Chapter 48
Chapter Forty-Eight
KEEGAN
T he ferocious sky-high flames should bring some level of comfort. The only thing keeping back the wall of rage simmering from erupting is the small tracker in my hand.
I don’t believe for a second Tally cut it out herself. She never knew it was in her, for starters. Our Omega would have sassed the absolute fuck out of us if she did.
On top of that is the very reason we had this type of tracker installed—it’s almost undetectable. “Almost” because if it was totally undetectable, I wouldn’t have Tally’s tracker in my possession.
The device itself is top of the line and expensive as hell. There’s no limit to what we’ll spend when it comes to Tally, though. The flip side is, who the fuck carries around a portable scanner? The worrying answer is, not very many people.
A car pulls up behind us, and even without the sirens or turning around, I know it’s one of a few people. Since Black isn’t answering my calls at the moment it narrows it down further. Only Detective Patrick Doyle is brave enough to stand behind me.
“You’ll need to come down to the station for questioning.” There’s a touch of victory on his breath.
I put my wife’s tracker in a pocket hidden inside my tactical jacket, and as soon as I clip it away safely, the tension coiling in every fucking bone in my body increases tenfold.
Cracking my neck, as opposed to ripping his throat out, I turn to face him.
He takes a step back, so I take one closer. I’m done pretending Doyle is nothing but a dog for us to bark at. And he’s about to get a reminder of who his master is.
“Now why would I be answering any of your questions, when Black’s not taking my calls?” I ask slowly, not bothering to shield how close to being feral I am.
The false bravado I’ve always seen in his eyes flares bright like a neon sign, telling the world what a fucking sap he is.
“You can’t go around setting fire to houses in plain fucking sight.” His eyes jump over my shoulder as he grunts back at me.
I throw my hands up, laughing. “I fucking can, you dippy cunt. You can see I can, too, with your own fucking eyeballs.”
And what’s more concerning in his line of questioning is, it’s clear more than ever this pissant is part of the problem and not part of the solution.
He’s purposely not mentioning someone was killed inside, like me burning the house down is more of an injustice.
Besides, Ronin burned the house down on principal of our wife being hurt here, and because he’s fucking irate.
I know in my heart the pool of blood under one of the kitchen chairs didn’t come from my Omega.
I’d feel her death like a physical blow.
I swear I can also scent her peachy perfume on the tracker.
The blood that was spilled in that kitchen had my heart stilling at first, but when I realized it didn’t carry her scent, I got another sign she’s still alive.
“Keegan,” Rafferty hisses from my side.
My Omega’s warning isn’t done for Doyle’s sake. It’s a sign Rafferty’s had enough of playing games too. I lock my knees, because an unhinged Rafferty, smelling still of heat and sex, is as dangerous for me as he is for everyone. Different reasons, but…
He moves like silk, effortlessly gliding closer.
And because everyone always underestimates Omegas, Rafferty manages to deliver a brutal reminder to Doyle he’s nothing but a dog we control.
Rafferty shakes his fist out as we watch Doyle struggling to his feet with a broken, bloody nose that’s gushing like a fountain.
Unsurprisingly, Patrick can’t manage dealing with too many things at once. Which speaks volumes for how undisciplined and weak a man he is. He has no choice but to park his arse on the road, at our fucking feet, until his eyes stop cartwheeling in his fat fucking head.
Striding close enough that Doyle has no choice but to cower or be bowled over, I stop in front of Raff to check his knuckles. The skin’s not broken, but he’ll have a bruise soon enough.
“Ty’s not going to be happy with your form, but I’ll let him know how good your power was,” I offer quietly, brushing his hair out of his face.
He relaxes under my touch, just enough for me to get one of his smiles before he speaks. “Let’s go, Alpha.”
Keeping his hand in mine, I ensure he’s safely on the other side, further away from Doyle as we head back to the car where Ronin and Ty are waiting.
I look down at Doyle and make sure he can’t miss my threat. “If Black doesn’t answer my next call, I’ll burn your house down next. Hopefully while you’re inside.”
All the other emergency responders don’t acknowledge us in the least. But I’d seen Ty shaking hands and laughing with the fire chief earlier.
We barely shut the doors, and Ronin’s driving like we’re testing out the newest SUV on a track.
“What’s the rush?” Rafferty says, digging through the pile of snacks, looking for chocolate.
“Johnny called. Apparently, someone found Tally’s backpack and handed it in to O’Malley’s,” Tynan says without looking up from his phone. His lack of excitement at the fact is more to do with how close he is to losing it too. Four of us going off won’t be good.
We’ve got all our contacts on the streets looking for our wife, and there’s been a constant stream of possible sightings we need to work through.
At the same time, though, it’s like everyone’s gone mad.
If we needed any more goddamn signs that Tally being taken was part of something bigger, it was that.
Dialing through to the guards we’ve trusted with Paddy and Jeanie’s welfare, I listen to a few of them giving me the same rundown. It helps allay some of the stress, but not all of it.
Ronin drives up on the middle island of the road outside O’Malley’s. It’s not conventional and is sure to piss off a lot of people, but we’re not here to make friends.
Climbing out of the BMW, we stand shoulder to shoulder in the middle of the road, watching a lot of people we’ve known since we were small lads drinking in a Kelly establishment.
“Is it me, or do they look like they’re celebrating?” I ask, reaching under my jacket for my guns.
Without making a sound, the rest of my pack are doing the same. Though Tynan’s never been a fan of guns, so he slides on a pair of knuckles. New, by the looks, and not made of brass like they usually are.
He notices me looking down at them, and I get an odd shrug and a small dip of his head before he sighs. A slight blush hits his face as he holds up the knuckle dusters. The engraving of our wife’s name is a mighty fine touch.
“Might go test them out, then.” He winks and starts strolling over towards the door.
I got it wrong; he’s not ashamed of his obsession with her. He’s just full of fucking vengeance.
And we were right. The crowd at O’Malley’s was having an impromptu celebration.
Ronin and Tynan enter a couple of steps before Rafferty and I. A couple of Kelly supporters, who’ve always been nothing more than paid thugs, finish off their pints, then stand to face us, baseball bats and chains in their hands.
“And this is why you always bring a gun to a fight,” I lean down and say at Tynan. Loud enough for the room to hear, but it’s also a private conversation, so I'm not worried if my discussion with my packmate makes them uncomfortable.
Ronin doesn’t give anyone the chance to explain themselves. He just steps in front of Rafferty and takes out the biggest targets in the room. They drop like the sack of shits they are, and those people that stand to rush to their assistance also get themselves killed.
“This shite stops now. You’re either with the O’Connors, or you’re going to see the Lord. Them’s your choices.” Ronin tips his head, looking more relaxed than he is. Lulling them until he belts out a bark, demanding the traitors show themselves, ripping their submission from them.
As they fall to their knees, a victim of his insatiable appetite for retribution, the traitors are delivered back to God for judgment.
Women don’t get touched, even though there’s a few of them with foreheads to the ground. Rafferty and Tynan will remember each one of them. Once the dust has settled, we’ll go “talk” about where their loyalties lie.
Johnny ducked down behind the bar as soon as we entered, and it’s exactly where Tynan finds him.
“Where’s my wife’s bag?”
Though it’s not a simple question, it’s more. Where’s , punch. My , punch. Wife’s , punch. Bag , punch.
And poor Johnny won’t be doing any public speaking anytime soon, but he still has the ability to point his finger to where the right prick has my wife’s bag and all her possessions spread out like they’ve been having show-and-tell.
Tynan doesn’t miss it, and the injustice of it has our Beta doing his own version of show-and-tell, showcasing why he was a champion boxer for a long, long time.
Johnny might not be able to move that fucking finger of his for a while. But he does have the strength to roll over and start crawling away, which is interesting.
Ronin’s phone goes off with Paddy’s distinctive ringtone, which seems like a fitting end to our visit. Rafferty rushes over to collect Tal’s belongings before returning to Ronin’s side.
The two of them leave, checking our coast is clear before Tynan and I join them waiting at the door.
Swinging in Tynan’s bloody fist is an expensive bottle of bourbon. The cheeky git winks at me again, opening the lid, then pushing in a hastily rolled-up wad of paper napkins.
He pulls out a lighter from his pocket, and with the same fluid-like movement his brother possesses, he has it lit and sailing over the top of the bar straight into the glass shelving holding all the spirits.
The explosion of glass proceeds the enormous, near-deafening whoosh as the alcohol ignites.
We go to step out.
“Would I go to hell if I barred the door?” I ask Tynan seriously.
He shrugs, but grabs a knife from one of the tables closest to the door, and as we walk out of O’Malley’s, he slides it like a bar over the handles.
“It won’t stop ‘em escaping, but it’s a nice reminder they’re fucked.”
I throw my head back and laugh.
The surprise and constantly wondering what version of Tynan you’re dealing with on any given day brings me peace and happiness. His chameleon-like nature is one of the many reasons I’m thankful this vindictive prick is a part of our pack.