16. Nova
Chapter sixteen
Nova
I hold Harper as she cries in my arms. I’m not sure the fact that this is over has registered for Harper. Christ, it’s barely registered for me. The other six girls I spent last night and today locked in a dingy room with still sit on the ground with us. Some are quiet, and some are holding each other, much like Harper and I, as we all try to wrap our heads around what the fuck just happened.
When Tony found me outside the window yesterday, there was no doubt in my mind that I was done for. Harper and I were going to be shipped off to Russia, and no one would know where we had disappeared to. When he threw me in that room, Harper started crying and didn’t stop the entire night, apologizing over and over for involving me in the hell she was facing. Though I tried to reassure her, there wasn’t much I could say. There were two men in the house with several guns, and they had no qualms with using them—as witnessed when one of the guys pistol-whipped a girl in the head for crying too loudly, then pulled the trigger when she cried from that. He was the piece of shit hiding behind the heavy container door whom I shot. Too bad it didn’t kill him, but I have a feeling Cillian or the other guys with him will make him wish I had.
“We need to get this cleaned up,” a guy with Cillian says. “Kingston and Hendrix, you two grab the vans and help the girls get settled in one. Abel and Cillian, you two load these assholes into the other van, and we’ll drive them out.”
“What about the one who's still alive?” the man, who I’m assuming is Abel, asks.
“He can take a little trip with his dead friends in the back. Grab the rope and tie him up.”
Two of the men nod and jog off to where I’m guessing their vans are parked.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
The man doling out orders answers, “Back to our hotel. From there, we can figure out what to do with everyone.”
“I’m sorry, but why should we trust you? I don’t even know your name,” I reply.
The man lets out a deep breath. “Sorry about that, love.” He may think his English accent is charming or soothing, but he’d be wrong on both counts. “I’m Liam Ashcroft. This is my team. Sawyer and Abel”—he gestures to two of the men—"as well as Kingston and Hendrix, who will be right back so we can get you all out of here. And I believe you already know Cillian.”
The two men who I’ve never seen before today nod in my direction.
“And who exactly are you?”
“I run a private security firm out of Philadelphia and also dabble in breaking human trafficking rings, which is what you and the rest of the girls were about to be sold into.”
“Dabble?” I ask, quirking my brow.
“Well, it doesn’t exactly pay the bills, so I can't say it’s my full-time job.”
“I’ve been working with Liam and his team for a few months. That’s what I’ve been doing in New Orleans,” Cillian interjects.
“How does this tie into you being…well, what you are?” I’m not sure how open he is with his current career as a mob lieutenant if, for all accounts and purposes, these are the good guys. Though, I suppose that term is relative.
“Finn’s lieutenant?” Liam asks, looking between the two of us. “It’s no secret, love. That’s how we met actually. My brother’s MC and his organization go way back. Me and my guys aren’t exactly delicate little flowers who let the law have all the fun, are we?”
Sawyer and Abel laugh and shake their heads as they step around us when Hendrix and Kingston park the two Sprinter vans on either side of the open container, probably trying to hide the dead bodies that are still lying on the ground.
Jesus, this is fun for them?
“Listen, as much as I’d love to stand here and play the get-to-know-you game, we need to get out of here,” Liam says. “I’d rather not have to explain two dead bodies, a shitload of guns, and a van full of scared women to port security or the police.”
I look around to the girls on the ground with me. They aren’t saying anything, but they look hopeful, like maybe they’re desperate to believe these guys really are here to save them.
“I’ll be honest, I don’t know the rest of these guys, but I know this one.” I point to Cillian. “And when it comes to making sure we get out of here safely, I trust him. If he’s working with the English rose over here”—I point my thumb toward Liam and he smirks—“I trust him, too.”
“You’ve got your work cut out for you with that one, mate,” Liam says to Cillian as he pats him on the shoulder and walks over to Abel to help him clean up the shell casings.
The girls look between me and Cillian and begin standing one by one from the ground. Sawyer, the less intimidating one of the group, comes over with a small, gentle smile on his face.
“Ladies, we’re going to take you back to the hotel. You can shower, and we'll get you some food. Does anyone need medical attention?” They all shake their heads no. “Okay. We’ll get you back to your families right away.” I watch a few of the girl’s faces fall, and Sawyer notices it too. “Don’t worry. If you don't have anywhere to go, we have homes set up for women who were in similar situations. Follow me.” He nods to one of the vans, and Harper and I also start to walk in that direction.
“Not so fast, you two,” Cillian says.
“What?” He’d better not try to hash out my sudden departure last month right now. I’m fucking tired, dirty, and hungry. Not to mention the fact that I’m still carrying the gun I just used to shoot a man. Now is not the time.
“Tony knows who you are. Both of you.” He looks between Harper and me. “And if there’s one thing I know about that asshole, it’s he’s going to hold a grudge like you’ve never seen against both of you. Especially because he knows that we’re…acquainted.”
“What do you mean? What do you suggest, then?” I ask.
“I’m taking you back to Boston with me. You need protection until we take out Farina.”
“We’ll be fine. We can go stay with my aunt and uncle or something. No need to bother.” I attempt to move past him, but he steps in my way. Again.
“You want to put your aunt and uncle in the crosshairs of the Italian Mafia?” he asks.
“No, I don’t, but I’m not sure if I can trust you.”
He looks at me with surprise. “You just told those girls they could.”
“It’s not my safety or any of the others that I question. When I heard your voice, any doubts I had about you working with Tony were squashed.” It’s the fact that I hate depending on anyone, especially someone who I was starting to have serious feelings for and who has ties to an MC I’ve been actively avoiding. I haven’t asked him if his connection to them has anything to do with him helping me because, quite frankly, I’m afraid of his answer. I don’t trust my heart not to break if I’m right, and if the reason he was so keen on meeting up with me last month was that he was doing it as some sort of favor to Ozzy, that’s exactly what will happen. I’d rather deal with Ozzy, even after all these months of avoiding him and his entire club, than have my heart shattered by the man standing in front of me.
“You thought I was working with that piece of shit?” The look of disgust on his face is impossible to ignore and makes me feel like a shit person for even considering it.
“I didn’t know what was going on, but when I looked in his wallet and saw he was from Massachusetts, well… I assumed the criminal world up there can’t be that big. So, yeah. The thought crossed my mind.” It’s an asshole thing to admit after everything that went down, but it’s the truth. I may be a thief, but I own my shit.
Cillian shakes his head and looks away from me as his jaw clenches.
“It’s not as though you ever told me what ‘business’ you had in New Orleans. How was I supposed to know for sure you weren’t here to help him?”
“Jesus, Nova. Just…stop talking. The fact that we spent as much time together as we did should have clued you in on the fact that I’m nothing like that waste of human life.”
“Well, Tony did a fantastic job of hiding who he was for the last few months. It’s not like I’m so off base knowing you don’t exactly make your money legally.” I have no idea why I’m defending my assumption, considering I’ve never been more happy to be wrong in my entire life.
“Neither do you, but that’s one hell of a leap.” He looks to Liam and the other guys who have finished cleaning up the scene. At least it looks better than it did a few minutes ago. “We need to go.”
“We’ll come with you tonight, but like I said, we’re going it alone after that.”
“The fuck you are. If you can think of somewhere other than a place where you put more people in danger, then I’ll take you there. You aren’t going to your aunt and uncle’s, and you aren’t going with the other girls and putting them back in Tony’s crosshairs. So, for now, you’re coming with me.”
He turns on his heel, effectively cutting off any other argument I would have on my tongue.
“Let’s just go with him for now. We’ll figure something else out,” Harper says. “But if Tony is as dangerous as he says, then going to your aunt and uncle’s definitely isn’t the right move.”
“I know,” I reply even though it pains me to admit Cillian is right. While we walk to the van, I think about the shitstorm I’ve found myself in. Going with Liam to where he’s taking the girls who have no other safe place is out of the question. Having Harper and I there could potentially put them in danger all over again if what Cillian says is right, and I have no interest in that. We can’t go back to our place for obvious reasons. We probably should get out of New Orleans altogether. A thought crosses my mind. It’s something I would only consider since Harper is with me, and there’s no way I’m leaving her until all this is flushed out. I hate the idea to my very marrow, but I love my best friend more than I hate the person who owes me something big.
“There’s a place I think we can go.” He’s going to shit his pants when I call him expecting his help. “Fuck, I don’t have my phone.”
“I’m sure you can use Cillian’s if you know the number.”
“Oh, I guarantee Cillian already has it.”
When we get back to the hotel, Liam’s team makes sure all the women have showered and eaten before loading them back into a van. He doesn’t want to waste time getting the girls to a safer location and urges Cillian to do the same.
The profound sense of relief I felt when I heard Cillian’s voice was like something out of a dream—or a nightmare, considering the situation I was in. He came to save me in a situation where I was sure we were all doomed. I’ll never forget it. But now that relief has given way to all the questions, suspicion, and anger I’ve held toward him for the last month. It’s the kind of feeling you can only have toward someone who you were so close to giving your heart to, only to find out they betrayed you.
“You did good today, mate,” Liam tells Cillian as they stand in front of the hotel room. It's an out-of-the-way roadside motel off one of the highways leading out of New Orleans. I may or may not be eavesdropping on the other side of the door, but if they wanted their conversation private, they should have picked somewhere else to stand.
“So you're taking the girls back with you?” Liam asks.
“I don’t know where else to put them. At least I can hide them in Finn’s penthouse until all this is taken care of. Where’s Hendrix?”
The man in question left in a van with the dead bodies and the guy I shot about an hour ago.
“We have a little place not too far from here. I have some questions for the asshole your girl put a couple bullets in. I’ll be meeting him there as soon as I get the other women situated.”
“Not my girl.”
I peek around the curtain and catch sight of Liam’s expression that screams Yeah, right, even though he keeps his mouth shut. I don’t know why on earth Liam would think anything differently than what Cillian just told him. We aren’t together, and I have a sneaking suspicion Cillian will want to keep it that way.
“Alright then, I’ll be in touch when I get the info we need,” Liam says.
“What are you going to do with him when you're finished?”
“What I did to his buddy back at the port.”
Cillian nods, but I can't see his expression seeing as I’m staring at the back of his head.
When he turns to open the door, I jump on the bed next to Harper’s. She’s sound asleep in hers, probably like I should be, but the reality of where I’m taking us is sitting in my gut like a lead weight. I keep reminding myself I’m doing this so she’ll be safe. Because if I know one thing about the Black Roses, it’s that they protect women at all costs, even to the possible loss of their lives.
Cillian walks into the room and looks at me, then Harper, before nodding toward the door, signaling for me to follow. When we get outside, I close the door so we don’t wake my best friend, who desperately needs some rest.
“You decide where I’m taking you?”
“Yup.”
We stare at each other with so much anger between us. He’s obviously still pissed that I ran out on him, and I’m none too happy with the idea that he lied to me about knowing Ozzy.
“You care to clue me in?”
“I need your phone to make a call. Considering you know the person, I’m sure you have his number.”
Cillian stares at me in confusion. “Who’s number could I possibly have?”
“Ozzy’s.”
His head rears back while his brows furrow even deeper than a moment ago. “Ozzy, the president of the Black Roses, Ozzy?”
“That would be the one.”
“How do you know the president of a one-percenter motorcycle club? Actually”—he holds his hand up to stop me from answering—“nothing about you would surprise me.”
“Oh, that’s really fucking rich coming from you.”
“Why the hell are you so fucking mad at me? You’re the one who took off a month ago and left me waiting for you like a fucking idiot in a bar. And you stole my fucking car because you were so desperate to get away from me.” He’s attempting to keep his voice down but every word is enunciated clear as day through clenched teeth.
“Well, let's ask your friend Ozzy, shall we? I’m sure he can shed some light on why I hate him and his club.”
“If you hate them so much, why do you want to call him? And what could Ozzy possibly tell me about you that would explain why you apparently hate me now or why you ran from me in the first place?”
“Dial him up and ask him.” I wave my hand to Cillian’s pocket, where I see the outline of his phone.
“I’m surprised you didn’t lift it and make the call yourself,” he mumbles while he pulls the device from his pants.
“Phones these days are fingerprint protected at the very least. Unless you're suggesting I take your finger, too.”
Cillian rolls his eyes like a twelve-year-old girl and presses the screen before bringing the phone to his ear.
“Hey, Ozzy. Sorry to bother you so late. I have a girl here that says she knows you.” He’s silent for a few moments. “Nova.” Ozzy must tell him exactly who I am because when his gaze collides with mine again, his eyes widen and there’s a look of pity that I fucking hate in them. “Yeah.” He hands me the phone, and I keep my gaze locked with his.
“Hello,” I say to the man I’ve never actually spoken to.
“Nova, is everything okay? What are you doing with Cillian Doyle?”
My spine bristles. Does he seriously think he has the right to question anything I’m doing—or be concerned for me at all?
“Long story, but my best friend and I got mixed up in a fucked-up situation and Cillian wants us somewhere safe. Since you owe me, I figured you’d be inclined to help.”
“Of course. Anything you need. We take care of our own.”
“I’m not yours, Ozzy, and the only reason I’m reaching out is because my best friend’s life is on the line.”
Ozzy is silent for a few moments before I hear him exhale a lengthy breath. “Okay, Nova. I get it.”
“I need to ask you something, and I need you to be one-hundred-percent honest with me.”
“I’ve never been in the habit of lying, and I don’t intend to start now. If I can answer any questions you have, I will.”
I’m not sure that makes me feel any better. What would be considered a question he couldn’t answer?
“Did you send Cillian to New Orleans to keep an eye on me?”
“Nova, until about two minutes ago, I had no idea Cillian was in New Orleans. Our club does business with the Irish, and we’ve helped each other out when our interests are aligned, but we don’t exactly call each other and chitchat about our business. I have never asked Cillian to track you down or keep an eye on you. If I thought you needed safekeeping, I would have sent one of our guys, not the Irish.”
I stare at Cillian, who doesn’t look any less angry than he did a few minutes ago.
“Okay. I’m coming to Shine with my best friend, and we need a place to hide out until Cillian takes care of some business. This isn’t going to make us even though, Ozzy. But Cooper told me your club protects people who need it.”
“I’ll make damn sure no one hurts you under our watch, Nova. That’s the least I owe to Cooper.”
I don’t rage at him for daring to speak my brother’s name to me. Like I said before, I’m doing this for Harper. I don’t need to like the man or his club if it gets her the protection she needs. At least staying with them doesn’t have the potential of destroying my heart like staying with Cillian would.
So he didn’t know about me when he came back to New Orleans. At least he isn’t the liar I pegged him as. But if the last twenty-four hours have proven anything, it’s that I need out of this life, and he is firmly entrenched in it. I want a life filled with sunshine and a little place to call my own. I don’t want to deal with MCs, the Mafia, or mob lieutenants who look at me like I’ve betrayed them.
“I’ll see you in a few days then, Ozzy.”
I hand the phone back to Cillian before giving Ozzy a chance to respond.
“Hey. Yeah, we’ll be flying out tomorrow. Thanks for clearing that up.” He’s silent for a few more moments. “Loud and clear. Goodbye.”
He disconnects the call and looks at me. “Satisfied?”
Hardly. “Yeah. What did you hear loud and clear?”
“Ozzy warning me to keep my hands to myself.”
“Little late for that.”
“He doesn’t have anything to worry about.”
Fucking ouch.
“It seems you and I need to have a very candid discussion,” Cillian says with that don’t you dare argue with me look on his face.
“Seems so.”
Fuck. Admitting I’m wrong sucks.