Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Romeo
Chasm had disappeared into Steele’s office an hour ago while Ace, Big Ben, and I worked downstairs with the Little Rock brothers. Weapons were counted, damaged furniture shoved aside, and anything Steele or Stone might have left behind was separated for Omen to examine.
The place had the restless energy of men trying to reclaim a home after discovering how thoroughly someone else had poisoned it.
Keeping my hands occupied helped.
It did absolutely fucking nothing for my head.
Fiona’s messages from before we left Nebraska kept creeping back in whenever there was a quiet moment.
I wanted you here.
I’m just tired of missing you.
She hadn’t complained. She hadn’t asked me to choose her instead of the club. If anything, she’d made it painfully easy for me to leave.
Maybe that was what bothered me.
I could deal with Fiona getting pissed at me. I could charm, tease, argue, apologize, or show up and let her make me suffer.
That quiet disappointment was harder.
When Chasm still hadn’t emerged, I headed down the hallway and knocked on the office door. He glanced up before returning to the papers spread across the desk as I stepped inside and took the chair across from him. “How’s it going in here?”
“Slow,” he answered without looking up.
No shit.
The office had been stripped nearly bare. Whatever Steele believed could expose him had either been destroyed or taken. Chasm was left sifting through scraps, hoping the bastard had overlooked something.
He pulled open another drawer and removed the few folders left inside. I couldn’t read the labels from my side of the desk, but I didn’t need to see them to know something had changed.
Chasm froze.
The color drained from his face as he spread the folders across the desk.
“Son of a bitch!”
“What is it?”
He looked up, and what I saw on his face got me out of the chair and rounding the desk.
Six names were written across the folders.
Meadow Elliot.
Windsor Moore.
Kaitlyn Ward.
Sullivan Prescott.
Lauren Hollis.
Morgan Delany.
My attention caught on the third.
King had handed the president patch to Angel after Banshee killed Steele. He wasn’t here now because he’d asked to go nomad when he found out Kaitlyn existed. Somewhere out there was a grown woman who had no idea how many dangerous men were looking for her.
“Kaitlyn Ward is the baby Kay had. Angel’s baby,” I supplied.
Chasm barely reacted.
His attention was locked on the last folder.
Morgan Delany.
His fingers curled around the edge hard enough to bend it.
“He has a file on my fucking wife,” he growled. “How the fuck did he know?”
Good fucking question.
Morgan had always been kept separate from the club. If Steele knew she was Chasm’s wife, he’d been digging into places none of us realized. If he didn’t know and had a file on Morgan for some other reason, I wasn’t sure that was any better.
Chasm grabbed his phone and called King.
“Hello?”
“Did you tell Steele I got married?”
“Of course I didn’t fucking tell him,” King snapped. “Why?”
“He’s got six files in his office; each file has a girl’s name. One of them is Morgan.”
“What does it say?”
There was nothing in the folder. No notes. No photographs. Not a damn thing to tell us why Morgan’s name had earned a folder inside Steele’s office.
“The files are empty. So whatever was in them, Stone took it when he left.”
“I guess you better get your ass to Virginia,” King ordered.
Virginia.
My attention shifted from the folder to Chasm.
The bastard now had a club-sanctioned reason to go straight to Rosewood, and judging by the way his jaw tightened, he was already inventing reasons not to take it.
“I can’t, King. She deserves better than what I can offer her.”
I rolled my eyes and dropped back into the chair, settling one ankle over my knee.
There were days when Chasm was too fucking stupid to deserve sympathy.
He could call disappearing a sacrifice all he wanted.
Morgan hadn’t been given a choice in the matter.
I knew damn well what it cost to wait for a woman to decide what she wanted.
Every instinct I had demanded the opposite where Fiona was concerned, but her choice had to belong to her.
Chasm had never given Morgan one.
“And what if she’s in danger, Chasm? What then?” King demanded through the phone. “This shit isn’t over. Dakota and Zephyr are out there licking their fucking wounds. Stone is still alive, and by now, he knows you are too. You think he won’t go after Morgan?”
Chasm’s thumb moved over her name, but he said nothing.
“You know what, asshole, fucking forget it.”
The call disconnected, and a second later, my phone rang.
I looked at the screen.
Prez.
Chasm’s eyes narrowed when I smiled.
“Hey, Prez, what’s up?”
King didn’t waste time. If Chasm refused to get his head out of his ass, he wanted me to go check on Morgan.
Now that sounded like a fucking plan.
Not because I wasn’t worried about Morgan. I was. But after being dragged farther and farther from Fiona for weeks, club business had finally decided to cooperate with me.
“I can do that. Yup, I’ll go check on her. You gonna call King and tell him we’re coming up to Virginia?”
Chasm’s chair scraped violently against the floor.
There it was.
He came around the desk and ripped the phone from my hand.
“Don’t fucking call King. I will go check on her, but I don’t want her to know I’m there.”
I leaned back in the chair and smiled.
The asshole could tell himself he was only going because Morgan might be in danger; he could even skulk around Rosewood and pretend that seeing his wife wasn’t the real reason he’d changed his mind in less than thirty seconds.
Regardless, he was going.
“I knew you’d see reason. What about the other names?”
“One of them was Kaitlyn Ward. Also empty. The others were names I don’t recognize, but I’ll get Omen on them and see what he can find.”
“Expect Angel to be there tomorrow, because once I tell him, he’ll be on his way. Banshee might be with him.”
Chasm closed his eyes. “Great, just what I need.”
“You’ll be in Virginia, asshole.”
The call ended and Chasm handed my phone back with a glare. I shoved it into my pocket, equal parts smug bastard and pissed off Cajun.
Of course he was going to Rosewood.
And of course I wasn’t.
I’d spent weeks trying to get there, and Chasm had spent seven fucking years avoiding the place. Somehow the universe had decided he deserved the direct route.
I pushed out of the chair before I could get any more pissed about it.
At least Morgan would have someone watching her.
Fiona would have to wait a little longer.
And apparently, so would I.
By the time I made it back to Diamond Creek, I was fucking tired of motorcycles, highways, and every state that wasn’t Virginia. I sat at the clubhouse bar with my phone in my hand while Fiona sent me photographic evidence of her latest crime against breakfast.
The toast in the picture was black enough to qualify as charcoal.
Ma Belle: She said I’m no longer allowed to make breakfast
Me: Seems harsh. You only tried to burn the house down once.
The dots appeared beneath my message, but before Fiona could answer, Gator’s name replaced them on the screen.
I considered ignoring him because my cousin had terrible timing and absolutely no respect for romance.
I answered anyway. “This better be good. I was busy.”
“Doing what?”
“Charming a beautiful woman.”
“Your hand don’t count.”
“Jealousy is ugly on you, cousin.”
“Find King.”
The change in his voice killed my smile.
I set my beer on the bar and glanced toward the hallway. King had disappeared into church alone a few minutes earlier. I hadn’t asked why. A closed church door generally meant he wanted privacy, and I had enough problems without volunteering for another one.
“He’s in church.”
“Then get your ass in there.”
“What happened?”
“Morgan finally told Dev everythin’.”
That could mean a hell of a lot. Morgan and Devlyn had known each other long before either woman became tangled up with bikers.
“And?”
“Sal is her daddy.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“Whose daddy?”
Gator let out an impatient breath. “Morgan’s, you couyon. Braesal O’Malley is Morgan Delany’s father.”
For once in my life, I had no smartass response.
King was Sal’s son.
Morgan was Sal’s daughter.
Holy fucking shit.
“The same Morgan?”
“Yeah.”
“Morgan Delany?”
“That would be her.”
“Holy fuck.” I ran my hand through my hair as I stared at the church doors.
“Yeah.”
“How long has she known?”
“Long enough.”
“And she just told Dev?”
“She called her. I was sittin’ right there, and before you ask, she knew damn well I could hear her. I was part of the conversation.”
“What about Chasm?”
“Doesn’t know shit.”
I rubbed a hand over my mouth.
He would soon.
King held a special place for Morgan. He’d been the one who found her when she miscarried and almost died days after we lost Chasm.
Now it turned out the woman he’d spent seven years mourning from a distance was King’s sister.
Sal was probably going to bring half the Irish Mob down on Rosewood once the rest of this came out.
What a fucking mess.
“Rome.”
“I heard you.”
“You sound too quiet. Makes me nervous.”
“I’m thinking,” I hissed into the phone.
“That’s what makes me fuckin’ nervous.”
“Fuck you.”
“Love you too, cousin. Go tell King.”
I disconnected and slid off the stool. Fiona’s answer had arrived while I was on the phone.
Ma Belle: You aren’t as funny as you think you are
I smiled.
Me: Funny enough to keep you answering me, Cher.
I shoved the phone into my pocket and headed for church.
Morgan lived in Rosewood. Chasm had gone there after finding her file in Steele’s office. Now I knew something about Morgan that Chasm didn’t, and King needed to know before this family tree sprouted another goddamn branch behind his back.
I didn’t bother knocking.
The door hit the wall when I shoved it open.
King stood beside the table with his phone pressed to his ear, and the look he gave me suggested I’d just interrupted something I was going to regret.
“What the fuck, Rome?! I’m on the phone.”
“Morgan Delany is Braesal O’Malley’s daughter,” I said. “She’s your fucking sister.”
He glared at me, and I waited until the anger in his face shifted as the words finally registered.
“The fuck did you just say?”
“Gator called. Morgan told him and Devlyn. Sal is her father.”
King stared at me as I watched the realization hit.
Sal.
Morgan.
Him.
His expression changed almost immediately.
“Chasm, where the fuck is Morgan?”
Well, that answered who was on the phone. I stepped inside and closed the door while King listened to whatever Chasm said from Rosewood.
“Is it true?”
His hand closed around the arm of the chair. Then his head snapped up.
“Morgan!” The name cracked through the room. “Is. It. True?”
King went completely still.
Whatever answer he heard settled the question.
I’d watched this man find out he had family he’d never known existed. I’d seen him discover lies that went back decades.
This wasn’t the same.
Morgan wasn’t some stranger whose blood suddenly matched his.
He knew her.
They already had memories together. Years of them.
“Don’t fucking move, Jude,” King ordered before ending the call.
He dropped the phone onto the table and stared at it. I kept my fucking mouth shut. Some moments didn’t need Romeo DuBois trying to make them fucking funny. King dragged both hands over his face before bracing them on the table.
“Gator heard it from her?” he asked, his eyes never lifting.
“Yeah. She called Devlyn. Gator was part of the conversation.”
“And O’Malley?”
“Don’t know what Sal knows.”
He gave a humorless laugh. “Of course you fucking don’t.”
King pushed away from the table and grabbed his phone again. “Get the brothers ready.”
“For what?”
His head turned slowly. Okay. Stupid question.
“We’re going to Rosewood.”
Every thought in my head stopped.
Rosewood.
Fiona.
I’d spent weeks hearing that woman tell me she missed me while one thing after another kept my ass everywhere except where I wanted to be.
Now I was finally going back.
My hand went toward my phone before I stopped myself.
I wanted to tell her. Hell, I wanted to call and listen to the exact second she realized I was coming.
But I’d already given Fiona enough promises before the road beneath them was solid.
This time, I wasn’t telling her I was coming until nothing could stop me.
King was staring at me. “What the fuck are you smiling about?”
“Nothing.”
“Wipe the fucking smirk off your face.”
I tried.
I couldn’t.
King had just learned Chasm was married to his sister. Sal was going to lose his fucking mind. Rosewood was about to be invaded by angry bikers and Irishmen, and the whole situation had disaster written all over it.
I probably should’ve been concerned.
Instead, all I could think was that somewhere in the middle of that disaster was Fiona.