Scar (Black Hearts MC #8)

Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

SCAR

Every fibre of my being is screaming at me to go after her. The muscles in my body are strung so tight it feels like they could snap.

“We are doing the right thing,” Ghost assures me.

Grinding my teeth together, I fight back the fury that is flowing through me. My eyes land on him. “Keep fucking telling yourself that, because if she ends up dead it’s on you,” I growl.

His cold hard stare pins me in place, but I don’t flinch, unphased by his intimidation. He glides a phone across to me and I look down at it, reading the name that’s on the screen along with a number.

“Her number. You are stored on her phone as Sally,” he states. I frown, wondering when the fuck they got her number. “We will get her out, we will kill Eugene and Layton, and we will make them fucking pay for everything they have done to Acid, to you, and to her. They. Will. Pay,” he says through gritted teeth.

“And your plan?” I counter. “Because I don’t think she will last months. Even if she doesn’t get her ass beaten, I don’t think she can survive months. Not mentally,” I argue.

“Give me 4 weeks and I will have her out, and Eugene and Layton will be in the fucking warehouse strung up like they’re in a fucking abattoir,” Ghost says with a smile on his lips. His eyes spark with excitement at the thought. I ain’t going to lie, the idea of them both hanging there in our warehouse begging for their lives makes me practically hard. I want nothing more than to make them suffer.

“How long have you been planning this?” I press, knowing damn well he’s had something in the pipeline for a while.

His smile widens. “Since I spoke to her back at the bar when you were still in their basement.”

I blanch, jolting my head back and raising my brow. “You’re fucking shitting me?”

Ghost shakes his head no. “No, I’m fucking not. It would have been sooner if you were still in there, but then obviously the plan changed and you got out. So, I’ve had to adjust the original plan, but one main objective has always remained the same. Kill fucking Eugene,” he states firmly.

I nod, liking that idea, wanting that idea. “So, when do we message her and what? We have to be fucking careful, because if that fucking cunt Layton even gets a sniff that she’s in contact with anyone other than this Sally person, then he won’t let her out of his sight. He will beat her black and fucking blue,” I state, reminding him of the delicate situation we are in.

Ghost sits back in his chair. “Now that’s the one part of the plan I am not sure of. You know her better than me, than any of us. You call her, when you think she will be ready to hear from you, but you don’t tell her everything. You keep your mouth shut about what’s happening,” Ghost warns.

“She wouldn’t fucking say anything,” I argue.

“I know that, but her facial expressions might. We use contact with her as only a confirmation of where they will be, of making sure she is alive. Nothing more,” he adds. He pauses for a moment, just watching me. “I don’t have to tell you that if you are messaging her, then be careful what you say and how you word everything,” Ghost adds.

I roll my eyes as I take the phone and slide it into my pocket “I ain’t fucking stupid.”

Ghost’s lips twitch. I sigh and shake my head, rubbing the palm of my hand over my chest. Seeing her has caused an ache and pain in my fucking chest. “She yours?” Ghost asks.

My gaze snaps to his. “I care about her. She saved my fucking life more than once,” I grit out. I’ve never thought of her as mine. My heart, my fucking mind was only consumed with Rhea, pining after her like a fucking puppy, even though I knew it was a dead end. It had been months. I had accepted Acid and Rhea, and hell, after seeing them together, they were fucking perfect. I’m over Rhea, but I ain’t over the pain of the fucking rejection. As a guy that never put his heart on the line, and never feeling anything with my heart, only my dick, to finally think that I’ve found the one, only for me to discover that she doesn’t want me the same way I want her. It fucking hurt. It’s a new type of pain, one I fucking don’t want to feel again. So, while I find Elsie attractive, while I care about her a lot, there ain’t no fucking way I’m letting my heart feel that way ever again.

Ghost just gives me a grunt in response and stands. He pulls out a large wad of cash from his back pocket and places it down on the table. “For the inconvenience caused, darlin’,” he calls out to Lizzie.

She blows him a kiss. “Anytime, sweetheart,” she calls back. The brothers all file out, following Ghost. I am the last to get to my feet. Lizzie walks over with her cloth in hand and begins to wipe down the table, collecting the money as she goes. “Do me a favour sweetheart, and let me know she is okay,” Lizzie states, looking up at me. Her eyes are soft and full of concern.

I drape my arm over her shoulders and place a kiss on the top of her head. “Yeah darlin’, I will,” I confirm. I give the back of her neck a gentle squeeze before walking towards the door.

“You don’t get her out, she will die,” Lizzie adds, causing me to pause. With my hand on the door, I turn to look at her. “I’ve been there, you get used to the beatings. It’s everything else that destroys you. It gets to a point that when the beatings come, you pray that they will be the end. You pray that they will finally kill you.” Her voice breaks a little as she clutches the cloth in her hands tightly.

My grip tightens on the door. “Did he pay for what he did?” I ask through gritted teeth, because whoever it was that did that to Lizzie, we would hunt the fucker down and kill that mother fucker.

She gives me a small smile, knowing exactly why I am asking. She nods. “In prison on an 18 year stretch for manslaughter,” she states softly. “For killing my sister.”

I blink. Not her, her sister. “Name,” I demand. She knows the connections, the power Ghost has to take care of shit in prison if it’s required.

Lizzie pauses for a moment, then she sighs. “Daniel Evans from Eastmound.”

I just give her a curt nod and then leave.

Two days later I’m sat at the bar back at the club, staring at the phone Ghost gave me, wondering if I should call her. “You know for that thing to work, you have to pick it up and actually press some buttons,” Star states sarcastically from where she’s sitting behind me at the bar.

I give her a look and knock back the rest of my drink. “I’m trying to decide if I call her, what do I fucking say?” I state, not bothering to go into the details of who it is, as I know Ghost would have told her everything. “What if someone else answers her phone?”

“You could speak in a lady’s voice, like ‘ hi, I’m like calling to speak with erm, your girl, as like we are total bff’s’,” Bambi suggests, turning his voice into a high pitched squeal. I slowly turn my gaze to his. He tenses when he sees my expression. “Or not.” He shrugs sheepishly before slinging the cloth over his shoulder and disappearing as quickly as his feet will take him.

Star snorts with laughter. “I fucking love that kid.” I grunt and pour myself another shot of whiskey, tensing when Star snatches the bottle off me. “How many have you had?” she asks.

“Not enough,” I answer.

She rolls her eyes and as she places the bottle down, she snatches the phone and hits the call button. My eyes go wide, and I try to reach for the phone, but she jumps off the stool and swats my hand away. She puts it on speaker so I can hear, and after 5 rings I think she isn’t going to answer, then the phone clicks.

“Hello?” Elsie’s soft voice answers.

“Hi, this is Sally,” Star answers. I try to get the phone off her, but she keeps side stepping out of my grasp. “From Chic Couture,” she adds. I pause and frown, confused at where she is going with this. “It’s about your wedding dress, are you available to talk?” Star asks.

How in the fuck did she find out the name of the bridal shop Elsie went to?

“Just a second,” Elsie answers.

Star looks at me with a wink. We hear a man’s voice on the other end. “Go on. I don’t want to know baby, but if she starts asking for more money, tell her to go and fuck herself.” Fucking prick Layton.

We hear what sounds like a click of a door and then Elsie speaks. “Hi, sorry about that. I was with my fiancé and you were on speaker, so I had to make sure I moved to a new room. What seems to be the problem with the dress?” she asks politely.

“Are you able to talk to me off speaker, just in case your fiancé would walk back in? I wouldn’t want to spoil anything before your big day,” Star says as she gives me a wink.

“Of course,” Elsie says, pausing for a split second. “Okay, all good,” she states.

Star holds out the phone to me and I step forward and take it from her. Star walks back over to the bar, giving me some privacy but staying close just in case she is needed again.

“Angel,” I say softly. I hear her suck in a shuddery breath.

“How did you? You shouldn’t be calling me,” she whispers.

“This is a burner, so it can’t be traced. I need to know you are okay, and I want you to know that if you ever need me, to call this number,” I tell her.

“I’m...” She pauses. “I’m okay,” she whispers, but something in her voice leads me to think otherwise.

“Meet me at the bridal shop,” I demand.

“Wait, I can’t. I...” she stammers.

“I don’t care when. Make it out to be an appointment, a fitting, anything,” I tell her.

“Um, the morning of the 9 th ,” she whispers.

“That’s 10 days away,” I point out.

“It’s the only time I can think that it would be okay. They go away, and Mother goes off to one of her beauty retreats, and if they are to believe it is in fact the bridal shop, an immediate appointment wouldn’t happen,” she adds quietly.

“Fine,” I reluctantly agree. “But if anything happens before then, you call, text, anything, and I will fucking be there. Understand?” I growl.

“I will,” she whispers.

“Promise me,” I press.

I swear I can hear her smiling. “I promise.”

“Good, now tell me what you’re wearing,” I tease.

Her laughter sings down the phone to me. “I’ve got to go,” she whispers, her voice lighter than when she answered.

“Fine, see you soon Angel,” I sigh.

“Bye,” she whispers, then disconnects the call.

Exhaling a long breath, I turn around to see Star sat at the bar whit a shit eating grin. “What?” I sigh.

She smiles and shrugs. “I think you like her,” she points out.

“Of course I like her, she saved my damn life,” I counter.

Star shakes her head. “Nope, it’s more than that. You like her, like her.”

I glare at her. “That isn’t what this is. She’s a friend, and I ain’t ever getting involved like that again,” I affirm.

I half-expected Star to press, to push the conversation further like she normally does. Instead, she surprises the shit out of my me by nodding. “Okay. If you say so.” She shrugs.

I raise my brow at her, wondering what exactly her angle is, but she just hops off the stool, places a gentle kiss on my cheek, and saunters off. I look around to see if anyone else witnessed this. Jesus, she must be concussed or some shit.