Chapter 17 #2
“Yeah, the meeting went well. Nowak is happy to stick with us if we can match what Ranger has offered, which is simple enough. I’m calling about something else, though. One of the guys in Chicago has a lead for us. He’s got Spider’s driver.”
I immediately perk up. “Finally, some good news.”
“He’s being brought to the city, and I can speak to him.”
“Speak?”
He laughs softly. “Ghost will speak to him.”
I groan. “You’re sexy when you say things like that.”
“Am I, Deluxe?” he says, the deep timbre of his voice giving me shudders. “How sexy?”
“Sexy enough to—”
“Do not finish that sentence,” Ronan rasps.
I startle, almost dropping the phone, and get to my feet. Ronan blinks up at me, green eyes half open and groggy, but awake. He’s fucking awake.
“Colt, he’s awake!” I say.
“I’m on my way.”
I place my phone down and cup Ronan’s cheek, his stubble tickling my palm. Finn’s nephew. The head of the family. The man who will rule by Colt’s side until we leave.
My friend.
“Hey,” I whisper, my smile wide.
He places his hand over mine. “Hey, Deluxe.”
Sebastian is still checking Ronan’s vitals when Colt gets home. He barrels through the door, his smile almost cracking his face as he stands by my chair.
“You fucker,” he says. “How are you feeling?”
“Like someone dropped several trucks on me,” Ronan croaks.
“Really? You look fantastic.”
He laughs weakly. “Where’s everyone else?”
“I’m here,” Alistair says from the doorway. Colt must have put aside the argument to call him. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks a lot,” Ronan says.
Colt says, “JJ and Taf are on their way over. Your mom is, too. Danielle is in San Francisco, but she’s going to fly home.”
Ronan winces slightly as he adjusts his position. “Why is she there?”
Oh, God. We have to tell him that Finn, Wilder, and Alison are gone. Colt and Sebastian exchange looks, and the subtle shake of Sebastian’s head goes unnoticed by Ronan.
Another thing that can wait.
“She was visiting friends,” I say.
“Tell me what I’ve missed,” Ronan says, even though he looks close to falling asleep.
Colt takes his friend’s hand. “That can wait. You’re gonna feel rough as shit for a few weeks. Focus on getting better.”
Ronan nods, closing his eyes. His breathing evens out quickly, and Colt gestures at me and Alistair to follow him out of the room. The hallway is dark, and the tension is taut in the small space as I look between the two friends.
“Spider’s driver is being delivered to New York tomorrow,” Colt says to Alistair. “I’m going to get what information out of him that I can. I just thought you should know.”
Alistair nods stiffly. “Okay.”
“And anytime you want to apologize for insinuating Denver almost fucked Vince, feel free.”
My eyes widen. “Colt.”
“Anytime you feel like apologizing for accusing me of sending that footage, I’m all fucking ears,” Alistair hits back, keeping his voice as low as he can. “We’ve been friends for two decades. I can’t believe you’d even think I’d do that.”
“Well,” I whisper. “To be fair, you really don’t like me.”
“But I love him,” Alistair snaps. “You’re my brother, Colt. I don’t like Denver, but I wouldn’t send her to fucking jail, and fuck you for thinking I would.”
He walks away, disappearing down the stairs, and I let my head drop back. I’m the first person to admit that I’m stubborn, but this is ridiculous. I expect Colt to go after him, but he remains in place, his expression thunderous.
“You’re just gonna stand there?” I whisper.
He steps close, eyes wide. “You’re taking his side?”
“I’m not taking anyone’s side!” I say, throwing my hands up dramatically. “But we just got Ronan back. How can you both not realize we should be pulling together? This is good news.”
“Tell him that.”
“Fine, if you won’t, I will!” I half shove him out the way and take the stairs. Cold air blasts into the house as I open the door and take the steps to the street, calling Alistair’s name as he opens his car door. I jog toward him. “This is ridiculous. You both need to make up.”
“It’s none of your business.”
I seize the car door before he can close it. “We got married. We got married, and the first thing he wanted to do was tell you, and he couldn’t.”
Alistair grits his teeth, jaw tensing, and looks away. “Congratulations.”
“Alistair.” I plead with him with my eyes. “He loves you, too, you know he does. We’ve lost so much these last few months. Please, just—”
Screeching tires have my head whipping to the right. I’m yanked forward, my chest meeting Alistair’s as he pulls us both into the car, my back thudding into the center console as we lie across both seats, his body covering mine.
Bullets slam into the side of the car. It’s a constant barrage of thuds, tiny metal meeting the door and bulletproof windows. Alistair’s head is buried in my neck, his weight heavy and warm against me, his breath hot against my skin until we’re eventually plunged into silence.
“You good?” he asks, and I nod wordlessly. He reaches behind him, unholstering his gun, and pushes himself up on his other hand to look down on me. “Don’t move.”
“I can’t, you’re on top of me,” I wheeze.
“Denver.” He takes my chin in his hand. “I’m not going to watch Colt grieve another woman he loves. Don’t. Fucking. Move.”
He’s gone before I can object, and my own stubbornness comes into play.
I sit up, peeking through the seats and through the back window.
A car comes to a stop near the end of the street and men pile out.
Scrambling forward, I lean out of the car to watch Alistair load his weapon and take confident strides forward.
My eyes widen as he aims—and fires. His bullet lands true, and the man leading the charge is flung back, a bloom of blood and skull where his face should be.
A second round of bullets joins Alistair’s, and my gaze moves to the house, where Colt is taking the steps down to the street with total ease.
Together, they take down each man. Their shoulders are relaxed, steps even and bold, and when one reloads or ducks behind a car for cover, the other takes charge.
It’s a symphony, a dance of death likely practiced over years of friendship—two powerful men coming together and removing a threat without hesitation.
Sweat coats my brow as the firing stops and silence descends once more.
I slump back on the seat, rest my forearm over my eyes, and sigh.
I cannot wait to leave this fucking life.