Chapter Twenty
“We’ve got shit to plan,” Pete rejoined. “And Beck has someplace he needs to be.”
“We’ll brief Poppy and Chloe in the dining room,” Cat offered and stood. As soon as she was on her feet, Jack tagged her hand and waited for Chloe and Poppy to follow.
“I’m out of here. I’ll check in later,” Beck announced.
Poppy glanced at Beckett, looking like she wanted to say something, but quickly reconsidered and looked at her feet. Chloe just looked eager to flee.
So much for unfucking my fuckup.
“Chloe will be there in a second,” I told Cat.
I saw Chloe clench her jaw, then she turned to look at me and tracked my movements as I made my way across the living room.
Yep, still totally jacking this up.
“Can we do whatever this is later?”
And now I was going to fuck this more.
“No. We need to do this now.”
“As decreed by Mr. Bossypants,” she mumbled and followed me into the kitchen.
“You know, if you want me to believe you’re pissed at me, you really need to come up with better insults, baby. Mr. Bossypants?”
“Is there a reason you ordered me to the kitchen, or do you just find it amusing to push my buttons.”
I stepped closer, ignored the way her body got tight, and hooked her around the back of the neck. Her hand came out and landed on my chest, and she tipped her head back.
“Are you okay?”
Chloe’s head twitched, her lips turned down, and at last her brows pinched together.
“Am I okay?”
“I knew you were planning on quitting.”
“Ryan—”
“Baby, not here to argue about that. You came here thinking you were going to quit and thinking Poppy was too. Now I’m asking if you’re okay with how that went down?”
“I can’t leave Poppy.”
I didn’t miss the tremble in her voice, which meant I had my answer.
“I can talk to Poppy. Pete will too. I think it’s clear Beck would also have an opinion. We can talk her around.”
Chloe stared up at me with what looked like shocked amusement, when there was nothing amusing about the situation.
“You obviously don’t know Poppy. You, Pete, Fallon, Gavin, Mason, Aiden, that guy Beck, and the Pope could try to talk Poppy into quitting, but I guarantee you’d fail.
Why do you think I stopped when I did? The more you push Poppy, the deeper she’ll dig her feet in.
She’s me times seven hundred and eighty-five.
If it wasn’t Cynthia who was missing, I would hope that when Cat starts explaining things to her, she’d get freaked and back out.
But since it’s someone she knows and is friends with, Poppy won’t back down. ”
Crazy, stubborn, loyal women.
“And I can’t talk you out of—”
“No.”
It was worth a shot.
“I’m not being a hard-ass to push your buttons,” I told her and lowered my forehead to hers. “I’m being a dick because I don’t know what to do. I don’t like this. I’m backed into a corner, and that’s not a place I like to be. I got limited moves, and none of them are good.”
Chloe lifted her hand, wrapped her fingers around my forearm, and squeezed.
“Ryan—”
“Just that for now, baby.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
I lifted my forehead off hers, dipped back down to brush my lips over hers, before I straightened and tagged her hand.
I guided her to the dining room, then made my way back to the living room, where Gavin was waiting.
“It’s shocking you’ve been laid in the last decade.”
What the fuck?
“Come again?”
“Have you ever heard the saying ‘You attract more flies with honey than vinegar’?”
“Don’t start—”
“Trust me, vinegar’s not working. Try honey.”
I clenched my jaw, not understanding why I had to remind my friend I wasn’t trying to attract flies.
“I’m trying to keep her safe.”
“And you will. The only part you had right was, you’ll be there to protect her if shit goes south. But for you to do that, she’s gotta lose the stubborn. And she won’t if you keep ordering her around and pissing her off. Try honey.”
Fuck, he was right.
For this to work the way it needed to, Chloe had to trust me, and acting like an asshole wasn’t going to do me any favors.
The problem was, I was blinded by a poisonous cocktail of worry and fear. Crazy with it. I knew what could go wrong. I knew what was at stake. And I knew I’d lose my ever-loving mind if something happened to Chloe.
“For your information,” I ground out, fighting the urge to call my closest friend one of Chloe’s ridiculous names. And the only reason I was able to push the need aside was because I’d never live down calling Gavin the Big Kahuna of Nosyland. But, Christ, he was nosy. “I just used honey.”
And serious as fuck, were we really having this conversation?
“You know none of us have missed it,” Gavin stepped closer to say. “I get why you never went there. She works for us. It was a smart play, keeping your distance.”
That wasn’t why I’d kept my distance. I knew if I gave in, I’d never be able to let her go.
Heartbreak was one thing, losing a woman who I knew was made for me was something I wouldn’t survive. And it had taken me less than week of her working at the Plank for me to understand in a very real way I wanted her to be mine.
I didn’t tell that to Gavin; I let him finish.
“So it’s safe to say, if we didn’t miss what was going on with you, we sure as shit didn’t miss her struggling to keep her distance from you. Though you missed it.”
He was wrong. I hadn’t missed it. I was just too chickenshit to go for it. I didn’t tell him that either.
“She’s in love with you and has been for a long time.”
I reared back and shook my head. “No, she’s—”
“She is. And if you’d stop being an ass for five minutes, you’d see it.”
“This isn’t helping,” I told him. “I’m already fucking this up because I can’t see straight.
The thought of her putting herself in danger is driving me crazy.
On the way here, Chloe accused me of having multiple personalities.
I’m seeing now she’s right. The problem is I don’t know which one to latch on to.
Because one minute logic takes over and I know we’d have her covered.
Then the next, I’m crazy again thinking of all the ways this shit can turn bad.
Which then leads me down a dark path knowing I’d be serving multiple life sentences when I murder half a dozen people if something happens to her. ”
With eagle-eyed observation skills, Gavin studied me.
The longer this went on, the more stifling the sensation became.
The problem with being friends with someone who you’d spilled blood with, who’d fought beside you, who’d suffered through unimageable horrors at your side, was that the depth of camaraderie was all consuming—a bond so intricately woven into the psyche there was no room for bullshit.
“Then you know, there’s no one better to have her back than the man who’d murder half a dozen people to ensure her safety.
Which is why it’s a good thing Mercer called Pete before you got here and Pete transferred the application fee while he was still on the phone.
The background check should take forty-eight hours.
Once the final membership fee is transferred, your ass will be sitting at the bar. ”
“You’re shitting me,” I growled.
“Nope.”
“You didn’t think maybe that was important—”
“Not more important than me telling you to get your head out of your ass before you drive a wedge between you and the woman you love that’ll have you on your knees begging for forgiveness.
And, yeah, Ryan, none of us missed that shit either.
Part of me wonders if that’s why he was okay with Chloe being involved.
Knowing you’d have her covered but also knowing it’d light a fire under your ass to make your move. ”
I glanced at Pete, who was looking at something on Fallon’s laptop. If I hadn’t been so caught up in all things Chloe and had been thinking straight, I would’ve called that shit two seconds after Pete made the suggestion.
“Anything else?”
“Beck has an in with Sterling.”
My gaze snapped back to Gavin.
“What kind of in?”
“The kind that means Beck will be having dinner with Sterling tonight.”
Christ.
How much had I missed last night?
And Beckett?
On a good day, Beck wasn’t sociable. On a bad day, he could be downright frightening.
“Is that a good idea? Beck, I mean. Is he ready to go back into the field?”
“Word on the street is, Sterling’s looking for a bodyguard.”
That meant Shep had put out feelers, and someone had reported back.
And Beck as an enforcer, yeah, that would work.
“Do we know why?”
“Fallon’s working on that while Shep works on those flight logs.”
“You mean, Fallon was working on it,” Fallon said on an approach, offering me his laptop.
On the screen there was a picture of a blond guy, built in a way that meant he saw a goodly amount of the inside of a gym, along with chemical enhancements to help build the muscle.
But it couldn’t be denied the results were impressive—if he was going for the roid look of the early eighties.
Next to him was a petite, very pretty brunette who also spent time on the inside of the gym and likely ate only salads to the point she was unattractive and boney.
“Meet Tyson Morrison, one of Sterling’s bodyguards,” Fallon announced. “And that’s Cynthia Thomas.”
I glanced at Fallon, then at Pete and asked, “Does Poppy know you found a connection to Sterling?”
“No.” Pete shook his head. “And I think it’s best she doesn’t.”
I didn’t disagree. Cynthia was Poppy’s friend. She needed to be focused but not too focused on Sterling, and if she knew Fallon had found a direct link, she wouldn’t be able to stay impartial with the intel she brought back.
But Chloe was a different story.
“I need to tell Chloe about this.”
“Ryan—”
“I need you to trust me on this. I’m skating on ice so thin, one wrong swipe of my blade and I’ll find myself in water so frigid I’ll freeze to death.
When she finds out I knew about this and didn’t tell her, she’ll be pissed.
Hurt and pissed. If I ask her not to tell Poppy and explain why, she won’t tell her. ”
Pete stared at me for a moment before he imparted wisdom. “Funny thing about honesty. When you give it to clear your conscience, you burden the other person with it.”
I felt a slither of discomfort crawl up my spine. Me telling Chloe served no purpose other than to protect myself. Yet I still couldn’t shake that it was the right thing to do.
“I’ll think on that and let you know which way I roll.”
Fallon turned his laptop back to face him and pecked one-handed at the keys before he turned it back around.
Tyson lying on his side on blacktop, with his throat slit. This after he’d taken one hell of a beating. And by the size of the man, that beatdown was delivered while he was either tied up or there was more than one attacker—say ten of them.
“Where was he found?”
“Manhattan. Lower East Side. Dumped next to a park. And before you ask, police report’s on the server and there are no suspects and no crime scene.”
I looked back at the picture. No pool of blood, just an angry gash across his neck.
“That’s a clean cut,” I noted.
“That’s in the coroner’s report that’s also on the server. No hesitation marks.”
Unlike in the movies, it takes force and skill to slit someone’s throat in one clean swipe. And if the person is struggling, it makes the task even more difficult.
“Beck know this?”
“He will when I call him,” Pete returned.
“Before we got here, did Poppy say anything else about Cythnia’s side gig as a hostess?”
Fallon rejoined to field my question, “No, and we asked. Tomorrow I’m going to take Cat and Calista with me to talk to Pamela and see if we can get something from her.”
Smart move taking the women. Both were smart and capable. Cat would put Pamela at ease and get her talking. Calli would find threads and know which ones to pull.
Speaking of Calli. “Where’s Mase?”
Aiden was at the Plank, so I knew he wasn’t there.
“Him and Calli are on a stakeout at the Vault,” Gavin told me through a smile. “At least that’s what Calli’s calling it. Mase is calling it torture, you know how much he hates surveillance. Aiden will switch places with them later.”
“I’ll drop Chloe off tonight and take a shift.”
“That’ll work.” Pete dipped his chin. “I’ll let you work that out and go over the reports. I’m gonna call Shep.”
With that, Pete turned to walk away. Three steps later, he craned his neck over his shoulder. “Don’t listen to my bullshit. You’re right, you need to tell Chloe about Tyson.”
Before I could say anything, I once again had his back and he was striding away with purpose.
“Noel called,” Gavin informed me. “Not that he shared that. I saw her name on his phone before he snatched it off the table.”
Noel Astley.
This wasn’t good.
“Are you shitting me,” I spat. “Did he answer?”
“Nope. But her name coming up on his screen is enough.”
Fuck, but Gavin wasn’t wrong. As far as I knew, it had been years since the bitch had called Pete.
The last call had necessitated a bottle of hooch and two hours of sitting around a fire until Pete was drunk enough to open up and let the poison out.
Long-lasting poison that Noel had injected going on a decade ago.
There was no point following Pete. He kept his emotions locked up tight. Case in point, if Gavin hadn’t seen the call, none of us would’ve known. He would’ve kept that shit to himself without a flicker of reaction to the pain she still caused.
“We’ll get this done, then come up here with a bottle and sort him out,” Fallon put in. “You need a laptop or do you have yours?”
“Got mine.”
“Right. Let’s get to work.”
Work.
Right.
I wasn’t sure if what I was feeling was dread or impatience.
Or a mix of both. Eager to get this shit done and over with to get Chloe free and clear and shut down whatever operation Sterling had going.
Or terror that in a few hours, Chloe would be in the lion’s den, possibly in the presence of a man who peddled flesh.
She’d called him an apex predator, and that was exactly what he was.