Chapter 16
ASH
J amie and Sawyer go upstairs, leaving Trick and I alone to talk in private.
We get through the hard stuff quickly. He’s cautious when he asks if I need to be taken to the hospital or want to talk to our sister, or another woman, about anything that happened. Things I might not want to discuss with him.
I assure him nothing like that happened.
I’m fine, other than getting banged in the mouth during them trying to drug me and practically freezing my butt off in my skivvies in the underground jail cell.
I use the word skivvies on purpose because it’s the cute word for underwear he uses with his boys.
I know my light-hearted tone when talking about the cold cell eases his mind because the crease between his brows softens.
When he’s comfortable he’s not gonna traumatize me by asking questions, he draws out as many details as I can recall. I close my eyes, focusing, and let it all spill out.
Sitting cross-legged on the deep modular sofa, I describe the cars, the kidnappers’ masks and body armor, and their physical characteristics and numbers .
“What’s weird is I didn’t get even one license plate, Scotty. I tried.”
“They were covered.” It’s War’s voice.
“What?” Opening my eyes, I’m startled by his bloody lip.
What the hell? C or Sasha hit him in the mouth? Why?
War pauses at the end of the couch, facing my brother. “They had something dark—maybe black duct tape—over the plates. Couldn’t get a read.”
“Sounds pretty well executed,” Scott says. “Paramilitary training, maybe.”
A crease pinches between War’s brows as he contemplates this. “They had expensive gear. But didn’t carry themselves like paid badasses.”
Scott leans forward, intent. “What makes you say that?”
War cocks his head. “I don’t know. An off-the-cuff impression.”
As War moves toward the stairs, Scott says, “Where you going?”
Looking over his shoulder, War says, “Why?” His tone isn’t hostile, but it’s not exactly friendly either.
“There might be details you have that would help.”
“I already laid it out for them.” He nods at C and Sasha.
“Yeah, but doesn’t hurt to lay it out again,” C says. “Sometimes new details emerge. Also, we’re all gonna take a drive to the wreck site now. It might jog your memory or hers.”
Frowning, War exhales heavily and walks back to the hook where he hung his coat.
Standing, I frown. “No, War, you should go up.” Shifting my attention to C, I say, “War can come later.”
“How would he do that, baby? He’s got no vehicle.” C’s tone is way more patient and less authoritative now that it’s directed at me rather than War.
It’s probably warranted since I was feeling pretty emotional half an hour ago, but I’ll be damned if I let it stand .
Flipping my hand over in a “come on” gesture, I say, “Well then, someone should wait here and bring him afterward.”
C’s eyes narrow. “Why?”
“Because, didn’t he tell you about the scratches and puncture wounds? There was fabric in one of them when I pulled a dart out, and we weren’t sure about the water, so?—”
“Ashling.” War shakes his head. “If it’s gonna be a problem, it already is. Let’s go to the crash site and see what’s up.”
Compressing my lips together, I shrug. “Up to you.”
He already had an infection from the ricochet bullet wound because it wasn’t taken care of right. The last thing I want is for him to have another problem from wounds that are indirectly my fault. Going over to the furniture near the door, I grab the winter coat Sawyer brought for me.
As I slide into it, I glance back at my brother.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you about what they said they were after. And that I might actually have it.” As I bundle up, my muscles tense.
I still haven’t completely warmed up, so I’m dreading going back outside into the cold, but it can’t be helped.
I try to ignore my discomfort as I explain about Maddie’s jump drive.
“Good,” Scott says. “We’ll crack the password and look inside. That should tell us who the players are.”
War doesn’t bother to zip his wool coat over his broad chest.
My eyes shift to the kitchen sink. I’d like to grab a wet cloth for him to clean his lip, but I ball my fists instead.
It’s not my job to take care of War’s wounds, and he probably wouldn’t appreciate it if I tried.
Besides, I can’t imagine Sasha or C would’ve popped him in the mouth for no reason.
For all I know he said something derogatory about me to earn that injured lip.
My mouth works itself into a frown as Scott ushers me outside to the first of the two Crue SUVs. “What happened to your panic button?” he asks.
“My necklace was under my coat and sweater, and I couldn’t reach it in time. When I woke up from the drugs the second time, it was gone. ”
“The last place it pinged was on the street where the frat houses are.”
“Let me guess,” War says as he passes without looking at us. “On the Kirkwood Street end? In the trash Dumpster behind the pet store?”
My head whips to look at him. Scott holds the back passenger door open for me, but I don’t climb in.
“Why there?” I ask.
“That’s the end Beta House is closer, too. And if I was gonna dump shit and didn’t have time to take it to the river, I would toss it so it was buried under a pile of animal waste that the homeless wouldn’t be sifting through for food.”
“Beta House? You sure it was them?” Scott asks.
War pauses and turns his head to address us. “Fairly sure.”
“You’re trying my patience, man,” C says sharply. “This ain’t dinner theatre where you save the twists for dessert. If you’ve got intel, fucking spill it.”
“Not intel. Deductive reasoning. And you could’ve had any of it up front if you hadn’t wasted time grilling me about bullshit.”
I stiffen, waiting for C to punch him in the mouth.
C refrains, waving his fingers impatiently.
“The sex dungeon cell we started in wasn’t the one we saw before emerging through the wall at the LDK frat house.
Beta and Lambda have both been caught in predatory sex scandals.
The Casanova Club wasn’t exclusively a a Lambda Delta thing.
Combine that with Bergmann’s comments that he was protecting Ashling.
My theory is Madelyn Hearn got something on them.
Maybe that the Casanova Club is still active and using underground cells to hold their victims. Or maybe it’s just a membership roster that includes some Beta guys.
Whatever she had, I think when they were working her over, she claimed she gave the evidence to the girl who couch-surfed at her place on the regular.
Why else would they have been convinced Ash has something they want?
” He shrugs. “The only other way Ashling would’ve had something is if she stole it or recorded it herself.
But she claims she never spent the night with Bergmann.
So, how would she have laid hands on evidence the Beta boys keep well protected? ”
I stare at him, my fists clenched. I’d thought he was interested in who I slept with for personal reasons.
Instead, it seems like he was working on his theories.
Which I should’ve been doing, too. Actually, I was trying to figure it out.
He just seems to know more than I do about the fraternities, which is crazy since I went on a couple of dates with one of the guys.
From now on, I’m gonna do deep background on Granthorpe and anyone I associate with.
Forcing my face into a neutral expression, I blow a strand of hair out of my eyes. “I thought Casanova was the nickname of the serial killer? One guy. You’re saying there’s a club training them?”
Daylight catches his eyes in a way that gives them more green than ever. His lip curls with distaste, or maybe derision. “Not serial killers. Sexual predators. Girl, you need to know what’s up before you move somewhere. You fit the victim bill to a T. ”
“Casanova is dead,” I snap, embarrassment bringing heat to my cheeks because I’ve been pretty clueless. “He was brutally killed by Sullivan guys. If that isn’t warning enough to anyone?—”
“You think these assholes know Casanova was killed by order of the Sullivan Crime family?” War shakes his head.
“Enough,” Scott says, his voice tight. “Precautions were taken.”
“Yeah, and so was she. Snatched right out of her car.”
“Yeah. On your watch,” Scott says grimly.
War turns his head and levels his bleak gaze on my brother. “True enough. But if I hadn’t been on that road, they’d have taken just her. And she’d still be underground. And bleeding from between her legs by now. ”
Everyone goes dead silent.
“I’m curious,” War says, dropping words as though they’re bombs. “Was that frat guy who was squatting in Foxgrove a target because you were making the campus safe for your little sister? If so, you missed a few.”
Oh, my God. He is such a fucking asshole.
War climbs into the second truck, getting away with something Scott never lets anyone get away with. Having the last word.
“Yeah…” I exhale slowly. “So charming I can barely stand it.” Running a hand through my hair, I roll my eyes. “Someone should cast him on a bachelorette reality show. He could go the distance.”
C doesn’t smile, but his expression isn’t pinched as he looks at me. “Glad you’re all right, Baby G. It should never have happened?—”
“C, no,” I say hastily. “It was an organized strike. There was no way to anticipate that. War didn’t, either. If he had, he would’ve had Killian and Jamie with him, and they’d all have been armed to the teeth. This was a freak thing.”
“Yeah, and it raises the question,” Scott says, glancing at the second SUV. “If War wasn’t the one who helped them prepare for that kind of a operation, then who did?”
I freeze, turning my head slowly toward my brother. “If War didn’t help them? What?”
“It’s one possibility.”
“It’s not.”
From Scott’s expression, I can tell he’s not convinced.