Chapter 15
Eli had spent every single day of the last three months hunting down Garret.
He reached out to everyone back in Boston who knew Garret, even those he knew would slam their doors on his face the moment Eli mentioned his name.
He followed every clue, sniffed out every tiny bit of information he could get his hands on.
He’d crisscrossed the northeast, through ghost towns and bustling cities, following leads that went cold within hours and rumors that evaporated the moment he got close enough to verify them.
Still Garret McCall remained a ghost, at least to Eli.
His body was running on fumes, the dark circles under his eyes had become permanent fixtures.
He ate when he remembered, slept wherever his body collapsed, and spent the rest of his waking hours in a state of misery.
His inner wolf had stopped cooperating weeks ago.
It lay inside him, ignoring him save for a few times it sneered at him with contempt.
Every time Eli tried to engage it, the animal would snarl and retreat further into itself.
Its message was clear: You left our mate. Fix it or I’m done with you.
He couldn’t fix it. Not while Garret was breathing oxygen. At least, that’s what he told himself. This was for the best anyway. This was the only way he could guarantee that Olivia and the baby would be safe. Before his thoughts could further spiral, he pushed them away. His wolf growled.
This will be over soon, he said, hoping to mollify his furious wolf. If it all worked out, Garret McCall would be dead by the end of the night.
Eli had been zig-zagging across New Hampshire and Vermont when he’d gotten the call. The number was unknown, but he recognized the voice. “Eli. It’s Mickey. Don’t hang up.”
“Give me a reason not to.”
“I’ve got a lead on Garret. A solid one.”
“From who?”
“One of my guys. Someone who saw him. But he says he won’t talk to anyone but you. In person.”
“Why not?”
“I dunno. Look, believe me or not, I don’t care. I don’t got beef with your old man. Just wanted to help you out.”
Eli chewed on his inner cheek. “Fine. How do I meet this guy?”
“Tomorrow, midnight. Ronan’s old office at the docks.”
Eli should have ignored it. He’d been on a wild goose chase all these months.
But, he’d already chased leads even thinner than this.
At least this time, someone had actually seen Garret with their own eyes.
So, he drove to Boston. The docks hadn’t changed.
Everything was the same, from the rusted shipping containers to the salt-and-diesel smell.
He stalked down the familiar narrow alley leading to the warehouse that Ronan had used as his base of operations.
The office door was ajar, and he went inside.
“Hello, Eli.”
Mickey was inside, sitting behind Ronan’s old desk. Danny McGill leaned against the wall to his left. Neither of them looked surprised to see him.
“Where’s this guy of yours?”
“Patience.” Mickey said. “We need to talk first.”
“I didn’t come here to talk to you.”
“No, you came here because you’re out of options.” The corner of Mickey’s mouth turned up into a malicious smile. “Three months chasing your old man and you’ve got nothing. I’m guessing you haven’t slept or eaten properly in weeks.”
The hair on Eli’s nape stood up. His wolf, despite its silent treatment, stirred as the sound of footsteps came closer behind him.
Four men filed in through the door he’d come through, spreading out to block the exit.
He didn’t recognize any of them, and they certainly weren’t Lycans, but from his experience with Ronan, he knew exactly what they were.
Hired muscle. One of them closed the door behind the group.
“Mickey.” Eli turned back to the desk. “What’s going on?”
Mickey’s only answer was to nod at somewhere behind Eli, toward a door at the back of the office. It opened, and a figure stepped through.
Sean O’Grady.
He was exactly as Eli remembered, though he noticed a burn scar that ran from his elbows to his knuckles that hadn’t been there before. But the mean little eyes were the same, and so was the smile that never quite made it to his eyes.
“Hey, Eli.” O’Grady spread his arms. “Miss me?”
Eli’s blood froze in his veins. “You’re dead.”
“Obviously not.” O’Grady strode over to Ronan’s old desk.
Mickey was already on his feet and gestured to the chair so O’Grady could sit down.
He sat, bounced once, as if testing its weight, then leaned back, the light behind him casting an ominous shadow on his face.
“The reports of my death, as they say, have been exaggerated. Or in this case, completely manufactured by me.” He held up his scarred arm.
“Got this little souvenir when I torched that poor bastard in my Cadillac, but you gotta do what you gotta do, am I right?”
“Why?”
“Because your daddy was coming for me.” O’Grady’s smile thinned.
“A couple days before Ronan got collared, I took care of a problem for him. A Lycan girl who was asking too many questions. I knew the risk, but I took it anyway.” His teeth gnashed together.
“I thought this was it; he was bringing me into the inner circle. But no, he sent his executioner to tie up loose ends. I wasn’t about to sit around and wait for that. So, I made myself disappear.”
As he processed the information, Eli let his mind work, trying to figure out how he was going to survive this. The exit was blocked. Four hired men plus Mickey and Danny made six. O’Grady made seven. This was not going to be easy.
“Unlucky me, Ronan and Garret were nabbed the same night. Coulda saved myself the trouble.” He rolled his scarred wrist. “But then, you know what they say, when life gives you lemons.” O’Grady nodded at Mickey and Danny.
“I reached out to my friends and we came up with a plan to rebuild. The crew, the territory, all of it, with the three of us becoming the new kings of Boston. It was all gonna work out, too, until you and Sloane showed up.”
“Me and Sloane?” Eli asked, puzzled.
“Yeah.” O’Grady leaned forward, folding his hands on the desk.
“Strollin’ back like you owned the Goddamned place and suddenly everyone at Doyle’s is talking about you two.
How you’ve now got connections with New York and the High Council.
And how you were goin’ round, checking in on everyone, like some Goddamned Mother Teresa, and that fucking cunt Sloane by your side, the hometown hero who took down Ronan Forte.
How both of you would make a great Alpha and Beta.
” He shook his head. “I couldn’t have that. ”
It clicked into place. “So, you shot Olivia.”
“Figured if your girl took a few bullets, you’d panic and run back to New York. And you did run, didn’t you? Just not the direction I expected.” O’Grady huffed. “I’ll admit, the diner thing didn’t go as planned. I didn’t know pregnant True Mates were bulletproof. That was a fun surprise.”
His wolf lunged forward, fully present for the first time in weeks, baring its teeth. He tamped it down. Not yet, he said. But soon.
“Anyway, it all worked out,” O’Grady continued. “You left Boston. The clan forgot about you. And now you’ve walked right into my office because Mickey dangled the one thing you were so desperate for.” He clapped Mickey on the shoulder. “Good job.”
“Told you he’d fall for it,” Mickey snorted. Danny nodded in agreement. “He’d been sniffing around here again, askin’ everyone about his old man.”
“It’ll make up for your screwing up in Kentucky,” O’Grady said, and Mickey winced visibly.
“Still don’t know how that got botched when Eli here was practically a sittin’ duck.
Anyway,” O’Grady stood. “Nothing personal, Eli. You’re just in the way.
But soon—” The lights going out cut him off. “What the fu—”
Someone screamed in pain. On instinct, Eli dropped to the floor. Just in time, it seemed, as a body flew over him and crashed into the desk. He heard the crack of bone, a grunt, and the heavy thud of a man hitting the ground.
In the dark, his Lycan vision adjusted and he saw a figure moving through the room with brutal efficiency, swift and striking from angles that his targets couldn’t anticipate.
Two of the hired men went down in seconds.
A third managed to fire his weapon, the muzzle flash lighting up the room for a split second, illuminating the face of the man who was doing the damage.
Garret McCall.
He moved through the office with the precision of a machine.
There was no grace in his moves, no fancy techniques.
He caught the shooter’s arm and snapped it down the middle without so much as a flinch.
The fourth hired man tried to run and Garret grabbed him by the collar and threw him into the wall.
O’Grady scrambled for the back door just as the lights turned back on.
Mickey and Danny were already gone, having bolted the moment the lights cut out.
Before O’Grady could reach the door, it burst open from the other side.
Jacob Martin came through first, hands already lit with fire.
Trailing behind him were Sloane, Killian, and Cliff Forrest, who had to duck to get through the doorframe.
O’Grady froze, caught between Jacob’s fire and the carnage behind him.
“Sean O’Grady,” Killian said. “On the ground. Now.”
O’Grady’s gaze zeroed in on the fire, at Cliff, at the four unconscious men scattered across the floor, and slowly put his hands up. “I want to speak to the High Council. This is a Lycan matter. And I’ll need a lawyer.”
“Unfortunately, you’re right,” Killian said. “But for now, you’ll be seeing the inside of a cell.”