Chapter 48 #2
“Not one fucking word.” I pointed at him.
“I didn’t say anything,” he replied, holding his hands up.
“You’re thinking loud.”
I added Montclair to the call and barely had time to set the phone down before his voice exploded through the speaker.
“WHERE THE FUCK IS ROMEO?”
Every man in church flinched except me, mostly because I was too pissed off to give the bastard the satisfaction.
“Good morning to you too, Montclair.”
“Don’t fuck with me, O’Rourke.”
Reaper sighed through the speaker. “Morning, Callum.”
Silence followed.
Then Montclair’s voice dropped into something considerably more dangerous. “Why the fuck are you on this call?”
“Long story,” Reaper answered.
“Getting longer by the fucking minute,” Montana added.
Montclair made a sound that suggested he had just discovered his morning somehow involved three presidents he had no desire to speak to. I understood the feeling.
“Montclair,” I cut in before this turned into whatever bullshit history existed between all of them. “Why are you looking for Romeo?”
“Because Fiona is fucking missing.”
The anger disappeared from my chest so fast it left cold behind.
Across the table, Nav straightened. “What do you mean, missing?”
“I mean her bed is empty, Romeo is gone, and I had one extremely pissed-off grandmother walk into my clubhouse demanding I produce her granddaughter before she starts removing body parts.”
Carly inhaled sharply.
Fury said something too low for me to catch.
I gripped the edge of the table. “Start at the beginning.”
Callum Montclair was furious, but the Marine beneath the biker took control of his voice as he gave me the facts. “Some asshole attacked Fiona behind the shop after closing. Romeo pulled in while it was happening.”
My gaze snapped to Nav.
He looked away.
That was who Romeo had called him to find.
Motherfucker.
“How bad was she hurt?” Carly asked.
“Physically, not as bad as it could have been. The bastard didn’t get far enough to finish what he intended because Romeo showed up.
” Callum paused, and when he continued, his voice carried enough violence to explain why he had once been considered scarier than men with reputations built on killing, “Romeo took her back to Martha’s and stayed until Fiona settled. Then he went hunting.”
“Marcus Webb,” Nav said quietly.
My head turned toward him.
Callum heard it too. “You know the fucker?”
“Romeo called me to track him down.”
I was going to murder my own tech officer later.
Possibly with his fucking laptop.
Callum continued, “Webb lived one town over. Romeo found him. I know that because somewhere just before midnight he called Priest and asked for help cleaning up what was left.”
Cash leaned back and blew out a breath.
Gunner muttered something that sounded suspiciously approving.
I didn’t have enough attention to spare for either one of them.
“Priest helped him?” Reaper asked.
“Yeah. Then Priest showed up this morning expecting to find Romeo and Fiona at the clubhouse. Priest said he wouldn’t keep something involving Fi a secret, and Romeo asked him to give her one night before everybody descended on her.
Priest agreed and told him to bring Fiona to the clubhouse first thing this morning. ”
“And Romeo agreed?” Montana asked.
“No,” Montclair growled. “He said thank you.”
Despite everything, I closed my eyes.
Of fucking course he did.
Romeo never lied. He was disturbingly skilled at not actually answering questions he was asked.
Montclair apparently understood exactly what that meant now too, because his next words came through clenched teeth. “Priest thought the Cajun asshole was agreeing. He wasn’t. Martha woke up this morning, found them both gone, and a fucking note saying Fiona was safe and with Romeo.”
“He fucking took her,” I muttered.
“No shit.”
Carly’s voice broke through before Montclair and I started fighting over who had the greater cause to kill one of my men. “Callum, there’s something you need to know.”
“What?”
I looked at the phone.
There was no good way to make the next part better.
“Fiona is Kaitlyn Grace Ward,” Carly told him.
Nothing came through the speaker.
No breathing.
No movement.
Nothing.
Then Callum Montclair lost his fucking mind.
“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN, FIONA IS A WARD?”
Everything went to hell at once. Reaper started swearing.
Montana tried talking over Montclair, which was about as useful as yelling into a tornado, and Fury was telling Carly to back away from the phone before someone ruptured her goddamn eardrum.
Cash dropped his head into his hands, laughing without sound because apparently watching four presidents collectively lose their fucking shit was the highlight of his week.
I slammed my palm against the table. “Everybody, shut the fuck up!”
Shockingly, it worked.
Mostly.
Montana was still muttering something about needing a drink.
I ignored him and looked at Nav. “Ping their phones.”
His laptop was open before I finished the sentence.
“Don’t fucking bother,” Montclair snapped.
Nav’s hands stopped.
“Why?”
“Their phones are sitting on Martha’s kitchen table beside the goddamn note.”
“Both of them?”
“Both.”
“Son of a bitch.”
Romeo hadn’t done that by accident.
He knew Nav could track him. He knew exactly what we would do once someone realized Fiona was gone. Leaving both phones behind wasn’t panic. It was planning.
And I knew one more thing about Romeo that suddenly mattered a hell of a lot.
He was fucking Cajun swamp rat.
He might live in Nebraska, wear my patch, run his business in Diamond Creek, and complain about our winters every year like cold weather had personally insulted his ancestors, but there was one place that bastard would always consider home.
New Orleans.
Reaper must have reached the same conclusion about the problem in front of us, because when he spoke again, the humor was gone. “Before anybody starts deciding which pieces of Romeo they want, we find Fiona.”
“For once, asshole and I agree,” Montana said.
“Keep talking, Fucknuts.”
“There it is,” I muttered. “Ten whole seconds. Might be a fucking record.”
Montclair wasn’t amused. “I don’t give a fuck what any of you do after we find her. Romeo promised that old woman he would take care of Fiona, then walked her out of the house while she slept.”
“He didn’t force Fiona to go,” Carly pointed out quietly. “The note says she went with him.”
“That is the only reason I’m planning to kill him immediately instead of slowly,” Montclair said.
Cash finally lost the fight and laughed out loud.
Montclair heard him. “Who the fuck is laughing?”
“Nobody,” Cash answered immediately.
“Smart man,” Reaper said.
I rubbed both hands over my face. Somehow, less than an hour ago, my largest problem had been an old lady who couldn’t get enough of my dick, and cold coffee.
Now Romeo had disappeared with Fiona, the Sons of Hell wanted his head, Carly had unearthed another Society secret, Nav had neglected to keep me fucking informed, again, and Reaper and Montana were on my phone threatening to restart their usual bullshit at any second.
I was going to kill Romeo.
After I found him.
After I made sure Fiona was safe.
Then I was going to kill him, bring him back to life, and let Montclair have a turn.
“I’ll handle my man,” I told Montclair.
“The fuck you will. Your man took one of mine.”
“Technically, she’s one of ours,” I replied.
That shut down the argument before it started. Fiona might not be a Ward, but she was Angel’s daughter and Banshee’s niece. She was a goddamn Silver Shadow.
“Give me an hour,” I said.
“You’ve got thirty fucking minutes.”
“Montclair.”
“Twenty-five.”
“Fuck you.”
“Twenty.”
The call disconnected from his end and Reaper laughed.
Montana joined him.
I ended the entire conference call before either asshole could say another word, then stared at the phone in front of me.
Cash knew what I was thinking before I said anything. “Louisiana.”
“Has to be.”
Nav was already starting to type. “Want me to start digging into traffic cameras south?”
“No.”
He looked up. I scrolled through my contacts until I found the name I wanted. “There’s a faster fucking way.”
Gator answered on the second ring. “Yeah?”
I leaned back in my chair.
“Let me talk to that motherfucking swamp rat.”