Chapter Twenty-Two
Gracie
“Don’t fucking like this,” I heard Perish grumble as Dezi, Sully, Cain, and Uncle Pagan waited for me to join them.
“It’s the right crew,” Fallon said. “Two crazy fucks,” he went on, meaning Dezi and Uncle Pagan, “ex-SWAT and ex-military.” Cain and Sully. “And Cian’s whole crew will be around too.”
“Send more,” Perish demanded.
“Perish, he’s one fucking guy. Now that they know there’s a threat to look out for, they will be diligent.
We can’t stretch any thinner. Most of the OGs are doing guard work for all the moms and dads to do the fucking parent-teacher conferences.
Everyone else will be here or picking up some of your old crew members. ”
“I can go.”
“And lead the bastard right to her? Fuck no. We’re sneaking her out in the backseat. No one is even going to know she’s left the clubhouse. It’s all settled.”
Fallon used his ‘and don’t ask me again’ dad voice on Perish. I could see from the look in his eye that he wanted to argue, but he knew he couldn’t. Fallon was a pretty lax president, but he wasn’t going to stand for blatant disrespect.
I tried to give him a reassuring smile even as my own belly flipped.
I was surprisingly nervous about leaving the clubhouse. Even though I did genuinely trust the club guys.
If I really dug into it, which I started to do while I rested flat across the backseat of a bullet-resistant SUV, I could conclude that the nervousness was more about things moving forward.
It was hinting at what was to come. When the threat was neutralized and life could go back to normal. When I would lose Perish for good.
Even just the thought had a black hole opening up in my chest, threatening to suck every drop of happiness into its churning depths.
“You sure you turned down the right road?” Sully asked Uncle Pagan from the passenger seat, his gaze moving around the windows.
It was a fair question.
This particular event venue was pretty far outside of Navesink Bank on a sprawling farm that backed up to protected woodland.
I figured Cian had chosen it for its seclusion.
Either so the party could get as wild as he wanted or so no enemies would suspect it was where the party was located. Likely both.
“It’s just after the jug handle,” I called from my position, glancing up to see Cain and Dezi sitting in the third row, their arms resting on the seat back behind me. “It’s a little stone driveway between the barn and the little farmhouse.”
Uncle Pagan shot Sully a I know what I’m doing look and sped around the jug handle the way he had when we were kids, making our bellies flutter like we were on a carnival ride.
“Got an unbuckled passenger back here,” Cain called when he had to reach down and wrap an arm around my hip to keep me from sliding into the floor well.
“Everyone got their weapons and phones?” Uncle Pagan called back. He was the most senior member here, even if he wasn’t an active member of the club anymore.
There was a chorus of affirmations before I spoke again. “Just keep driving past the barns and fields. There is going to be a large log cabin-type building closer to the woods. That’s where we’re going.”
It felt like forever before the SUV finally came to a stop and the engine cut.
From my position, I couldn’t see anyone until Uncle Pagan rolled down his window to speak to him.
“Who the fuck are you?” the man asked, making Dezi snort behind me.
“Pagan. This is Sully, Cain, and Dezi. We brought Gracie. I’m sure Fallon talked to Cian by now.”
There was a brief silence before the man said, “Alright. Yeah. He wants to meet with you before the party, though.”
With that, the men climbed out, and I finally got to sit up and slide out when my uncle opened the door for me.
“You didn’t answer me,” he said, voice low as we fell into step behind Cian’s guard.
“About what?”
“You got your phone?”
“Oh. Yes.”
“And a weapon?”
“I have a pocketknife. My outfit didn’t have room for a holster,” I said, waving down at my sundress.
“Okay. We’re gonna be around, but I want your guard up too.”
I thought they were being paranoid. But protection was their love language, so I kept my mouth shut and just… let them love me.
We were led as a group to the back of the building where a sprawling wooden deck was lit up with twinkle lights. A chiminea was chugging away, chasing off the early spring chill.
Cian was leaning on the railing, glancing at the woods.
I wouldn’t admit it out loud, but I found the woods kind of creepy. Especially at night.
I guess I could link that back to the time I’d been trying to get healthy and take a hike through the woods at a local park and got so hopelessly lost as the sun was setting that I ended up sitting on a log sobbing until some stranger found me and led me back to the parking lot as night fell.
“Boss,” the guard called.
“The cavalry has arrived,” Cian said, unfolding with the predatory grace of a cat and then slowly turning toward us.
I wouldn’t lie; I could absolutely see why Layna mentioned wanting to bounce around on Cian. He was almost absurdly good-looking.
He was tall and a lithe kind of fit in his all-black outfit. He had a wide, strong jaw, a generous mouth, stern brows over dark blue eyes, and one of those ‘more on top’ haircuts with a mid-fade.
He was also someone who paid attention to the finer details.
He was covered in ink, even on the tops of his hands, his neck, and throat.
And he was a fan of jewelry. He wore a cross, a thick silver bracelet, a stud in each ear, a couple of rings that looked like they could cause real damage if he threw a punch, and a nose ring.
Add in his innate sensuality, his unshakable confidence, and the air of danger that clung to him, and, yeah, he was the definition of hot.
Somehow, though, I never felt a stirring of interest. Not even before Perish.
“Gracie,” he greeted me.
“Hey, Cian. Sorry about all this,” I said, waving toward the men all flanking me.
“Shit happens,” he said, shrugging. “That’s the life.” Then, to my uncle, “Had my men scope out the area when we first got here. But feel free to do your own sweep before it gets too crazy.”
“Fallon appreciated your cooperation on this,” Uncle Pagan said as Cian’s gaze fell on Cain.
“I don’t know you.”
“This is Cain,” I introduced. “He’s a prospect.”
“A prospect protecting a princess. You’re either a psychopath like these fucks,” he said, gesturing toward Dezi and my uncle, “or skilled like this one,” he finished, glancing at Sully.
“Can’t I be both?” Cain asked, getting a raised brow from Cian.
“Dez, stay out here with Gracie while we sweep the building.”
With that, the other three headed inside.
“I know it seems like overkill,” I said to Cian, my tone apologetic.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “If you were my girl, I’d have a fucking human shield perimeter around this place.”
“Thanks for understanding. Okay. So, to the task at hand.”
“That’s impressive.”
“What is?”
“How you shift from unsure princess to boss bitch. Kinda hot.”
“I, uh, thanks. So, do you have any worries about the party?”
“Mostly just running out of liquor.”
“I really don’t think it would be humanly possible for this amount of people,” I said, looking at the guest list, “to drink that truckload of alcohol. What?” I asked when he shot me a devilish little smirk.
“Haven’t spent much time with Irish men, huh?”
“We could have another delivery if you’re really worried.”
“Nah. We’re good. The caterers showed up a few minutes ago too. So everything is going smoothly. You probably didn’t even need to come out, if you got shit going on.”
“Well, technically, I don’t. But… trouble kind of circles everyone sometimes.”
“Yeah, I know a thing or two about that. Once you get shit set up, though, you can head out. Don’t need to come to me about it. Once the drinks are flowing, no one is gonna notice anything else about the party.”
That was fair, even if a small part of me didn’t like the idea of people being so drunk that they didn’t notice my hard work.
“Okay. Noted.”
“Goose, you’re good,” my uncle called from the doorway of the cabin.
“Goose?” Cian asked, smile wicked.
I chose not to say anything to that and made my way inside the venue.
The inside was one sprawling space to accommodate any kind of party, but the giant fireplace (gas, I checked, since fire and drunk people did not mix) and the warm wood tones made it feel really cozy.
This party was set up in a mix of stations. A lounge area, a buffet station and tables, and then a pool and poker section.
Everything about the party screamed ‘dude hangout,’ and there wasn’t a single woman around except for myself.
To be fair, that was my doing.
When I saw the guest list, I’d made the executive decision to hire an all-male catering staff.
I wanted to believe that all men were as good and moral as the club was. But I wasn’t willing to risk some other woman’s safety on my hopes and dreams.
In the real world, a large crowd of drunk men could be incredibly dangerous. So I removed that possible threat. Without consulting Cian. But I figured by the time he noticed, the party would be half over.
I spent the next half hour moving through the venue, checking things off my list on my clipboard, talking to staff, and making sure everything was just right.
Then the crowds started making their way in.
So many men that there was no way this was just Cian’s crew, making me wonder if this was some sort of multi-state Irish mafia meet-up or something.
The thought had my stomach tensing, knowing how even supposedly peaceful meetings between crews could end in violence. But once the food came out and everyone started drinking, the tension that had initially been in the air drifted away and got replaced with a light, fun atmosphere.
Men’s laughter filled the air.
Pool balls smacked together.
Poker chips clicked as they fell into the piles on the table.
Music thumped.
It was all just very… civil. Fun. Light.
I noticed one of the serving dishes was empty before the catering staff did, so I put down my clipboard and brought the dish into the kitchen to be filled.
Figuring I had two minutes, I made my way toward the staff bathroom to freshen up.
I was making my way out, passing the side exit of the building when it happened.
The door flew open.
I whipped around.
I saw the catering outfit first: the black on black top and pants with the black apron.
Nothing to be worried about.
Until my gaze tracked up and up.
I saw the scar first.
The crooked nose.
Then the whole face I’d stared at for hours while helping the sketch artist draw it up.
Cameron.
The problem was that by the time my gaze made it to his face, he was on me, hand over my mouth, locked arm around my neck.
I had less than five seconds to get free.
And I knew how, dammit.
Until he did the one thing that would prevent me from using my moves.
He lifted up.
The second my feet left the ground, I knew I was screwed. At least for the moment.
I was pulled back outside.
The last thing I saw before the choke took me out was the prone body of Sully on the ground.
I was out cold before I could even see if he was still alive.