by Cat Mason
“You’re all fucking insane,” I say, shaking my head. “I should’ve let Jensen kill you back at the clubhouse.”
Storming toward me, Ivy’s foot connects with my ribs. “Shut the fuck up!” she seethes, pointing the knife at me. “By the time I’m done with you, bitch, you’ll beg me to kill you.”
“Richie,” Olivia whimpers, trying to sit up. “Please. Stop this. Alfred has loved you like his own son.”
“Like hell he has,” Richard roars in response. “That piece of shit could never be my father.”
“You’re right, Richie. Olivia obviously isn’t important to him,” Ivy says with a little shrug of her shoulders. “Troy, baby? Would you?”
“No,” my father pleads, his bloodshot eyes filling with fear. “Ivy, don’t.”
“I thought you’d never fuckin’ ask.” Grabbing a gun from the table, Troy screws on the silencer, cocks it and fires, shooting Olivia in the head. Her body drops with a thud, her lifeless eyes almost staring at me as blood oozes onto the floor.
“No!” I scream, falling back against the wall. My father’s eyes shut tightly, his shoulders sagging as he bows his head.
“Fuck, that felt good,” Troy says, blowing out a breath. “That bitch never stopped crying.”
“She was a horrible woman,” Richard says, nodding his head in agreement. Pulling his gun, he pulls the trigger, shooting Troy twice in the chest. Clapping a hand over my mouth, I stifle my scream. Troy drops to the ground with a heavy thud beside Olivia, his gun clattering to the floor beside him. “But she was still my mother, you piece of shit. The bullet that ended her life should’ve been mine.”
Clutching his chest, Troy coughs and sputters, staring up at Ivy. “Baby,” he breathes, blood dripping out of his mouth.
Walking over, she brushes her fingertips over his face, smiling down at him softly as she picks up the gun. “I’m going to miss you.”
My body jolts when a gun goes off again, this time putting Troy out of his misery. “Kill me,” my father says, his voice sounding broken and defeated. “Why won’t you just kill me?”
“Because.” Ivy’s eyes shoot to him, blazing with rage. “You haven’t suffered enough yet.”
I can see the situation here deteriorating quickly. If I don’t do something, we are going to die. Even though I am scared to death, and the shock of what I have seen and heard has me wanting to shut down, I refuse to go down without a fight.
Chapter Nineteen
Stone
For the first time since the President’s patch was sewn onto my cut, I am lost, and have no idea what the fuck to do.
My boots crunch over the gravel as I pace in the lot outside the clubhouse, willing my phone to ring. Patience is not a virtue I admit to having when it comes to situations like this. This is the worst possible thing that could happen. The goddamn unthinkable. We have been betrayed by a patched member. That son of a bitch sat across from me at our table for years, we have all fucking trusted him with our lives, at one point or another. D.A. is no longer my brother. Troy West has become the enemy.
Thanks, in part, to that son of a bitch, my best friend is lying inside, on the pool table with a bullet lodged in his shoulder and my girl is missing. That motherfucker has been playing all of us. My hindsight is crystal fucking clear and the truth of what I now see cuts like a knife.
Shocked at the current clusterfuck of events himself, Chief McKelvy suggested that the best thing in this situation was to keep the investigation as contained as possible. Meaning he was going to lie. In his opinion, there was no need to complicate anything by ripping the entire compound apart when we already knew that D.A. and Roanne weren’t here.
With his help, we got the story straight with Jace. Doc and I pulled Hoss’s body outside the gates, and into the road while Jace gave the pavement a good spray down. With the scene staged, and Cheyenne locked away inside the clubhouse for her protection, McKelvy got on his radio and called it in as an attempted break in gone wrong.
It’s safe to say that his genius idea has earned the prick back some of those usefulness points. At least for now.
Once I brought McKelvy up to speed on what happened at Greedy Creek, I called Huck and told him to bring the van in through the back so that we could get Colt patched up. We all get hurt. Shit like that goes along with the territory. Tonight was different. Second guessing my own decisions, our vote at the table, is another first for me. One that I am not good with. I can feel things shifting inside me, all around me, and I don’t like it one goddamn bit.
Watching Doc work on my best friend was too much for me. I had to walk out and get some air. It is taking everything in me not to go over to the back building, where Huck is now hiding Wright, and blow his goddamn brains out. Everything in me screams for justice to be served.
But, I can’t risk taking him out yet.
Not until I can get some answers.
Not ‘til I get Ro back.
A black Ford SUV whips through the gate, taking down part of the police tape McKelvy put up, the tires screeching as it comes to a stop just a few feet from me. Grabbing my gun, I keep it close to my side while attempting to see through the blacked-out windows. Flinging open the door, a woman jumps to the pavement wearing a pair of green scrubs that say ‘Johnston Memorial’ on them. She is short, probably barely over five feet tall. Meeting my eyes, she yanks her long curly blonde hair up and twists it into some sort of fucking ball on top of her head.
Propping a hand on her hip, she arches a brow. “You gonna stand there starin’ at me, dipshit?” she asks, popping the rear hatch access with the key fob in her other hand. “Or you wanna help a girl out?”
“Who the fuck are you?” I ask, slipping my gun back into the holster.
“Henley Wolfe,” she tosses out, making her way around to the back of her vehicle. The moment I make it to the back bumper, she tosses a black duffle at me, the heavy fucker slamming into my chest. “Donovan is my brother.” Shaking her head, she rolls her eyes. “I mean Torch. Stupid nickname—road name—what the fuck ever. Stupid pyro fuckknob.” Shouldering a smaller black duffle, she hits the fob again and the rear access begins to close. “Anyway, he called me up. Said he needed some help with a busted-up buddy.”
“You a doctor?”
She shakes her head. “Critical care nurse in the E.R. at Johnston Memorial over in Milford.”
Keeping up with me step for step, Henley follows me inside where Doc and Torch are busy working on Colt, while Jinks paces on the other side of the room. Torch looks up, relief filling his eyes when he spots us headed toward them. “Hey, Sis.”
“Fuck, Donnie,” Henley says, settling her bag on the pool table, next to Colt’s thigh. “What the hell happened?”
“Don’t call me that,” he barks, narrowing his eyes. “Gunshot wound. Right shoulder.”
Yanking a package of gloves from her bag, Henley pulls them on with a loud snap. “Let me take a quick look at what we’ve got.” Climbing up on the pool table, she begins looking Colt over carefully, her fingers running over his collarbone.
Colt groans, pain filling his face. “Just give me a bottle of Jameson and let me borrow your sewin’ kit.” Fumbling with his good arm, he attempts to sit up. “I don’t need some Doctor Barbie feelin’ me up.”
Flinging a thigh over him, she straddles his waist. “Listen here, Beefcake.” Flattening her hands to his chest, she forces him back down on the table. He curses loudly, grunting in pain. She smirks. “You’re gonna lie here and let me handle you. Even if that means I have to sit on you while I do it.”
“She patches bullet wounds and does lap dances,” Doc laughs, taking the bag from me. “I didn’t get that kind of medical training in the Army.”
“Watch it, dickhead,” Torch growls, punching him in the arm. “That’s my sister.”
“I didn’t need the military to teach me how to handle a stubborn man.” Looking over at Doc, Henley winks. “I grew up with three brothers.” Torch glares at
her. She sighs. Looking down at Colt, she pats him on the chest softly. “Let’s get you something for the pain. Then we will get cleaned up and see what we’re dealin’ with.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket. “Got a call,” I say to Torch. “Get her whatever the fuck she needs.” Leaving Colt in Henley’s hands, I head outside to take the call. “Stone,” I bark into the mouthpiece.
“Your message said you need my help.” Maxwell Teague’s voice is icy. “Don’t tell me that the mighty Jensen Stone has gotten in over his head.”
“Thanks for returnin’ my call, Teague,” I reply, ignoring his smartass comment. Glancing over my shoulder, I make my way toward the back building where Huck is holding Hank.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he says with a laugh. “You want your girl home in time for dinner? It’s gonna cost you.”
“Don’t dick with me, Teague,” I say through my gritted teeth. “I know nothin’ comes free. How much do you want?”
“Can you put a price on her, Stone?” he asks, baiting me. “I hear the desperation in your voice from here. I have no doubt that Hank Wright and his associates could smell it coming off you in waves. You sure you don’t want to let them have her?” he asks, making my blood fucking power boil. “Can’t afford to have a weakness when you live among monsters.”
“Nothing about me is weak,” I assure him. “Do you have any-fucking-thing useful for me, or not? I don’t have goddamn time for games.”
“It’s not your money I want,” he replies. “I want your word that you’ll clean up this goddamn mess quickly. A very clear message needs to be sent that betrayal of any kind will not be tolerated, especially when it comes to those that deal with my assets. I won’t have myself, or those I work with, appear weak or incompetent. The future of our business relationship depends on it. There must be ramifications for what has happened,” he bites out harshly.
“On that much we can agree,” I assure him. “Where is she?”
“An associate of mine was called in to do a clean-up down by the lake in Thurmond Valley. Your guy, West, was a part of the haul,” he says, then the call disconnects.
The sound of a car has me headed back toward the clubhouse. Parked beside Henley’s SUV is the same car Laswell and Ashmead showed up in when they came to interview Roanne. Ashmead and Schrader climb out, his eyes on me. “I leave for a few hours and everything goes to shit.”
“You’re back just in time to end it,” I reply, clapping him on the back. My eyes move to Detective Ashmead as she makes her way around the car toward us. “Appreciate you drivin’ him out.”
She nods. “That was a shit show with the K.P.D., they didn’t have a damn thing worth holding him on.” She exhales loudly. “I’m not only here for that. I wanted to make this shit right in person.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask, completely confused.
“McKelvy told me what happened.” She holds up both hands, when I start to speak. “This is off the record. I could lose my fucking shield for what I’m about to tell you, since I know what you’ll do with the information.”
“I feel a nice but coming,” Schrader chuckles, glancing over to check out her ass. “But, but, but…”
“But my conscience demands that I make this right.” Holding my eyes, she ignores him. “When I couldn’t reach Agent Laswell, this morning, I went by his hotel. We had been working closely on this case. I knew he would want to know about Roanne.” Her face falls. “He wasn’t there. Actually,” she huffs out a small laugh. “I don’t know where he is. He left behind a ton of photos and paperwork.”
Schrader smirks. “If he wasn’t there,” he interrupts, waggling his brows. “How’d you get in?”
“I had a key,” she breathes, bowing her head. “When I say we worked closely, what I mean is—”
“He’s been investigating all of us,” I reply, not wanting the details of their off the clock affair. “He probably has a fucking file full of shit on all of us.”
“There’s a hell of a lot more on her than anyone else combined,” she corrects me. “And, not a file. It’s more like a scrapbook of her entire life. There are lots of photos. Especially the last few months. I don’t know how they know each other, but it’s very clear this started long before he was assigned to this case. My gut tells me he’s involved.”
“Thanks for the ride, gorgeous,” Schrader says since my feet are already moving. “This is where we go fuck shit up.”
Chapter Twenty
Roanne
Maneuvering myself on the folding chair, I pull the cardboard free from the window again. I have spent my time, since Richard locked me away, again, listening to the feet moving through the house, and the new male voice, trying to figure out what is going on. My worst fear is that they are moving my father again, or that they killed him after I left the room.
Looking out, I spot two extremely tall, bald men loading, what I assume to be, Olivia and Troy’s bodies, wrapped in plastic, into the back of a large white cargo van. The words Smokin’ Sal’s Award Winning BBQ written in flames across the side. I shudder at the thought of what Sal’s putting in his smokers. Once they close the back doors to the van, Richard exchanges words with both the men before handing over an envelope and shaking their hands. The man accepting the envelope nods his head before they climb into the van and drive away. I watch the taillights until they disappear, wishing that it was me driving away from here instead.
Every moment that passes, is one more that I am here. My mind wanders to Jensen. I have no clue where he is, or even how he is, knowing the last time I saw him he was going after Hank Wright.
Scanning the yard again, my breath catches when I lock eyes with Richard. Crossing his arms over his chest, he blows out a breath and shakes his head. Scrambling, I grab the cardboard and shove it into place. Dropping to the chair, I bury my face in my hands.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Fucking shit. Shit. Shit.
His footsteps sound louder than ever as he storms up the porch steps. The front door slams so hard, it causes the bottle of water he brought me to fall, the last of its contents spilling onto the floor. Closing my eyes tightly, I wait. There is no denying that he spotted me. With my father probably still tied up in the next room, it is up to me to get us both out of here alive.
I may have just ruined that.
The door flies open, slamming against the wall. I jump. Dropping my hands, I look up to find Richard staring at me. “Were you trying to escape, Roanne?” he asks, stepping into the room. Kicking the door closed, he begins to move toward me. “You’re making me regret my decision to remove the handcuffs.”
“No,” I reply honestly.
“Don’t lie,” he snaps, pointing his finger at me accusingly. “You were going to leave Daddy behind to die and go running back to the man who found it so easy to walk away from you before. You loved him, but that wasn’t enough to make him stay, was it?” His eyes are dark and menacing as they rake over me, sending a chill down my spine. “How far do you think you’d make it?”
“How do you know that?” I ask, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. “About Jensen. How do you know any of that?”
“I know everything.” His tone is frigid and terrifying. “Like how, even though your father never loved my mother enough to give her his name, he sure as hell refused to let her be happy with my father.”
“I had no idea about the affair, until recently. I’d only just met your mother,” I reply, honestly. “I sure as hell don’t agree with what they did. What our parents did was wrong. There’s no denying that. But we don’t have to be part of any of it. Ivy’s vendetta against my father doesn’t have to be yours. We can leave right now.”
“What our parents did was wrong,” he repeats my words. “What they did was push a man to take his own life. They didn’t give a shit about who they hurt. The damage Olivia and Alfred did with their deception is no different than putting a gun to my father’s head and pulling the goddamn trigger themselves.
No matter what he did, he couldn’t keep my mother happy. She was Alfred’s whore, swept up in the smug bastard’s empty promises and pillow talk. Every time the phone rang, my father knew she was going to see him. She never even tried to hide it.” Balling his fists, he shakes his head. “Kyle Laswell was a better man than Alfred could ever be. Because of them, he wasn’t there for my graduation; there to tell me how proud he was of my accomplishments. He put a gun in his mouth while Olivia was out fucking your father. I found his body in our foyer, brains splattered all over my mother’s four-thousand-dollar chaise lounge, along with a note saying that Alfred had won. After that, she sent me away to a boarding school, in Colorado. She said I was a reminder of what she had lost.” His hand slams down on the table. “I lost the one person who was always there for me!” he shouts. “Do you have any fucking idea what that feels like?”
“Yes,” I reply, swallowing hard. “I do, and I’m so sorry.”
“You’re right, Roanne,” he says, nodding his head. “Ivy’s issues with your father don’t have anything to do with me. I have enough of my own. Ones that I demand he pay for. And because of my badge, no one ever looked into me, or questioned any fucking thing I did. It has been almost too easy. Sure, I had to kill the actual investigator assigned to handle your father’s case, but that fuck never knew what hit him. The local law here bought my story without not even so much as a call from my superiors.”
Standing to my feet, I hold up a hand, hoping to calm him down. “Richard—”
“Alfred took what didn’t belong to him. It ruined my father. Killed him and took away the only good parts of my life. When Ivy came to me with this plan of hers, I jumped at the chance to even the score.” Wrapping his fingers around my throat, he slams my back to the wall. I gasp, my hands gripping his forearm. “I wonder what Stone will think when he finds out that I’ve taken what he claimed.” His eyes heat, a smile playing on his lips. “You think he’ll want you after I’ve fucked you?”