Chapter 11
Keys had to silence the alarms. They were too loud, too distracting.
By the time Rose came back with Oscar tucked against her hip and a tablet already in the boy’s hands, Keys felt like he had less information. Not more. The fire department was now on scene, as were a number of cop cruisers and ambulances.
Fear pulled at him like tentacles. Was this him? Had he and his secrets caused this catastrophe? How had Kennedy found them? It didn’t seem possible, but what other alternative was there? The club had no current enemies, no current fights. What had he done?
On the numerous monitors in front of him, various scenes and angles played at once.
His headset was never quiet as he fought to get Bulldog, Carlos, and Captain Hunter as much information as he could.
Every club member, ol’ lady, and club kid had a tracker on them.
They were to be worn at all times, especially after several kidnappings, and one case of a missing child that had been right under their noses the entire time.
Every shoe a club kid owned had a tracker in the sole.
For the infants, it was their pacifiers and strollers.
Keys had spent a fortune on them, but he was taking no chances of losing another member or family.
The ol’ ladies who were married had their trackers in their wedding bands, while those who didn’t had a choice between a necklace or pair of earrings.
As former military, the club members were used to wearing dog tags, so it was a no-brainer what to make their trackers.
On one side of the tag it had the Via Daemonia logo, and on the other was the script:
If you’re close enough to read this, you’re close enough to die.
Ghost and Grumpy were the only ones working at the bar.
The rest were scattered around, though most were at their respective homes with their families this time of the evening.
Other than one ol’ lady and club kid, who were at the grocery store, and Tessa, who was at work at the hospital, Becks was the only one not on property.
But she was with Ranger at his girlfriend’s apartment, so she was safe.
“Where do you need me?”
A quick glance over his shoulder showed Oscar, still covered in paint and now in shorts and a t-shirt, was sitting in a swivel chair with his headphones on and tablet resting on his knees.
Rose had also brought him a water bottle with a lid and a straw.
Keys quickly set a command to go off every eight minutes to check on him.
He couldn’t get such tunnel vision dealing with the outside world that Oscar was forgotten or neglected.
Rose pulled up a chair next to Keys, grabbing for another headset and keyboard.
Did she realize they were the ones he bought her at her last move?
He’d placed them in the lab thinking that one day they could be sitting here working together—but he never dreamed it would be under these circumstances!
“Oh God!”
Keys looked over at one of the monitors in front of Rose at her horrified exclamation.
The view was of the bar’s parking lot, which was currently a mixture of red, blue, and purple lights dancing with the glow of the raging inferno.
Firemen in bright yellow uniforms were carrying out the body of a large man with long, brunette hair.
Bile rose, and Keys quickly moved back over to his own monitors.
Several commands later gave Keys a closer view of the scene from the camera at the front of Carlos’ cruiser.
He saw an injured Ghost being restrained on a stretcher as Bear and paramedics rushed to the fireman and their injured club brother.
“Grumpy,” Keys breathed out, horrified. A wave of coldness spread over him, like he’d swallowed a fistful of ice cubes.
The quiet brother had visible burns all over his body, but the worst of his injuries was the shard of jagged glass protruding from his left eye. Was he even alive?
It was too noisy to tune into the radios at the scene, but Keys was able to get confirmation from the call the paramedics made to the hospital that Grumpy was alive. His condition was extremely critical, though.
“Find a specialist,” Keys ordered Rose. “Someone, anyone, who can help him.” Keys had no idea what sort of surgeries or recovery Grumpy was going to need, but he knew that the doctors at Mount Grove Memorial—though very good doctors—would not be the sort of specialist Grumpy would need.
He’d pay out of pocket if necessary to get Grumpy the care he needed.
There was no expense too expensive for family, in Keys’ opinion.
“On it,” Rose responded immediately. Though they were sitting right next to each other, their headsets were connected just as they had been when they were solving problems with thousands of miles between them.
Bodies of the dead were being lined up outside on the pavement.
So far, it was only two, but there were many more still left inside the inferno—and that roof was not going to last much longer.
Deputy Scott Pan and a local physical therapist lay next to each other with sheets draped over them.
Danny, the youngest of Mount Grove’s deputies, was on his knees next to his fallen comrade, his face in his hands as his shoulders shook violently.
Keys had always felt a kinship with Danny. Though they weren’t particularly close, they were both the “kid” of their respective groups. Hell, Keys was now twenty-six, but to many of the club, he would forever be nineteen in their eyes. Danny faced a similar stereotype in his career.
The list of injured was growing, including Ghost. His ambulance was right behind Grumpy’s, but at least he was alive.
“Keys!”
At his name, Keys switched the view of his main monitor to the parking lot security camera. Bulldog was on his phone, but was looking up at the camera as if he could see Keys, too.
“I’m here,” Keys responded. At the same time, he sent a message to Thorne asking for an update on the ol’ ladies and club kids.
Grimm had been sent to collect Sophia and Charles from the grocery store.
At the time of the explosion, they were the only ones exposed.
Ranger and Becks were still at Cameron’s apartment, so he must be keeping her secure there.
It was one less thing Keys had to concentrate on, knowing that Ranger had his sister and their president’s woman.
Though he did send a quick message off to Ranger that Ghost was being transported to the hospital.
Before Bulldog could ask the question, Keys responded based on Thorne’s report. “The property is secure. No signs of anything amiss. And I am working on finding an ocular surgeon in the area we can bring in for Grumpy.”
On the monitor, Keys saw Bulldog nod once, though the tension in the SAA’s shoulders did not lessen at the update. “We need a final headcount of who was inside. Captain Hunter is going to have to call it soon.”
Fuck. The building structure must be worse than he could tell from the various camera angles. Captain Hunter might be a small-town fireman, but he was very good at his job. If he said the building was going to come down, Keys had no doubt.
A message appeared on the screen in front of him. Fucking hell, just when he didn’t think he could fall for Rose more, she went and did something like this.
“Remaining headcount is nine,” Keys informed Bulldog from Rose’s message.
“Tell them to search towards the back, where the pool tables were. Looks like six bankers were meeting there, and so far none have been recovered.” Most of the damage was to the opposite side of the bar, but that didn’t mean smoke and flame couldn’t reach them on the other side of the building.
“And, Bulldog?” Keys added when he saw the other half of Rose’s message. “Frankie’s still inside the bar.”
Bulldog stiffened. “Our Frankie?”
Frankie had been hired on originally as the club’s nanny, but as the amount of club kids continued to multiply, she needed assistance.
After Pumpkin’s motorcycle accident, she became responsible for SJ, Pumpkin’s infant son, during his recovery.
They became friends, and when it was discovered that Pumpkin’s offspring were just going to keep coming, she stayed on as nanny for Pumpkin’s kids, though she still assisted and helped out with the other club kids as needed.
“She was at the bar with Ghost when…” Keys’ voice trailed off. He’d only been able to watch the security recordings once leading up to the explosion.
Rose didn’t stop typing on her keyboard, but she did move her chair over to link her foot around his under the desk. It centered Keys in a way that no prescription drug ever could have.
“She’s still missing,” he added to Bulldog. “As are Monica and Gracie.”
Bulldog nodded stoically. “Keys, I need you to find this bastard. Whoever’s responsible. You find him, and when Ghost is ready, we’ll go hunting.”
Guilt squeezed Keys’ chest in a vise. There was a good possibility that Bulldog was talking to the person responsible.
But Keys would not hide that fact. If this was Kennedy, if he’d somehow found Rose and tracked her to Mount Grove, Keys would not run.
He’d face the firing squad of his actions—even if it was his own club that pulled the trigger.
“I will,” he vowed.
Bulldog hung up, and Keys hung his head low over his keyboard, his fingers freezing for the first time in nearly an hour.
“It’s going to be okay.” Rose’s voice quiet and level in a way that told him she was locking everything down better than he was.
Glancing up, he saw that she’d pulled her blonde hair back.
He didn’t know when. She was just ready, the same way she always became ready, like flipping a switch on her emotions.
He’d admired it for nearly two years through a screen, but in person, it was something else to witness entirely.
“I’ll handle the club,” she told him sternly. “You take Kennedy.”