Chapter 16
A bigail scampers out of the room, while I admire the curve of her ass. I could never have predicted leaving the door unlocked would give me such a sweet reward. At most, I expected her to pop her head in, blush and turn tail. But no, instead, she froze, eyes glued to my movements, and fuck if my cock didn’t get harder under her attention.
It was all I could do not to order her to come closer so I could drag her into the shower with me. Instead, I tightened my grip to stave off my impending orgasm until the door clicked closed behind her. Then, with thoughts of seeing that blush up close and personal and following it with my tongue flashing through my mind, I came with a groan.
As tempting as it is to spend the day pushing my wife’s limits to see how much it would take for her to snap, business calls. James and Alastor, two of my capos, are waiting for me so we can oversee the gun shipment being shipped out to Belfast.
Part of the overhaul I’m working on includes getting rid of the reputation Angus had spent his time as Boss tarnishing us with, and if going to this warehouse to shake a few hands helps do that then that’s a small ask in the grand scheme of things.
“We good to go?” I ask James as I approach him and Alastor. I have no clue if I can trust these two despite their place in the hierarchy. Not how things are normally done but then again, we’re not normally trying to clean up the mess of human trafficking and a coup at the same time.
I’d be a fool not to watch my back. Which is why I insisted on making Peter my second and Alex my consigliere. Let the Old Guard stick their noses in everything else, but I’d sooner let someone chop my balls off than let them fill those two roles for me.
“Yep, just waiting on you, Boss,” Alastor says with a chin tilt.
With Alex tailing us on his Harley, we make quick work of getting to the warehouse a few miles outside of the city. Sirens greet us as we get closer, and with a muttered curse, James stomps on the brakes.
“What’s the pigs doing here?” he spits as we survey the mess of cop cars on the horizon. Those fuckers shouldn’t be anywhere near this operation.
“Nothing good,” I mutter as we follow Alex into a side street. Climbing out of the car, I round it to meet him at the bumper.
“There’s been a fucking tip of by the looks of it. That’s a raid if I’ve ever seen one. If we set foot in there, they’ll be sniffing around the compound quicker than we can blink.”
“Fucking hell. We don’t have time for this shit,” I growl, kicking at the bumper of the car. Waiting for the cops to clear out is a painful necessity. As much as I would love to barge in there and get things back on track, drawing attention to the Clan is not what we need right now. There are too many plates I’m trying to spin on the tip of my finger as it is without adding another one.
As we make our way inside when the last cruiser clears out, it becomes clear that the whole place has been turned over. There’s absolutely nothing except a few empty crates. No guns, no amo, no workers. Months of work up in flames just like that. Cursing, I excuse myself to call Jonathan.
“What?” Always such a warm greeting from him.
“We’ve a situation here. The Daniels deal? It was raided,” I inform him as I pace the length of the warehouse.
“A mole?”
“Maybe. Or a weak link,” I confirm as I look around. The only people who knew about this on my end are standing in this room, and I trust Alex with my life.
“Any you can interrogate?” He’s all too familiar with the mess my father left behind and how poison like that can spread like wildfire if left unchecked.
“Not exactly, not without reason.” Admitting any kind of weakness goes against every instinct I have but this is part of why I needed this fucking merger in the first place.
“Then find a reason,” he snaps before continuing, “Owen and Brennan are ready to start the other operation whenever you are.”
“Roger that. I’ll text Owen to set something up.”
“I take it His Highness isn’t impressed,” Alex says, when I hang up.
With a snort, I shake my head, and we clear out to head back to the compound. Shit is getting messier by the day and I’ve more questions than answers.
Time to see if I can’t change that.
“We know Angus was organising auctions to traffic women and girls. Age, race and status seems to vary both for them and the buyers. We also know he sold your mum, and you have your suspicions he might have sold Helen,” Owen recaps in the video call.
“We also know the lorry driver that hit Helen was Tony Bell, a friend of my father’s who upped and vanished after the accident,” I offer as I toss my foam rugby from one hand to the other.
“Tony short for anything?” Brennan asks as he types away on his computer.
“Not that I know of. No family either that’s come looking for him,” I offer, and with a grunt, Brennan puts himself on mute as he takes what we know and does what he does best.
“How’s married life treating you?” Owen asks me, looking every bit the relaxed and content man that he is these days.
“Can’t complain. It’s nice having someone else here who I know isn’t planning to stab me in the back.” I laugh before sobering up. “You don’t happen to have any Abigail insights to share with me, do you?”
“That would be putting me in the middle of my girl and her best friend… which nope. Not happening.”
“Right, so Tony Bell is clearly a fake name. Freya Graham is registered as living in Belfast for a few years after she would have been sold. The address she was linked to belongs to a Mr Benedict. No first name.”
“Fancy a trip to Belfast?” I ask aloud.
If we can get the man who took my mum, or at least had her for a while, to talk, then we might just be able to find out what happened to her.
And maybe that can lead to answers on what happened to Helen.