…do something.

  We sat in tense silence for a while, then finally he spoke. “Do you know who I am?” he inquired, his voice calm, almost even happy, though there was clearly something off about it.

  I shook my head. I had some guesses, but I’d never seen this man before in my life.

  He nodded as though not surprised. “Of course. I don’t know if Ciaran’s told you about me or not, but I suppose a polite host should introduce himself, shouldn’t he?” The man smiled broadly and offered his hand. I eyed it suspiciously, unwilling to take it. He laughed a little at my apprehension. “Oh, c’mon honey. My skin isn’t poison.”

  Only because I was in his house and there was a man behind me with a gun, I reached for his hand. It felt clammy but warm, and I shook quickly before jerking my hand back to me. His left slower, but he seemed unconcerned with my reluctance to shake. Like he knew I was scared of him and liked it.

  Bastard, I thought.

  “My name is Shane McCarthy.”

  He said the name as though it was supposed to mean something to me. Which it did, but for no other reason than Ciaran had told me about him. He was the man who had given the order to kill Ciaran’s mother—or at the very least okayed the action. More than that, he hadn’t even cared that it was his own mother, too.

  He said that damn name like it was something to be proud of. But it wasn’t. Feared, maybe, but not proud.

  Something in my expression must have showed, because Shane’s smile lengthened. “Ah, then you do recognize the name.”

  I had decided to keep my mouth shut and await help or rescue or something, but for some reason I couldn’t resist saying, “Yeah. Ciaran told me all about you. About how you’re a monster.”

  Instead of looking offended by my comment, he looked almost amused by it. Like he was pleased I had said it and maybe had even been hoping I’d been told as much. The thought sent a chill through me. What sort of man hoped people knew he was a monster? The same sort of animal that killed his own mother, I thought grimly. It was a terrible thought, but it did well to remind me of what sort of man I was dealing with.

  “Is that what he said?” Shane asked lightly.

  I snapped my mouth shut and folded my arms across my chest. It occurred to me that maybe I’d had it right the first time when I decided not to talk. I’d clearly fucked that up pretty quickly, but I could start now.

  He didn’t seem in the least bit miffed by my sudden silence. All he did was shrug at it. “It’s okay. I’m sure my dear brother—did he tell you that? That we’re brothers? Regardless, I’m sure my brother told you all about my faults. My shortcomings. My monstrosity.” The whole time he spoke it was with a calm, casual tone that said he wasn’t concerned about any of this. If anything, he seemed pretty content with the whole situation. “But I don’t suppose he mentioned any of his own, did he?”

  I grit my teeth to keep from responding. I sensed that he was trying to goad me into talking, into saying something I might regret, but I wasn’t going to do it. I bottled up whatever answers I might have had and waited as patiently as I could for him to continue speaking.

  I didn’t have to wait long.

  “How about him murdering my man, did he tell you that?”

  Yes, as a matter of fact he did, I thought proudly. I felt a little better knowing the thing Shane was going to try to use against me wouldn’t work because Ciaran had already trusted me enough to mention it. It made me feel stronger, more secure about it.

  Maybe Shane sensed that pride in me or read it in my face, because his grin widened. “Oh, he did, didn’t he?”

  I looked away, because I was tired of how easily he seemed able to read me. Instead, I stared at the flames licking at the wood in the fireplace. It was something alive to focus on, something moving and distracting, and hopefully it would keep Shane from reading my face like an open book.

  “Did he tell you it was a trap? An ambush? That I set him up?” Shane asked these questions with what could have been sympathy. Like maybe he was expecting me to confirm Ciaran had told me these things.

  And he had. I glanced at him, a frown forming on my face. This was the wrong thing to do, because Shane grinned wider still.

  “That’s what I thought,” he said, mock sadness filling his tone. “And I understand. Really, I do. You’re a beautiful woman and I know how my brother feels about beautiful women.”

  A trickle of cold was beginning to work its way through my body. I didn’t want to think about what he meant about that. Just how many women had he been with? And did it matter? He’d already just as much as admitted he didn’t love me. What more of an answer did I need than silence?

 
It doesn’t matter what he thinks about beautiful women. He protected me, and I know what kind of man he is. He isn’t the kind of man who would kill someone if he had another choice.

  I pushed away that trickle of cold doubt and told myself I wouldn’t be swayed. I wouldn’t care what this asshole said because I knew he for sure was a monster. I had proof of that. Everything else was just hearsay and more than likely an attempt to turn me against Ciaran. And I wouldn’t let that happen.

  “He wants you to think he’s some sort of hero, you know,” Shane continued, oblivious to my internal debate as well as my ultimate decision on the matter. “He wants you to think he’s the good guy in all of this, but he’s not. He’s as much of a monster as any of us. You think his little club doesn’t do illegal things? You think he’s never broken the law? You obviously know he’s already killed. What makes you think my man Macalister was the only one?”