Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Bryan
T he tires screech as I take the turn, the SUV skidding slightly before I correct. My fingers clench around the wheel, white-knuckled, the tension coiled so tight in my chest it feels like I might snap.
Harper was taken…
By Eddie fucking Mason .
I grit my teeth, rage boiling just beneath my skin.
When the waitress from the pub called, looking for me, telling me Jamie Rowan grabbed her , I was pissed.
When Logan shrugged and said there was nothing to be done about it ?
I lost my goddamn mind.
Like fuck I was going to stand by while Harper was carted off by those lowlife bastards. I minded my business. They crossed the line and interfered in my business.
The problem was, I didn’t know how to find her.
Until Kieran said, that won’t be a problem .
Because he tagged her jacket.
I damn near clocked him for going behind my back, but right now, all that matters is that it worked.
And it led us here .
The gated mansion in front of us is lit up like a red-carpet event, spotlights sweeping over sleek black cars lined in the driveway, tuxedoed men stepping through the grand entrance as if they belong to some exclusive club. That’s fine.
It’s not the first time I’ve crashed a party uninvited.
I pull the SUV up to the gatehouse, keeping my expression blank as the guard steps out. He’s got an earpiece, a semi-automatic slung casually over his shoulder like he’s the last line of defense to something important.
Not fucking likely.
The second he leans down toward my window, I raise my gun and put a bullet through his skull.
His head snaps back, his sprawled body collapsing in a heap. I’m already out of the truck, dragging him behind the brick shelter before he can bleed out in full view of the front cameras.
Leaning into the gatehouse, I slap the gate release button and the heavy wrought-iron gates creak open.
Jumping back into the truck, I slam my foot down on the gas and gun it up the laneway.
The odds of getting out of here in the same vehicle are slim, but I’m an optimist, so I back into a spot just shy of the circle drive, far enough from the entrance to stay in the shadows.
Kieran and I move fast, slipping along the side of the house where the real security lurks.
Two guards stand near a side entrance, their focus on their smokes and the main event.
They don’t even hear us coming.
Kieran moves first, slipping up behind the taller one, his blade piercing the man’s neck. I take the second, pressing the silencer to the base of his skull and pulling the trigger.
They drop soundlessly.
We drag them into the bushes and step over their bodies without pause.
The door is unlocked— idiots . We slip inside.
The energy in the mansion is charged , thick with the hum of conversation, the distant clinking of expensive crystal. Somewhere deeper in the house, a voice rises over the din.
Is that a motherfucking auctioneer?
I move before my mind weighs in, stalking down the golden halls, my gun steady in my grip. Kieran keeps pace, his focus locked in no matter how idiotic he knows this is.
We follow the voice down a long staff corridor to an inconspicuous door leading to the main part of the mansion. And then we’re in.
The grand ballroom is dressed in deep shadows, the crimson walls spackled with glittering light from the massive chandeliers above. I tuck my gun into my waistband and select a black and red masquerade mask from the selection strewn as a display on the entrance table.
Kieran follows my lead and covers his face with one that is emerald green.
Men in sharp tuxedos and masks stand in clusters, cigars dangling from their fingers, the air thick with expensive cologne and something darker.
I loathe this world.
This isn’t business. Masked. Hidden. Watching men of means bid on things no man should own. They reckon themselves above morality. It is an affront to everything I believe in—everything I stand for.
My stomach twists, fury rising like a storm in my chest. Then my gaze finds the stage—and the woman strung up for the current bidding.
My vision blurs red .
Harper.
Bile burns up my throat as the knot in my stomach twists. Harper is hanging from her wrists, naked, her head lolling forward, unconscious.
She’s the prize for the highest bidder.
The beast inside me breaks free .
I raise my gun and fire .
The first bullet takes the auctioneer between the eyes. The second shatters a chandelier, sending shards of crystal raining down.
The room explodes into chaos.
Screams. Shouts. A stampede of expensive shoes scrambling toward the exits.
I don’t stop moving.
I don’t fucking blink .
Anyone stupid enough to get between me and Harper gets a bullet for their trouble.
One to the throat.
One to the gut.
Another between the eyes.
I vault onto the stage, shoving another body out of my way. Harper’s arms are stretched taut, her wrists zip-tied to a cold metal hook. Blood trickles down her forearms where the plastic has cut deep.
I move fast. Handing Kieran my gun, I lift her weight with one arm, gripping the hook with my free hand and snap it clean off.
Harper sags against me, her body limp.
I throw her over my shoulder and reclaim my gun. “Let’s move!”
Kieran is already cutting a path through the chaos, dropping bodies as we fight our way out. I don’t even feel bad for breaking the truce Logan set up for us.
I made my point clear the first time I pulled Harper from their creepy claws. No one— no one —is taking this woman as a commodity.
And fuck them for trying.
The guests of this depravity have run for the hills, and only Mason slime and muscle remain.
Shooting our way past the lax security is just another Thursday night for these Dublin boys.
Despite my doubts when we arrived, we make it back to our parked vehicle without issue. Either Eddie reckons he’s got things locked down tighter than he does or he’s an idiot because when my family puts on an event, we’ve got the entire fucking MC on security.
Kieran opens the back door, and I climb in and get Harper settled on the seat. The door is slammed shut and Kieran has the engine growling and the tires spinning in the next second.
“Harper, wake up. Harper?” I try to sit her up, but I’m not getting anything. “She’s out. What the fuck did they give her?”
“No idea. If it were normal trafficking, I’d say they’d get her hooked on opiates. I have no idea what kind of shape those degenerate daddies expect their purchases to be in.”
We tear past the open gates and down the darkened road beyond. Kieran pushes it for everything it’s got and we don’t look back. The city lights of Liverpool shrink behind us, fading into the distance.
Good fucking riddance.
“I don’t suppose we’ll be invited back to Liverpool anytime soon.”
Kieran chuckles deep in his throat. “I don’t suppose. But we got to keep our masks as a parting gift.”
I pull mine off and toss it into the front seat. “Seriously fucked up. If you’re not man enough to show your face, you’re not man enough to be doing what you’re doing.”
“I hear that.”
I knew Mason was a snake, but that was another level of depravity.
I pull my knife from my pocket and cut the plastic ties binding her wrists. Harper stirs, a quiet whimper escaping her lips. She’s still out, but she’s shivering, her skin covered in goosebumps.
“Shit, let’s get you warmed up a bit.” It takes a fair bit of backseat maneuvering for me to get my leather jacket and then my T-shirt off, and then get it on her while still offering her some level of privacy.
When I’ve got all her bits covered, she curls on her side and groans. The tension in her frame eases, and she seems to slip into a more restful oblivion.
I run my thumb along the deep red welts chewed into her wrists and wince. Fucking bastards. This wasn’t my fault—I know that—but it happened on my watch.
If that waitress hadn’t tracked me down…
I close my eyes and force the rage burning in my veins down. We got there in time. That’s all that matters.
“Rest now, trouble. We’ve got you.”
* * *
“Come again? What the fuck did you just say?”
I tip my head back and close my eyes, thankful there is no way Tag can reach through the phone and beat me bloody from a distance.
“Aye, you heard me. I’m sorry, brother. But I couldn’t let it go. The girl was grabbed up while working with us and if you’d seen the set up and how they had naked women hanging on hooks to be bid on…you wouldn’t have done any different.”
There’s a long beat of silence and then Tag lets out an exasperated breath. “How angry are the families?”
I scrub a rough hand over my face and wince at the massive headache taking root. “Well, we wore masks, so the Masons will have a fairly good idea it was us, but won’t have any proof.”
“And the Watsons?”
“Och, meddling in Mason business was a hard line we crossed. Logan couldn’t back us on it, even though he didn’t seem totally against us doing it.”
“And where does that leave us?”
“With his permission, we made it easier for him to deny any responsibility. I roughed him up enough to make it look good and tied him to his bed. The maid will find him in the morning, and he’ll play his part.”
“His people will see through that.”
“Aye, they will. Still, it gives us time to get relocated outside the blast zone.”
The line muffles as he covers the speaker of his phone and says something. “All right. Where are you now?”
“Harper’s research on Sentinel pinged shortly after she left for the food. It turned up a farmhouse in Yorkshire that, according to the utility companies, came into use at the same time that Siobhan’s trail was lost in Liverpool. The usage it’s clocking is weird—like way too much for a property of that sort. It could be her.”
“Or it could be someone totally unrelated, and she might be in Liverpool and now inaccessible because you lost sight of the aim and blew up our fucking chance. You went soft on a girl, and risked the life and livelihood of your fucking family.”
“Fuck you, Tag. I dream about wrapping my fingers around Siobhan’s throat and squeezing until her eyes burst from her fucking head. I haven’t lost sight of a damned thing. I’ve done nothing but work toward finding her and ending her before she can testify.”
“And playing the hero for a Canadian girl, who, by your own admission, was angling to get herself kidnapped in the first place? What the fuck was that?”
The pounding behind my eyes is starting to affect my vision. “Aye, well, she’s got more fire than she has experience with made men.”
Someone says something to Tag from the background and then Tag sighs. “Aye, all right, Finny. I’ll be right there.”
The security beep at the hotel door has me turning as Kieran comes in with a couple of bags of food. He lifts his chin at me talking on the phone, but is smart enough to keep quiet.
Hell, if I’d had any choice, I wouldn’t have called Tag to tell him any of this.
“Pull your shit together, little brother. Find the bitch. End her. And then get your arses home before you make enemies out of every crime family in Britain, yeah?”
“That’s the plan.”
“And here’s hoping you don’t fuck us over any more than you have already.”
I roll my eyes and regret it when a spearing pain explodes in my skull. “Fuck you, too.”
“Aye, I reckon you’ve done that rather spectacularly.”
The line goes dead and the sudden silence echoes like a rush in my ears.
“How bad is it?”
I shrug and toss my phone onto the table of our suite. “Not as bad as it could’ve been. What did you bring us?”
Kieran hands me the bag of food and I open it up, struck by the rich scents of Indian food. My stomach rumbles in appreciation. “Well done. Tell me this place is close. This smells delicious.”
“Right on the corner. I got biriyani, chicken vindaloo, tandoori, masala, and a fuck ton of naan. I’m so hungry I could eat it all myself.”
“Good luck getting my half. I’ve killed tonight for less.”
Kieran chuckles and the two of us settle in to fill our bellies. Despite him being a talker, the nice thing about Kieran is he also knows when to stop talking and let the world fall silent.
This is one of those times.
While I devour two heaping plates full of food, I try to sort out our situation. The cooperation between the Watsons and the Quinns is blown to hell. The Masons will likely take a day or two to regroup and then come gunning for us. And we still aren’t sure if we’re even in the right place.
We’re on our own now—which makes things easier .
But Harper is now part of this, and that makes things more complicated. Depending on what they drugged her with, the next few hours and days could be a nightmare.
I glance into the second bedroom of the suite. She’s curled up like a boiled shrimp and hasn’t moved in the past hour. I’m hoping she’s just been hit with one hell of a tranquilizer, but I wouldn’t bet on it.
Eddie Mason is scum. Odds are he hooks the girls on some shit as soon as they’re in his possession.
“Call Doc Kelvin and find out what we need to cut through the shit they pumped into her. Can Narcan help? I don’t know enough about it to stick her with something. Find out.”
Kieran nods, his attention locked on ripping a chunk of naan. “Now?”
“When you’re done your dinner.”
I settle back into my thoughts, the what ifs clawing at me, relentlessly.
What if we hadn’t gotten to her in time?
What if we got there ten minutes later?
What if she had been sold to the highest bidder, disappearing forever into the abyss of Mason’s twisted network?
My jaw clenches as I drag a hand down my face. But the thing that makes me just as sick—maybe even sicker—is the fact that we left other women behind.
We saw them. Chained. Drugged. Terrified. Helpless.
And we had to leave them.
I exhale hard, a decision settling deep in my bones.
Once I find Siobhan, once I settle that score, I’ll help Harper find her answers and shut this down. Eddie Mason is going to regret coming after Harper. I warned him.
And he still poked the beast.