29. Calling In A Favor
Chapter 29
Calling In A Favor
HUNTER
“ T his is unexpected,” Psycho greets me, his voice carrying the slightest edge of amusement as I step into the dimly lit house. The air inside is thick with the scent of tobacco, sweat, and something metallic that lingers just beneath the surface—blood, perhaps, though I don’t care to confirm.
The headquarters of Blood Nation in East Los Angeles is unassuming from the outside, but inside, it hums with quiet menace. A low murmur of voices filters through the walls, punctuated by laughter and the occasional sharp bark of command. It’s the kind of place where secrets live and die in the same breath, where loyalty is earned with blood, and betrayal is met with it.
“I’m calling in a favor,” I reply, my voice steady as I meet Psycho’s sharp, dark eyes. He’s aptly nicknamed—there’s something unhinged in the way he tilts his head, like he’s already imagining how he’d take me apart if given the chance.
“El Jefe wasn’t expecting you, Middleton.”
“I realize that. Nevertheless, I need to speak to him.”
“And you came alone?” His smirk widens, a predator catching the scent of a challenge.
“I did.”
“Armed?”
“You’re seriously asking?”
His body shakes with a low chuckle, an unsettling sound that seems to vibrate in the walls around us.
“Frisk him,” he orders two men who step forward from the shadows. They’re big, broad, and silent, the kind of men whose names you never need to know because they only serve one purpose.
“No need,” I say, keeping my movements deliberate as I pull my piece from its holster. The weight of the gun in my hand is both reassuring and regretful—I’d never walk into a place like this unarmed under normal circumstances. But tonight isn’t normal. I set it carefully on a maple wood accent table to my right. Its polished surface gleams under the dim overhead light, a sharp contrast to the peeling wallpaper and scuffed floorboards.
Psycho stares me down, his grin unwavering. I hold his gaze, unflinching. Finally, he snorts.
“I’ll go see if El Jefe has time for you.”
I exhale slowly as he disappears down a hallway. This needs to go smoothly, but nothing is ever easy when you’re dealing with men who’ve spent their entire lives learning to trust no one.
When Mateo finally enters, he does so with the force of a storm. Short but solidly built, his presence fills the room like a thunderclap. His heavy boots thud against the floor, each step deliberate, each movement speaking of power barely restrained. He looks like a man born to fight, his body a map of scars and muscle that tells a story of battles won and lost.
“Middleton,” he says, his voice low and gravelly.
“Mateo,” I return evenly.
“We didn’t have a meeting on the books, and this isn’t your local stomping grounds. What brings you here? Must be serious as fuck.”
“I’m calling in my favor,” I say, getting right to the point.
Mateo raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. In this business, favors are worth more than gold—currency that can buy you anything from loyalty to a second chance at life. A flicker of understanding passes over his face.
“What is it?”
I lean forward slightly, lowering my voice. “I received several anonymous texts. Someone’s watching me. Threatening me to stay away from my fiancée.”
Mateo leans back against the wall, crossing his thick arms over his chest. His brow furrows, but his eyes remain sharp and calculating.
“Okay,” he says slowly. “What’s that got to do with Blood Nation? We don’t threaten people over the phone.”
“I know it isn’t you,” I say. “But I know who it is.”
“Fabre.” His lip curls in distaste, the name landing like a curse between us.
“Exactly. He’s making a move in L.A., Mateo. Think about it. If I’m out of the way, he can pull all the strings he wants unchecked, turning this city into his playground. By the end of the year, he’ll have everyone at each other’s throats, which is exactly what he wants—chaos.”
Mateo’s jaw tightens, his expression hardening. He doesn’t like where this is going. “This sounds like a you problem, vato.”
“Then why did I just clean up a dead member of your organization tonight?”
Mateo stiffens, his dark eyes narrowing. “What the fuck did you just say?”
“A Blood Nation member,” I repeat, my tone measured. “Dead. At The Shaded Lamp.”
His eyes dart to the side, his mind racing. “Who?”
“I don’t know his name, but my team saw his ink. He’s definitely one of yours.”
He mutters something in Spanish, his words sharp and clipped. “Who the hell would be all the way over at The Shaded Lamp?” He looks at me again, suspicion and anger flickering across his face. “Why didn’t you call me right away?”
“You weren’t my client, Mateo. The client who hired me wanted the body gone, and that’s the service we provided. I’m only telling you now because it’s odd—a Blood Nation member, dead in East Rider territory, and no one saw anything. This has Fabre’s fingerprints written all over it.”
Mateo rubs his jaw, his movements tense. “What do you want from me, Middleton?”
“Fabre’s fucking with me tonight,” I say bluntly. “And yes, my fiancée is involved.”
“He knows she’s your weakness.”
“Yes, it’s no secret I’d burn down this entire city for her. I’m just trying my damndest not to have to.”
Mateo studies me for a long moment, his eyes unreadable. Then he nods. “We all have our Achilles heels, vato.”
“And it usually involves family, doesn’t it?” I remind him of why he owes me a favor in the first place, my voice steady.
“Verdadero,” he mutters what I think is the word truth in Spanish. “What’s the favor?”
I meet his gaze, unflinching. “Fabre thinks he’s untouchable. I suggest we use your manpower and my resources to prove him wrong. We put him down like the dog he is.”
I glance at my Rolex. Time is slipping away. “Your job starts immediately. I need to get to the hospital to see my child born. You need to make sure I get there in one piece.”
Mateo smirks, but there’s steel behind it. “With your luck, that sounds like a tall order.”
“I don’t believe in luck,” I reply. “And neither should you.”
Mateo puts me in the back seat of a black SUV flanked by two of his “most trusted” soldiers. Their trustworthiness doesn’t inspire much confidence—they’re stoic and silent, their eyes sharp as they scan the streets, hands never far from their concealed weapons. Every pothole we hit rattles my nerves, and I grip my phone like a lifeline. Vulnerability isn’t something I wear well, and tonight it feels like a second skin I can’t peel off.
As we drive through the darkened streets of East L.A., I tap out a quick text to Christian.
Me:On my way. Keep your head on a swivel.
The last thing I need is for him to be caught off guard. My screen lights up with texts from Lena, rapid-fire messages asking where I am. At least I know Christian hasn’t told her much yet, though that won’t last long. I reply to her as well, keeping it brief.
Me: Almost there.
The hospital looms ahead, its fluorescent lights glaring against the night sky. The soldiers don’t say a word as they pull up to the emergency room entrance, but I feel their eyes on me as I step out. I glance back once—they give me a curt nod, then drive off into the shadows. Mateo keeps his promises, at least for now.
The moment I walk inside, the sterile smell of antiseptic mixed with the faint aroma of stale coffee hits me. The hum of the ER surrounds me—phones ringing, nurses calling out patient names, the shuffle of hurried feet against linoleum floors. But I don’t see any of it because Lena spots me, and her scream cuts through the chaos.
“Hunter!”
She launches herself at me like a bullet train, crashing into my chest with enough force to knock the wind out of me. Her arms wrap around my waist, clutching me like I’m a lifeline, and I hold her just as tightly. For a moment, the world narrows to this embrace, a shared assurance that, despite everything, we’re here, and we’re okay.
“Is she all right?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
Christian appears beside us, his hand landing on my shoulder—a rare gesture that catches me off guard. His usual stoic expression cracks ever so slightly, betraying the stress he’s been under.
“Lars is with her,” he says. “I’ll tell the nurses that you’re here.”
My blood turns to ice at his words. Something about his tone, about the fact that Lars is with Megan, sends a shiver down my spine.
“Is she dead?” I blurt, the one question I’ve been dreading to ask since I got that first frantic text.
“Dead?” Lena repeats, her face pale with shock. “No, of course not. Go see her!”
I don’t wait for more. My legs carry me down the hallway on autopilot, my heart pounding louder with every step. I push open the door to her room, bracing myself for the worst.
Megan lies on her back, her legs propped up at a ninety-degree angle with pillows. She looks exhausted, her rich skin tone sallow but alive, her hands clasped tightly with Lars’s. His head droops like he’s seconds away from passing out himself.
Our eyes meet the moment she sees me, and relief floods through me like a tidal wave. She’s here. She’s alive. She’s safe.
“Hunter,” she whispers, her voice fragile but filled with more emotion than I’ve ever heard from her before.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” I say, crossing the room in three strides.
Lars lifts his head, his expression softening with a look of palpable relief.
“Thank you, Lars,” I say earnestly.
He stands, stretching his arms. “I’ll be right outside.”
The look I give him is sharp, a silent warning I’ve given him a dozen times before. Don’t let your guard down. He nods and steps out without another word. I know he’ll stay by the door like a sentry, ready to act if anything—or anyone—threatens her.
Before I can say anything else, my lips cover Megan’s in a possessive kiss I’m not sure which one of us needs more.
Afterward, I lay my hand on Megan’s swollen belly. Her warmth grounds me, but the sight of her hooked up to a monitor twists something deep in my gut.
“Are you okay?”
“I am now.” She smiles.
“No, but really.”
“They’ve given me an epidural,” she explains, her voice steady but tired. “For the pain. They’re keeping an eye on me because I was bleeding earlier.”
“Bleeding?” My voice rises, my chest tightening.
“It was frightening,” she admits, “but the doctor said it wasn’t dangerous.”
“And the baby?”
“Your future little badass wants to join us tonight,” she says with a small smile. “But I’m not dilated enough to start pushing yet.”
“So I didn’t miss anything?”
Her smile softens into something more intimate, more profound. “No. You’re right on time.”
The tenderness of her words barely has time to sink in before her face contorts with discomfort. I’m at her side in an instant, leaning over her, searching for a way to help. I desperately want to take her pain away, but in this circumstance, I detest how helpless I am.
“I thought you were on pain meds,” I say, brushing a strand of damp hair from her forehead. Her curls have been styled into two long braids with a middle part, making her appear even younger than she is.
“It’s not pain exactly,” she says through gritted teeth. “More like pressure.”
“I’ll get the doctor.”
Her hand shoots out, grabbing mine. “No, don’t leave!”
“I won’t.” I press a kiss to her forehead, guilt gnawing at me for not being here sooner. “Where’s the nurse’s button?”
She presses it herself, grimacing as another contraction takes hold. Minutes later, a nurse enters, her dark blue scrubs wrinkled but her demeanor calm and professional.
“You’re coming along nicely,” she says after a quick check.
“And the earlier bleeding?” I demand, my voice sharper than intended.
The nurse hesitates, glancing at Megan for what feels like permission to speak to me.
“He’s my fiancé,” Megan assures her.
“It was just a bloody show, which is perfectly normal,” the nurse explains. “Her body is preparing for delivery.”
The words ease some of the tension coiled in my chest, but not all. After she leaves, I pull up a chair and sit as close to Megan as possible.
“Turn on your side if you can,” I tell her. “I’ll massage your back.”
“Get under the gown,” she orders, a spark of humor lighting her tired eyes.
“Are you trying to seduce me in the middle of labor?” I tease, earning a weak chuckle.
But her laughter fades as another contraction grips her, and I hold her hand tightly, helpless but determined to be here for her.
A text lights up my phone.
Mateo:Assholes watching you at the hospital have been eliminated. Enjoy the night, vato.
Relief floods through me, though I quickly pocket the phone before Megan notices.
“Hunter?” Her voice pulls me back.
“Yeah, babe?”
“Can you get Mary? I think my water just broke.”