25. Did You Tell Hunter?
Chapter 25
Did You Tell Hunter?
MEGAN
“ W here are you?” I ask, cutting through the panic in the woman’s voice. She’s falling apart, and if I’m going to pull this off, I know I need to keep her calm.
“The Shaded Lamp,” she says, almost in a daze. “In the back room. I don’t know what to do. They told me this number would?—”
“I’ll handle it,” I say, my voice firm but calm. I quickly remember the next question I’m supposed to ask.
“Is there anyone else with you?”
“No.”
“Has anyone seen you or…the body?”
“No.”
“Good, just stay where you are. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Don’t touch anything.”
She starts to say something, but I hang up before she can continue. I don’t need to hear any more right now—I’ve got enough to go on.
I grab my coat, the weight of the baby making every movement slower than I’d like. As I stand, I wince as another sharp kick lands against my ribs. “Easy, baby Middleton,” I mutter, rubbing my belly. “We’ve got work to do.”
Gage notices me standing and frowns. “Something up?”
“A call came in,” I say, pulling on my coat. “Just need to handle it.”
“Did you tell Hunter?”
“And why would I do that? You know he’s recovering.”
“Okay, well, are you sure you don’t want Vaughn or Christian to go with you?” His eyes flicker to my belly, concern etched on his face.
“I’m sure,” I say firmly, not bothering to defend my decision. I’ve learned that most people still don’t understand how deep I am in Hunter’s world now.
I can handle this.
Christian and Vaughn immediately spot me waddling to the exit door and follow after me.
“And where do you think you’re headed in such a hurry?” Vaughn asks.
“I got a call.”
Both of their faces contort in a look that screams, “Oh my fucking god.”
“What kind of a call?”
“A clean up.”
Hunter explained to me a few weeks ago that at this point in his career, albeit begrudgingly, he mainly handles negotiations between underworld figures in disputes and charges them a shit ton of money to do so. He doesn’t do cleanups much anymore, but if a call comes in from a trusted source, he won’t ignore it.
“A cleanup?” Christian echoes.
“Yes.”
“The streets are already questioning if Hunter is out of commission,” Vaughn tells me.
“And?”
“And a sudden clean-up call feels like a setup.”
“I have Hunter’s emergency cell phone in my possession. We can’t ignore the fact that she called the number and sounded scared as shit on the call,” I tell them.
“Some random woman called Hunter for a cleanup?” Christian asks. “That’s definitely a setup. You’re not going.”
“I’m going.”
“This makes no fucking sense, Megan. You’re about to drop a baby any minute,” Vaughn counters, pointing toward my stomach for effect. “You’re putting yourself in danger. Hunter couldn’t have possibly agreed to this.”
He’s right.
Hunter would kill me if he knew what I was up to. He made it clear that if, by some small chance, I actually received a call on that bat phone of his, I should tell Vaughn and Christian right away and let them handle it.
At least I kept half my word.
“Listen, I know that none of us expected an actual call to come in, but it has. What do you want me to do? We’re supposed to be running things as if it’s business as usual. And I’m not dropping this baby in any minute. I’ve got a whole month.”
“The jig will be up when whoever called sees a pregnant college student come to the rescue. What the hell can you do?”
“I have a brain, if you recall, and if there’s any heavy lifting, Lars will take care of it. You all can’t keep this side of the business from me forever, especially when I’ve already been on the receiving end of some of your mistakes,” I say, reminding them both of when I was abducted and almost shot.
“I’m coming then,” Christian says.
“No, Lars is coming. You don’t send a whole team to a clean-up.”
“You’ve been talking to Hunter.”
“Obviously!” I say, flustered. “He has more faith in me than you two do.”
“And if I call him to check that he’s on board with this?” Vaughn asks me.
“Then you and I are going to have problems. I told everyone that he’s to be left alone until he’s released.”
“Well, I’m definitely putting a team on you,” Vaughn says through a growl. He’s never been on board with me in charge, but it doesn’t come from a spiteful place. I know he truly cares about my safety and thinks it would be best if I stayed home and painted landscapes until the baby comes.
Hell, he’s probably right.
“There’s been a security team on me for weeks, so let’s not pretend otherwise,” I say with a hand on my hip.
“You know?”
“Of course I do.”
“Do I need to fire somebody?”
“No, Vaughn,” I chuckle. “Hunter told me weeks ago.”
“That henpecked motherfucker. You weren’t supposed to know.”
“I’ll call you with an update,” I tell them both, ending the conversation. “I promise.”
I step outside into the cool night air, the chill instantly making my skin tingle. Lars is waiting by the car, leaning against the hood with his arms crossed. He knows something’s up as soon as he sees me. This is not the usual time I leave the club.
“What’s going on?” he asks, his voice low and steady, but I can tell by the way he’s watching me that he’s already in problem-solving mode.
I walk over to him, feeling the weight of the situation settle on my shoulders. “I got a call from a woman at The Shaded Lamp. There’s a body in the back room.”
Lars straightens immediately, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not going there alone.”
“I wasn’t planning on it,” I reply, giving him a pointed look. I know better than to walk into a situation like this without backup. Plus, Lars still feels guilty about Naomi’s father abducting me, so this is an opportunity for him to redeem himself, although I’ve never assigned any blame to him for that.
He nods, his expression hard. “Let’s go, then.”
We climb into the car, and the ride is quiet as we drive through the city. The streets blur past, but my mind is focused on what’s coming next. I’ve run the scenario script through my head a thousand times, but this is real life. There is always the risk of something going wrong. Always the chance that one mistake could unravel everything.
I want to call Hunter and hear his voice, for a pep talk, for some guidance, but that would be a terrible idea. All I want is for him to focus on his recovery and to be a hundred percent healthy when the baby comes. But I know that man; if I told him what I was about to do, he’d check out of the rehab and come after me in a flash.
The Shaded Lamp comes into view, its neon sign flickering weakly in the night. It’s a dive bar—one that caters to a rough crowd—and the thought of dealing with whatever’s waiting inside makes my stomach churn.
Maybe this was a dumb idea?
But I push the feeling down. I have to stay focused.
As we pull up, I spot a woman pacing nervously near the entrance. She looks out of place here—like she doesn’t belong, but she’s trying to blend in anyway. Her hands are shaking, and she’s chewing on her bottom lip like she might chew it clean off.
Lars and I step out of the car, and as soon as she sees me, her face falls.
“You’re the one I talked to?” she asks, her eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re... you’re pregnant.”
The disappointment in her voice is clear, and I don’t blame her. She was expecting a legendary fixer—my Hunter. Instead, she gets me, a pregnant woman who paints portraits.
“I am,” I say, standing taller. “But that doesn’t matter. I’m here to help you with your problem. Now, take me to the body.”
She blinks at me, then at Lars, clearly unsure of what to make of the situation, but eventually, she nods and leads us inside. The bar is dark and dingy, smelling of stale beer and desperation. The few patrons at the front don’t even glance our way, too drunk or too tired to care about what’s happening around them.
The woman pushes open a door at the back, and my heart tightens as I see the body. It’s a man slumped against the wall, his face bruised and bloody, a deep gash on his head. Blood pools around him, staining the cracked floor.
Lars steps forward, his gaze sweeping over the scene. “What happened?”
“He... he was causing trouble,” the woman stammers, her hands trembling. “He wouldn’t leave, got into a fight with one of my guys. He tripped, hit his head on the bar, and then... then he wasn’t moving.”
I remember my script.
Hunter is only called for important people and as gross as this bar may be, this woman must be connected to someone who matters.
“Where’s your guy?” I ask her.
Her eyes drop to the floor. “He ran.”
“Who is he?” I ask about the body.
Her voice quivers as she explains. “I didn’t see the tattoo on his wrist until I tried searching him for ID. He’s part of the Blood Nation.”
While I don’t know all the intricacies of every group that Hunter has worked with, I know enough to understand that a dead Blood Nation member on a bar room floor is never a good thing.
I take a deep breath, the weight of the situation settling on my shoulders. “Alright,” I say, keeping my voice calm. “We’re going to handle this. You got it?” I ask Lars.
Lars nods, already with his phone out, texting whoever Hunter usually calls to handle scenarios like this. Meanwhile, I turn back to the woman. She’s on the verge of tears, her hands shaking as she wrings them together.
“You need to keep calm,” I tell her, my tone firm but reassuring. “No one can or will know about this. We’ll take care of the body, but you need to make sure no one in the bar talks, especially your guy on the run. It would be best if you found him. Understood?”
She nods quickly, swallowing hard. “I understand. I’ll make sure no one says anything.”
As Lars finishes making the call, I take one last look at the scene and wonder how young Hunter was when he first had to handle something like this. Was he my age? Was he even younger? It would explain so much.
“How much longer before the bar closes?” I ask her.
“Hours.”
“I suggest you go out there, announce last call, then go home and handle finding your person. That’s the priority.”
“Okay…I’m sorry, what’s your name?”
Lars gives me a side-eye warning.
“We don’t need to get into names,” I tell her. “Let’s get to work,” I say, my voice steady, even as the baby kicks again—a jab to the ribs that feels even stronger than the last time.
“Oww!” I bend at the waist.
“Are you okay?” the woman asks.
Before I assure her that I’m an incubator for a future soccer star, another intense kick takes my breath away.
“Hey?” Lars approaches, ending his text exchange and placing a hand on my shoulder.
Another kick happens, and the pain seems to travel around the side of my belly and up my spine.
“Fuckkkk!” I bellow.
“She might be in labor,” the woman says to Lars.
“No,” I interject firmly. “I have another month.”
The pain intensifies.
It doesn’t feel like just a kick anymore.
Just pain.
And that’s when it hits me.
I’m in a dive bar with a dead body, and something is very wrong with my baby.
Hunter’s going to lose his shit when he hears about this.