Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Lucian
My entire body is loose and languid from what she’s just done to me.
Her dark hair is tousled from my fingers twisting in it, her lips red and puffy from using them fully around me. I glance at her sexy outfit, my flannel, and nothing else, with my jacket draped over her like a blanket.
“I’ve got to make some calls,” I say. “And don’t you dare get dressed.”
Her smile is like a promise that goes straight to my core.
I leave her with a kiss.
Shoving my phone, smokes, and lighter in my jeans pockets, I grab my gray wool sweater from my bag, pulling it on as I step onto the cabin’s back porch, the wind slicing across the moors like a blade.
Her oral sex skills have come a long way from that day she choked, trying to swallow, then ended up spitting all over me.
I grin at the memory,
I light a cigarette—my first since the one I had with Blaze—and let it burn between my fingers, trying not to keep thinking about how I could have lost her if I’d gotten here any later.
It was clear we’re going to need some help—backup: eyes, ears, and guns.
Men are stationed in the trees that line the edges of the moor, and they're the only thing keeping Caleb and his men at bay.
She left me behind, thinking I’d let her walk right into the arms of the man who tried to kill her sister. The rage is constant, simmering just beneath my skin, but it’s the fear underneath that makes my hands shake.
I’m going to need more than my brothers. I need someone who knows the Hoax and how these men work. The leader of the Kings mafia, a small but mighty force from a tiny island off the coast of Scotland.
Bayne. I met him years ago. When I was with my other gang, my first band of brothers. Where I met my best friend, Carlos, the leader.
The man who betrayed me.
All my men but Rafe died that day. Isobel, too, though she wasn’t supposed to be there.
Rafe and I had to hide out for a while after that.
We stayed at a safehouse. Red Shutters. A small stone cottage hidden on the land border of England and Scotland.
When things were clear, I got back to New York as fast as I could. Rafe and I lost touch after that. Bayne and I still check in every few years.
My phone’s already in my hand. I scroll past every contact until I find one I swore I’d never use again. When I joined Bachman’s, I told myself I’d never dip back into my past.
I also told myself I’d never let myself fall in love again.
So much for that.
Bayne.
The phone rings once.
Twice.
Then I hear the low rumble of a voice I haven’t heard in over a decade.
“Lucifer fuckin’ Bachman, ye wee devil!” Bayne drawls in that thick Scottish Isle brogue. “Didn’t expect your number. Who’s dead?”
“No one yet,” I mutter. “But I may be soon if you don’t show your ugly mug,” a joke between us, Bayne being ridiculously good-looking and overly confident, his only physical flaw his crooked smile, the one the girls went wild for.
“And you are, where?”
“Over here in nowhere England, surrounded by sheep and not much else. You’d love it.”
He laughs. “Sounds like home.”
“And just like home, there are issues here.”
There’s a pause. “If it’s important enough for you to ring me after all these years, I’m guessing this ‘issue’ involves a lass?”
“Aye,” I laugh, copying his brogue.
“I’m listening.”
I keep it brief. The Hoax is the King’s archenemy. I tell him about the bruised girl named Mary, the missing girls, the creeping threats, and the boots outside Erin’s cabin.
Bayne doesn’t interrupt. Just listens. Then gives a low whistle.
“You’ve poked the nest of the Hoax, eh?” he finally says. “Nasty fuckers. They’ve expanded. Multiple leaders. East Glasgow’s been a mess. Where is Caleb now?”
“He went to university in England. That’s where he met Cass. Swore he was out of the Hoax.” I share the information Cass gave me, which my team confirmed this morning. “Now, we’re pretty sure he’s taken over a town in England. Somewhere close to where Erin grew up.”
Bayne grunts. “Has he contacted Erin since she landed?”
“No,” I answer too quickly. “Wait. She mentioned boot prints, but hasn’t said—”
“And you haven’t asked, directly, ‘has he contacted you,’” he asks, smug as always.
“I need to.”
“Women with men like us feel like they need to keep secrets from time to time. To protect us. Get every ounce of information you can from her. Call me back.”
“I will,” I promise, delighted by the prospect of caressing secrets from her beautiful body. “Until then, can you do me a favor?”
“Depends.
“Find Caleb, isolate him, and keep The Hoax off your back until we figure this out.”
Bayne chuckles. “Still as bossy as Rafe says you were back then.”
“And I can still kick anyone’s ass I need to.”
“Doubt it, old man,” he says, but there's affection under his words.
“Old? You’ve got a decade on me, don’t you?”
“And don’t look a day over it. You know me. I only have one weakness.”
“I remember.” He had beautiful horses on his property, Romani Cobbs, with large brown and white spots, long brown and white manes, and pretty, long white hair hanging down their legs over their hooves.
I got to visit the day before we left. “Illegal street horse-cart racing, a hobby you picked up from your great-grandfather’s Romani traveling people’s heritage. ”
“Great memory.”
“It was an incredible race. Hard to forget.”
“Kitt won’t let me ride anymore. She says, "Leave it to the younger men." I only place bets and watch now. I guess I am old.” He laughs, but the sound is short. “I’ll start making calls. Callum is over in Glasgow. He’s got a solid team under his feet.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ll help you, brother, but you owe me a bottle of Aberfeldy. None of that weak American shit you drink now.”
“Done.”
I hang up and stare at the world beyond the cabin.
The fog was thick when we first woke, now rising and dissipating. Things are starting to clear up. And there’s only one way to make sure I have all the information I need.
Time to interrogate.