Chapter Eighteen
Walking into the office on Monday, knowing it was my last day, was surreal.
I spent most of the morning filing paperwork and handing off what was left of my cases. After lunch, Cora had arranged a little sendoff party in the break room. There was cake and sparkling wine. Jacob made a toast in my honor, and it was all really nice.
I spent the rest of the day clearing out my office. Everything I intended to take with me fit in a bankers box. It felt cliché, but I went with it. As I looked around the blank space, I decided I wanted to do something exciting that night. Something fun to celebrate the end of a significant chapter and the beginning of another.
It was four o’clock when I was ready to leave. I knew Jed would be at the garage for another hour, and I wanted to stop at home to drop my box and grab a cute outfit for the night. I didn’t want to bug him at work or wait for another one of the Stallions to come escort me the five minutes it would take me to run home. It had been two weeks since the drama with Fred Hoffman, and nothing had happened. Not a single thing.
With that in mind, I planned on stopping at home before heading for the compound. If Jed got mad at me for doing it alone, I’d just have to kiss him until he got over it. Besides, the whole escort thing couldn’t last forever.
In spite of my resolve, I was cautious as I walked through the parking lot to my car. I made it a point to look around to ensure there were no cronies lurking about. I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, and I was on my way without incident.
When I arrived at my apartment building, I strolled inside thinking how strange it was a place so familiar could feel so foreign after only two weeks. It was home. All my things were there. While I hadn’t gone all out to decorate the place I always hoped would be temporary, it was still mine.
But there was something about Jed’s house—something my apartment lacked.
His surprisingly good taste gave his place character, but it wasn’t flawless. The décor could have used a woman’s touch. Yet, the homey nature of the house wasn’t derived from the stuff inside of it. It wasn’t the extra rooms or the huge yard. It wasn’t the upgraded fixtures or appliances he had, either.
It was like the walls were coated in memories. They were hidden in every nook and cranny. The life lived there created a feeling as inescapable as it was welcoming.
Inserting my key into the lock of my unit’s door, I didn’t get that same inviting sensation. I was home, but it wasn’t homey.
I stepped inside, closing the door behind me, and in the very next second, home became something else entirely.
I wasn’t sure if I heard the bang first or the sound of broken glass. Neither did I have time to think about it before there was another bang. And another. And another.
I dropped to the ground, the contents of my bankers box spilling everywhere as the shots kept coming. I didn’t know how many rounds were in a gun, but as the bullets flew through my apartment, I knew whoever held that gun was aiming at my unit exclusively, blindly shooting at me.
It took a second, and the gun was still going off, but I reached into my purse for my phone. When I had it in my hand, I saw blood and panicked—then I realized I only cut myself against the edge of the cardboard. I wasn’t hit.
I’m not hit.
I blew out a breath and instinctively called Jed.
He answered on the second ring.
“Hey.”
“I messed up. Oh, my god, I messed up,” I whispered.
My voice was trembling, and I realized I was shaking from the inside out.
“Lex? Where are you?” he demanded to know.
“I came home. I—someone—someone’s shooting into my apartment. Jed, I’m all alone. What if he comes inside? I don’t have a gun. I don’t have anything!”
“ Shit ,” he spat. “Where are you? In your apartment, where are you?”
“On the floor. By the couch.”
“Are you okay? Can you make it to the bathroom?”
“I—I think so.”
“Hang up. Stay low. Get there. Call the cops. I’m on my way.”
He hung up before I could say a word, and I paused to listen for more gunshots. Rather than bullets flying, I heard the screeching of tires in the parking lot. I didn’t for a second think that left me in the clear, but the silence that followed was my cue to move . I got on my hands and knees and quickly crawled my way to the bathroom, locking myself inside before I called nine-one-one.
I relayed the state of my emergency to the dispatcher curled up in the bathtub. Then, as I waited for help to arrive, the gravity of what was happening hit me anew. I needed to stay calm, but I couldn’t. My heavy breathing made it difficult to hear anything—but someone had just tried to kill me!
My grip around the phone tightened, and I curled up even smaller as I trembled and cried silent tears. A minute felt like an hour, and I had no idea how much time had passed before I heard my front door open and slam against the wall. I bit my lip hard, willing myself to remain quiet as I sealed my eyes closed and prayed that whoever that was didn’t have a gun.
I whimpered when the knob on the bathroom door jiggled.
I took my first deep breath when I heard—“Lex, it’s me. Open up.”
I dropped my phone in my scramble out of the tub, and I was across the room in no time. I unlocked the door and swung it open, and Jed had me crushed against his chest before I could even blink.
Sandalwood.
Motor oil.
I breathed him in and held onto him with all my strength.
“Fuck, Alexia,” he sighed.
His hold was so unyielding, it almost hurt, but I didn’t care.
“She’s bleeding.”
It was Kade’s voice I heard, and I realized Jed hadn’t come alone.
I wasn’t ready for him to let me go, but Jed pulled away abruptly at Kade’s comment.
“Are you hurt? Where?” he asked, his eyes and his hands inspecting my body in unison.
“It’s a cut. It’s just a cut,” I stammered, holding up my left hand.
It was deeper than I thought, and there was blood smeared down my wrist. I hardly even felt it, the adrenaline in my system redirecting my focus away from the pain.
“We’re clear. The cops just showed.”
Still in the bathroom, Jed blocking my view, I couldn’t see him, but I recognized Benson’s voice.
“Mav, Shep and I will be outside,” he said.
“Wait,” called Jed, sticking his head into the hallway. “Ask Shep if he’s got a bandage.”
Kade, sounding amused, replied, “Bet all the cash in my wallet he does. We’ll send him in.”
I didn’t understand what was funny, and I didn’t bother to try. There was blood on my shirt, and I was sure I got some on Jed, too—but he wasn’t wearing his kutte. He was in a black tank top, his coveralls still on, the sleeves off and tied around his hips. As I took in his details, I realized his hands were still dirty.
He dropped everything to get to me.
I wasn’t surprised. That was Jed.
But it made me cry anyway.
“Hey, come ‘ere,” he muttered, hooking an arm around my shoulders and pulling me against him once more. He guided me out of the bathroom toward my kitchen. There was a bullet hole in one of my dining room chairs.
A bullet hole.
“Sit, darlin’.”
“Not that one,” I murmured, choosing the one next to it.
Hank came in with a box of band-aids, and he saw to my cut while Jed scrubbed his hands at my kitchen sink. When the cops knocked and invited themselves inside, Roy was right behind them. I was asked a couple of questions, but it didn’t take long before I realized the officers in uniform weren’t the ones in charge. They were there to secure a crime scene and canvas the surrounding area for witnesses. They were also there to make sure I didn’t leave before the detectives showed up.
When Detective Lloyd Kendrick and his partner Tim Reagan arrived, Roy was the first to greet them. He shook Lloyd’s hand, and the men exchanged a look that implied each of them somehow respected the authority of the other. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, but if Roy trusted Lloyd, then I would, too.
It didn’t take longer than fifteen minutes to question me. I didn’t have many answers. I hadn’t seen anything or anyone. There were ten bullet holes scattered across the sliding glass door of my small balcony, and another five had missed their mark and hit the brick facing of the building. There was only one person I could think of who had motive to try adamantly to hurt me. I offered Fred Hoffman’s name, and Roy explained how Hoffman had recently lost his job to me.
We both left out the part where I’d been kidnapped.
My gut told me, club business wasn’t often inclusive of the police.
When Roy skipped those details, I knew I was smart not to mention it.
I was one of them now. I felt certain justice, in this instance, would be first come first serve.
“We’ll comb through CCTV footage and go over any statements from the neighbors that might be helpful. We’ll find out who did this, Ms. Torres, and we’ll bring him in,” Lloyd assured me.
“You need help identifying that son-of-a-bitch, you know my number,” said Roy.
He and Lloyd exchanged another look, and even I heard the message loud and clear. The Wild Stallions weren’t going to stay on the sidelines, and Lloyd knew it.
I didn’t really care one way or another who found Hoffman—I just wanted it to be over.
Jed’s hand was wrapped around mine, and he was watching their exchange alongside me. I squeezed his fingers, silently begging for his attention.
When I had his eyes, I murmured, “Can we go? I really don’t want to be here anymore.”
“Yeah, darlin’. You’re with me. You wanna change?”
I wanted to do a lot more than change. I wanted a shower and a drink.
Aware that finding my way to either of those things meant mounting Jed’s Harley, I knew I needed to get out of my work outfit first. So, I stood with a sigh and went to my room. As I swapped my skirt for jeans and my blood-smeared top for an old graphic tee, it dawned on me that the last time I changed in my room was when I was trying to get out of there after something awful had happened.
No wonder home didn’t feel homey .
Wrangler
He watched her until she closed herself into her bedroom, then cut his eyes toward the detectives. They were no longer standing nearby, the two of them taking a closer look at the crime scene that was his woman’s apartment.
A fuckin’ crime scene .
Wrangler scowled as the memory of Alexia’s phone call replayed itself in his mind.
His Lex was a pit bull when it came to the law—fearless and confident in her wisdom. But when bullets were flying, she was terrified. He’d heard it in her insistent whisper, and it made him feel things he never had before.
Not when his children were born.
Not when Lowe got sick with her first ear infection, or when Ax fell and scraped his knees raw when he was learning to skate.
Not when either of his kids called him scared or worried over one thing or another.
Never had he felt as powerless as he did when Lex told him someone was shooting into her apartment, and he wasn’t there.
It pissed him off something fierce.
He looked to Bull, and in a voice low and controlled, knowing Lex was in the next room, he asked, “What the fuck? ”
Bull met his eyes, but he didn’t get a chance to speak before Wrangler continued.
“Been sayin’ we don’t want war—but if the cartel is behind this, they’ll get their fuckin’ fight.”
Bull didn’t flinch. Neither did he make a quick reply. Wrangler saw it as his president considered his next words carefully.
“Don’t know that Alvarez has motive to be so bold. Hoffman, on the other hand, is a man with nothin’ to lose.”
“And you think Hoffman has the balls to do this? ” Wrangler spat, losing a bit of his patience as he pointed at the holes splintering the glass of the sliding door across the room. “He’s a greedy fucker, I’ll give you that. But emptyin’ an entire clip? Knowin’ good and damn well she’s got us at her back? That’s not nothin’ to lose , Bull—that’s a fuckin’ death wish.
“I won’t claim to know what Hoffman and Borerro have been up to, but I know you haven’t forgotten it was Borrero who snatched her up not once but twice. The second time at Hoffman’s insistence.”
Bull nodded as he took a step toward Wrangler. Then, his tone still level and measured, he spoke, “Soon as we’ve got answers, we’ll know what to do next. There’s no fight to start until we know who’s responsible. I know you’re worked up, and for good reason. But—”
“ Worked up? ” Wrangler practically growled. He closed what distance was left between them and barely restrained himself from yelling as he said, “Fifteen fuckin’ rounds at my woman, Bull. Fifteen! ”
Bull had Wrangler by an inch or two, but Wrangler had Bull by a good twenty pounds. As they stood nose to nose—Wrangler barely containing his fury, and Bull fighting to keep his cool—rank became an afterthought.
“Club business does not follow us home. Not like this. Not ever. I don’t even know who to fuckin’ thank that the shooter didn’t feel the need to get out of his car and hunt her down on foot.”
“I hear you, brother,” Bull began, his tone irritatingly calm. “Get in my face if you need to. Hell, might even let you throw a punch. Don’t know what it’s like for danger to hurdle its way toward my Winnie. Doesn’t mean I haven’t imagined it a million times.
“But I do know one thing. Your woman’s gonna walk out that door any second,” he said, pointing down the hall. “When she does, you need to have your shit together. I don’t gotta tell you, she needs you. Tonight, she’s your only worry.
“I shouldn’t have to remind you, but I will—that woman is family now. I take this attack personally, and I’m not gonna roll over and play dead. But neither will I start a war with a blindfold over my eyes. Soon as we’ve got answers, we’ll know what to do next. Until we know who pulled that trigger, we’re blind. Now, calm the fuck down, take your woman home, and wait for my call. Understood?”
“Jed?”
Her soft voice was like a bucket of cold water dumped over his head.
Wrangler turned immediately and saw Alexia standing at the mouth of the hallway, fidgeting with her phone. She’d changed into jeans and a tee-shirt, but it was the look on her face that moved his feet. He hadn’t been there when the bullets were flying, but he was there now, and she needed him.
He ate the distance between them and took hold of her uninjured hand.
“You good to go, darlin’?”
She nodded, and he squeezed her fingers before starting for the door.
As they went, Wrangler locked eyes with Bull and muttered, “I’ll be waitin’ on that call.”
Bull merely jerked his chin in reply.