Lucky: The Irish MC

by West, Heather

  I shook my head again. “Lacey, don’t,” I growled without listening to her. She’d kept droning on and on until I finalize roared at her to be quiet. After that, she’d shut up.

  A wave of nausea passed over me as I remembered Lacey’s exact words: “creepy-looking knife with a handle that looked like a carved animal.”

  The air whooshed out of my chest and suddenly I felt incredibly lightheaded. The stuffiness in Peyton’s hideaway was too much and I made my way to the door, clutching the walls. This couldn’t be right, I couldn’t possibly be right. Something was very, very wrong.

  Closing my eyes, I tried to remember exactly everything that Lacey had told me. Fucking hell, I wish I’d listened to her. With shaky fingers I tried to dial her number. The sweat from my hands made my phone slippery and I dropped it on the ground, cursing out loud. My heart was pounding faster and faster and I groped on the sticky floor for my phone, feeling years of grime and muck under my fingers.

  Grabbing my phone, I staggered towards the exit and threw open the door. The air outside stunk of the grease from the fast food place. I knew I had to find Lacey now; she was the only chance I had left.

  The drive to Lacey’s house was mercifully free of traffic but it seemed to take twice as long. I kept calling her—the phone would ring and ring with no answer. I knew in the pit of my stomach that she wouldn’t be there, but I had to try. When I pulled into the parking lot of her apartment complex, I didn’t see her car anywhere.

  Shit, she’s not going to be here, I realized as I was jogging up the stairs and towards her front door. I yelled her name loudly but there was no answer. Pounding on the door, I screamed her name until my throat cracked.

  I knew it then with absolute certainty: Peyton wasn’t my friend. Peyton was The Manticore. It had been him all along.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  My body went numb as the phone in my hands started to ring. It wasn’t Lacey calling me back, it was from an unknown number. My heart was in my throat as I held the receiver up to my ear.

  “Hello?”

  There was a familiar laugh, but this time it sounded…evil. I shuddered. “Hello, Chase,” Peyton’s voice growled. “Figure things out yet?”

  “Fuck you,” I spat. “I hate you. I’m going to fucking tear you apart, you asshole. Do you realize that?”

  Peyton laughed again, a growling, menacing sound. I shuddered and instinctively reached for the knife at my waistband, forgetting that we weren’t in the same room. “You can do whatever you want, Chasey,” he said in a sing-song voice. “As long as you come to me by midnight, I don’t give a fuck what you do, you got that?”

  “Where’s Lacey?” I growled. “You better fucking tell me, asshole.”

  “She’s here,” Peyton said with a low chuckle. “She and her sweet little ass are right next to me in this room. You wanna say hi? She’s gonna meet a nice little end if you can’t come by midnight, big boy. Just like your sweet sister, Rose.”

  The mention of Rose made my blood boil and I stamped my foot on the ground in rage. “You don’t fucking have her,” I retorted. “She’s probably not even with you.”

  “You wanna hear her say hi?” Peyton asked. There was a rustling sound and a muffled thump and I heard a female scream. The sound chilled me to the bone and the hair on the back of my neck stood up.

  “Lacey?” I asked in disbelief. “Is that you?”

  “Chase!” I heard her scream my name and the sound made me shiver. “Help me!”

  “Fuck,” I muttered. “Peyton, where the fuck are you? Where the fuck is she?”

  “She’s with me, baby,” Peyton said. “Sounds like she misses you a whole lot, you think I should give her something to help her out a little bit?”

  “Fuck you. Don’t lay a fucking finger on her or you’re dead!”

  “But I’m gonna be dead anyway,” Peyton said. “Why don’t I have myself a little fun in the process?”

  Angrily I threw the phone to the concrete below me. It shattered into tiny pieces and I grunted, sprinting back to the parking lot and hopping inside my car. There was only one place they could be: The Machetes’ warehouse on the outskirts of town.

  I sat in the car for a moment, thinking. I didn’t think they could have grabbed Lacey out from under my nose; when had they found the time? My heart sank as I realized she was scheduled to work at the daycare center today. They must have gotten her when she was on her way to her car. For a moment I wondered if any of the kids she loved so much had seen her get attacked, and I silently hoped they hadn’t. Then, when I realized what I was dwelling on, I shook my head angrily. Now was not the right time to be feeling bad for a bunch of little snot-nosed brats.

  Peyton said that I had until midnight. Knowing him, he was going to fuck with me until I turned myself in. I hated knowing that he and the gang had Lacey, but if they already had her, there wasn’t a lot I could do at the moment. I thought about all of the supplies I’d need before I went out there to fight him. Peyton was a strong guy, taller than me, more muscular, and with a hell of a lot of weapons. I shuddered thinking about his “weird creepy knife”—his machete. I felt like the world’s biggest idiot for not listening to Lacey sooner, but how could I have known?

  I would need at least one gun and a lot of ammo. There were some dealers that I knew, but no one I’d be able to meet with on such short notice. Every time I tried to concentrate, it felt like my brain was short-circuiting. I was going to have to find some deadly shit—fast.

  Driving downtown, I walked into the bar frequented by The Manticore. The old man behind the bar recognized me and shivered. I shook my head; I didn’t want to spend the whole time convincing him that I wasn’t here to kill him.

  “Relax,” I said loudly, holding my hands out in front of me. “I’m not going to hurt you again.”

  The man shook his head and backed away. “What do you want?” he asked me in this odd, stilted voice. “What can I possibly tell you now?”

  “I know where he is,” I said. “He called me. It wasn’t who I thought, old man, not at all.”

  The old man squinted at me. “You can’t have come to me for help,” he said in disbelief. “I’m powerless. I’m just an old man with a bar.”

  “I need a gun,” I hissed. “And a few rounds. The Manticore and his thugs stole my friend, and I need to make sure she gets out alive.”

  The old man threw his head back and laughed. I wanted to punch him. “What the fuck. Come on, what the fuck is so fucking funny?”

  “She’s gone, boy.” The man laughed. For a moment, his patronizing tone sounded exactly like Peyton, and I balled my hands into my fists at my sides and growled. He looked chastened, but gave me a warning look all the same.

  “Help me,” I growled. “I need to save her.”

  “It’s probably a lost cause, you know that, right?” The old man sucked in air through the gap in his front teeth. “But I got a gun behind the bar here that I can sell you, if you need.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t pay, man,” I said. “I’ll pay you later. I’ll pay you double, but it’s gonna have to wait. Let me see.”

  I saw the old man hesitate and then slowly reach under the bar. He came back with a sawed off shotgun and placed it on the bar in front of me. I could see where the serial number had been scratched out.

  “This is all I have,” he said quietly. “You can pay me later.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Do you have ammo for it? I need a few rounds.”

  The old man shook his head. “No, I haven’t needed things like that in a long time.” He gave me a rueful look. “Just when I thought this shit was over and done, you have to go bringing it back into my bar.”

  “Hey,” I said defensively. “I’m not doing anything, I didn’t ask the fucking Manticore to start patronizing you. At least you’re getting some fucking business!” I slammed my hand down on the bar and a cloud of dust rose up around the shotgun; I could tell it hadn’t been used in years.


  The old man shook his head. “I just want peace,” he grumbled. “I’m too old to deal with this shit anymore.”

  I narrowed my eyes and grabbed the gun with one hand. “You have any idea where I can get some ammo for this fucker?”

  The old man tilted his head. “Try a pawn shop,” he advised. “Do anything, just get out of my bar. Bring back the gun when you’re done with it.”

  “Are you fucking serious? You’re not worried about the cops coming around here?”

  The old man laughed heartily, throwing his head back and exposing a mouth full of rotten teeth. “What do I have to be afraid of?” he asked, still laughing. “What’s going to happen to me now? I’m an old man.”

  Crazy old bastard, I thought to myself as I hefted the sawed off shotgun outside and tried to look like I had every right to be carrying an illegal weapon openly on the streets of Detroit.

  There was a pawn shop on the next block and I stormed inside, carrying the gun in one hand and whistling. If I was going to go out, I might as well go out blazing, right?

  The woman behind the counter screamed when she saw me. She almost looked a little like Lacey—if Lacey were fat, middle aged, and had no teeth. They had the same big grey eyes and dark hair and I shook my head at the absurd nature of seeing her everywhere.

  “Relax,” I said in a low voice. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Lacey

  “Have a good weekend?” Anne asked me as I let myself in the front door of Dawning Center. I frowned. She seemed entirely cheery; it was like our bickering of the past few weeks had been forgotten.

  “It was fine,” I said flatly, hanging up my coat. “How was yours?”

  “It was great!” Anne gushed as though she’d been waiting forever for me to ask her. “It was so wonderful!”

  I narrowed my eyes. This was unusual. Anne and I had always been cordial, but she was acting really strangely. “Did you meet a guy?”

  Anne laughed. “Don’t be a child, Lacey. Some of us are capable of having fun without sex.”

  Ouch, I thought, turning away. Guess her bitchiness is intact after all.

  “Lacey, I need help with cleaning today,” Anne instructed. “When you finish getting ready, can you help me mop the floor and sweep before the kids arrive?”

  I nodded. “Got it,” I mumbled. “What else do you need?”

  Anne stared. “What is with you? You’ve been acting so strangely the past few weeks, Lacey. Is something wrong? You can talk to me.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I’m fine,” I muttered. “Just some guy stuff.”

  “Men can be distracting,” Anne said, not unkindly. “But you need to focus on being here right now, or else I’m going to have to let you go. Your performance here has really been lacking lately. I’ve wanted to give you more chances, and you know how hard it is to hire people around here…”

  I frowned. “What are you talking about? I’ve been fine,” I said. “I know I was late a couple of times, but I’ve always called when I was going to be out.”

  “Children need reliable, stable influences in their lives,” Anne continued. “And if you can’t understand that and make that a priority, I don’t think it would be for the best if you continue working here.”

  “Are you kidding? What the hell is this really about?” I flipped my dark hair over my shoulder and planted my hands on my hips, staring at Anne. She bit her lip and turned away, and suddenly, I got it.

  Chase. It’s about Chase.

  “Lacey, please start cleaning up,” Anne said finally. “Do you need me to tell you again?”

  I shot her a dirty look and went over to the corner to fill the bucket. The mop was leaning against it and I grabbed it wearily. Ever since the fight with Chase, I hadn’t been sleeping well. In fact, I hadn’t really been sleeping well since I met Chase, but somehow it was easier to blame everything on our fight.

  Our fight. I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall. The fluorescent overhead lighting burned into my lids and I felt a bolt of pain strike my head. I had no idea how things had gotten so fucked up so quickly, but it was like my entire life had changed with Chase and this mess he’d dragged me into. All because I accidentally saw him hit someone! It was ridiculous.

  As I automatically mopped the floor, I thought about everything that had happened between us since we’d met. The lies, the sex, the passion… Ugh. It seemed like no matter what Chase did—or what he said, or how he treated me—I was always going to find him sexy. I was always going to think about the night that we’d spent in each other’s arms, making love…

  “Lacey!” I heard a familiar voice and turned around to see Mark. Groaning inwardly, I mustered as much of a smile as I could.

  “Hi, Mr. Simpson,” I said cheerfully. He gave me a sharp look.

  “Lacey, how many times have we had this conversation? It’s Mark, please,” he said, exasperated. “You’re my friend, not my student.”

  I rolled my eyes; I was the nursery school teacher of his children, which I didn’t really think could be counted as his ‘friend.’ “Sorry, Mark,” I said, gritting my teeth. “How are Peter and Shaunna?”

  Mark shook his head. He looked cute when he was stressed. “Peter is doing well, but Shaunna’s starting to come down with a cold. I’ve kept her at home for the day with a sitter, but Peter’s feeling fine. If he starts acting weird, just give me a call and I’ll leave work to come get him immediately.”

  I nodded. Honestly, the only reason I thought Mark was cute was because he so obviously loved his kids. Compared to Chase, he looked like a cupcake. I tried to imagine Chase caring about any kids half as much as Mark loved his and burst out laughing, it was just too much to think about.

  “Lacey?” Mark narrowed his eyes. “Is something funny?”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m sorry.

  “Lacey!” Anne barked from across the room. “Come over here and finish cleaning!”

  “Sorry,” I said to Mark. “I have to go.”

  “Still think about that date, okay?” Mark asked. I frowned; he hadn’t asked me out in over two weeks now. “The offer always stands.”

  “Okay, Mark,” I said, forcing a smile. “I will. I promise.”

  ***

  Chase

  After my little excursion to the pawn shop, I was feeling more nervous than ever about finally encountering Peyton. A nervous chill ran through my body; it had been so long time since I’d begun looking for Rose’s killer that I’d almost forgotten what it would feel like to actually win. If I win, I thought grimly. It hadn’t escaped me that I might die within the next day; I was surprised to find myself feeling oddly light about the prospect. Of course, thinking about them hurting Lacey was something else. I tried to tell myself that they wouldn’t really do anything to hurt her, that they were only using her to get to me, but deep down, I wasn’t sure if I believed it. The Manticore and the gang members of The Machetes were notoriously ruthless. If they wanted to kill her, they wouldn’t blink before doing so.

  I loaded up my car with the gun, as much ammo as I could find, and a couple of small knives. The drive to the warehouse made me uneasy. It had been a long, long time since I’d been out there. The last time I’d shown up, I’d gotten fucked by my buddies. The cops had been there, and less than a day later, I’d been in prison. It seemed like ages ago now, and it was at this point: over ten years.

  It may have been over a decade, but the warehouse still looked just as grimy and shitty as ever. What was it with these guys having nasty haunts? I couldn’t imagine they benefitted from living in such horrible conditions. It was just like Peyton’s little hideaway apartment, only worse. There were rusty nails all over the ground leading up to the warehouse and I suddenly hoped Lacey hadn’t been wearing open-toed shoes. The last thing she needed was tetanus.

  Every muscle in my body tensed as I heard the rough barking of a German shepherd. It lunged at me and then yanked back, whimperin
g. When I got closer, I realized that it was on a tether connected to a metal spike in the ground.

  “Easy,” I whispered, keeping my hands down and at a safe distance from the dog. The dog barked and saliva dripped down its jowls, spattering the ground. As I stepped to the other side, it began to growl at me. I reached for the shotgun at my side and pointed it at the dog’s head. The dog whimpered and backed away slowly, letting me pass. I nodded at it. “Good boy,” I whispered quietly. “Thank you.”

  The dog obviously didn’t respond so I gave it a wink before sneaking over to the corner of the building and sliding along the side. Inside, I could hear low male voices. There was nothing indicating that Lacey was inside. I couldn’t hear her voice, and it sounded like the guys were talking about some big drug deal. Shaking my head, I blinked and looked down at my feet. I couldn’t believe that it had come to this. After all of my work, I’d still been outsmarted. I’d always known how tough The Machetes were, but this felt like a whole other ball game.