Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Malachy
I’m a damn fool. I should have asked for three favors instead of one. Actually, I should have let Patrick negotiate with Callum.
Rather than spending the day snuggled up with Charlotte or hanging out with Lukas, getting to know the boy, I’m stuck gathering supplies and ordering around a team that I don’t even know.
That always makes me twitchy.
I like working with my own guys, but that’s the entire reason Callum will owe me big after tonight.
I’m the one putting my neck on the line if something goes sideways.
Callum’s guys are efficient at breaking and entering.
It’s a little scary how fast they set up the motel room to look like a mobile meth lab.
It’s even more impressive when the secondary team shows up to evacuate the motel and the surrounding area.
There aren’t many people, and the ones who are staying at this place don’t want to be bothered.
No one complains as they’re told to find a new place to stay and given a few hundred dollars for their trouble.
The waiting is the worst part.
It’s cold as shit, and keeping the engine running would be suspicious. I turn the SUV on for short bursts, but time moves exceptionally slowly.
My phone vibrates in the cup holder, and I snatch it up. The name on the display is Cormac not Callum.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, answering the call.
“Grim won. Big surprise there,” Cormac says over the noise in the background. “The remaining bikers left without incident, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t planning to regroup. Wilder, Grim, and Callum seem to be having a celebratory foursome with their omega. They’re no help.”
I shrug, even though he can’t see it. “Callum told me to have his team proceed unless I hear from him. I’m going with that and lighting it up once they show.”
“Right,” he says, and the background noise gets even louder. “But I was thinking. They have no use for someone to get information out of…”
“But we do,” I say, finishing his sentence for him. “Ya want me to try to grab one of the remaining MC members?”
“Only if you can do so without blowing yourself up in the process,” Cormac says. “Excuse me, you’re blocking the door…”
I chuckle.
He’s so polite to strangers while casually talking about kidnapping a MC brother and tossing them into his torture dungeon.
It’s technically the basement under the shed, but he inherited the space from his biological father and immediately gave it an upgrade. It no longer looks like you’re walking into a dilapidated, collapsed building.
Patrick and I venture out there occasionally, since it’s linked to the main house with a convenient tunnel, but we mostly leave Cormac to play with whoever we need information out of.
I certainly don’t have the stomach necessary for torture. Somehow he does, and I’m grateful. It means I don’t have to do it.
“Do you have a kit with you?” Cormac asks. “This is why I tell you and Patrick not to leave home without one. I’ve even got them easily labeled. That way, you know what dosage to administer based on estimated body weight.” He means one of the drug kits he carries with him everywhere.
“Sometimes you fecking scare me,” I tell him before hanging up.
I might get it done the old-fashioned way, but I’ve got this.
The bikers reserved three rooms for their men, and although it takes a little extra planning, I swap to the room next to theirs.
Hell, they’re down to only four guys in Boston after the fight.
If they’d booked one more, they could have each had a room to themselves.
It would have been wasted money. Those motherfuckers won’t make it through the night.
I update Trent, the explosives guy, to let him know I’ll be in the hot zone.
If it’s possible to grab one of those assholes, I will. I’m also not about to get myself blown to hell by being stubborn.
I can hear them before I see them.
Their bikes are obnoxiously loud.
I’d never ride in this kind of weather. You’re asking to fuck up your bike, but that’s just me. They obviously have something to prove.
Hell, they’re from Florida.
Maybe they didn’t realize it would be a problem.
I peek out the blinds. I’ve already got the door propped open so they won’t hear it click when I pull it open.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I can only assume that’s Trent telling me he’s locked and loaded. His job is to run up and place a small incendiary device on whichever bike ends up in the middle.
Right on cue, the first MC member enters the parking lot. The other three follow, pulling into the spots right in front of the doors to the rooms they’re staying in.
It’s kind of a dark image knowing the empty bikes they left in the lot belonged to the guys Grim took out that first night. It vaguely makes me wonder what happened to the bikes of the guys who didn’t make it out of the ring tonight, but that’s not my problem.
My adrenaline and cortisol do their respective things, causing my senses to hyperfocus and my breathing to regulate.
They climb off their bikes and pull off their helmets.
I stay focused on the man closest to me. He takes off his helmet like the others, but rather than carrying it inside with him, he drops it onto the seat of his bike and squats down to dig something out of one of his saddlebags.
I can’t be certain the other three have actually made it into the rooms, but if one of them checks the bathroom…
We’re fucked.
This was always going to be a tight transition.
I yank open the door and make my way to the parking lot. When I’m only a few feet away from the guy they left behind, the door to one of their rooms closes. I make it to the man as he’s busy eyeing Trent, who approaches from the other direction.
I tap the asshole on the shoulder, and he turns to appraise me in the same second he pops up.
My fist connects with his jaw, and I fully follow through.
Normally, I don’t, because my size makes it questionable about if I might actually kill someone, but that’s usually only something I worry about when I aim for the temple.
Pulling back, I prepare to land another punch.
Only, I don’t have to. His eyes go hazy, and he wobbles like he’s about to take his bike down.
Grabbing him by his vest, I tug him to me, bend down, and hoist him over my shoulder before toting him across the parking lot.
“I’m offering cover,” Trent says, backing toward us with his eyes on the motel.
We barely make it to the front of my SUV before the explosion hits. The windows explode outward, showering the sidewalk and parking lot with glass. We’re twenty to twenty-five feet away, and the heat is still enough to have me moving farther back.
Trent makes it to my side as I toss the MC member on the ground to unlock the back of my SUV. “I brought a little cocktail, but it appears you had it under control.”
“Thanks,” I grunt, waiting for the back hatch to respond to the clicker.
He squats, pulling a syringe from his pocket.
He uncaps it and jabs the needle into the man’s throat.
“This way, you won’t have to worry about him waking up on your drive.
That could be an unpleasant surprise.” He rips the needle free, caps it, and stands.
“Alright. Let me help you get him into the vehicle. We need to split now.”
Cormac meets me outside the shed and, together, we carry the heavy fucker down into his workshop. It’s almost more creepy since the upgrade. The floor is a type of black-painted something that’s smooth to avoid any DNA landing in any cracks or crevices.
I would have thought concrete was fine, but Cormac gave me a thorough lecture on why that’s not the case.
I didn’t actually listen to a word he said, but I let him think his speech convinced me. It was pricey. Though fully worth it if it makes it easier to conceal biological evidence.
We get the biker on the gurney in what Cormac calls his “intake room,” and I start backing toward the door.
“You’ve got it from here, right?” I say with a hopeful lilt to my tone.
“Not even close.” Cormac turns to a cabinet and opens the top drawer, pulling out an elbow-long pair of black gloves.
“Did you pat him down? Does he have a cell phone or wallet? Did you check him for a tracker? What medication did you give him and at what dosage? I need to know how long he’s going to be out for, if possible. ”
I rock on my heels, shrugging. “No and no idea. I was more focused on getting the hell out of there before the cops showed up. No idea about a tracker, and Trent dosed him, so it could be anything…”
Cormac’s lashes flutter behind his glasses, like he can’t believe he got stuck with a Neanderthal for a brother. “Just go. I’ll handle it.”
I barely hold back the smile. That’s exactly what I was planning to do, anyway.
After disposing of my clothes in Cormac’s workshop, I have to take the creepy-ass tunnel back to the basement of the house in only my boots and a towel. It’s cold as fuck, and there are likely spiders, but I’m a grown-ass man.
I deal with that shit, and once I’m inside, I take a scalding shower to clean any cobwebs out of my hair and dress in sweats.
It’s late enough that I could call it a night and it wouldn’t look weird, but I’m sure Patrick wants a status update. I head out into the hallway, intending to go downstairs to check the living room and his office.
Only, I find myself lingering in front of Charlotte’s door.
Jesus.
I’ve got a real problem.
Even knowing she’s right on the other side of the door makes me twitchy. If I had known she was going to come into our lives, I would have put cameras in every room of the house. That way, I could watch her on my phone, reassure myself that she’s okay, and not scare her off in the process.
Is that an invasion of privacy?
Probably.
Okay, it is.
I’m fucking losing it.
Swiping a hand over my face, I shake my head, and I try to force one foot in front of the other.
It’s not fucking working.
She had nightmares last night.
What if she’s in there, trapped in a horrible memory that she can’t escape?
Not that I did much last night.
Wow. I’m legitimately losing my shit over a woman who is likely only here because we kidnapped her and told her she wouldn’t be safe if she left.
Then again, I did just assist in blowing up three bikers for her.
I wouldn’t have helped Callum out if it didn’t succeed in keeping Charlotte safe.
I’m sure the fourth will be waking up at any time, wishing he had made it into the motel with his mates.
Come to think of it, Callum probably won’t like to hear that I didn’t finish the job.
That’s too damn bad.
We’ll dispose of the final biker once Cormac verifies whether he has any helpful information.
I try the door handle to Charlotte’s room before I can talk myself out of the action. I’m shocked she hasn’t locked it, but maybe she feels like she can’t because this isn’t her house?
Her room and the one next door share the same attached bathroom. If it came down to it, I could have let myself in through there.
Lucky is once again spread across the majority of the bed, and I chuckle as I close the door behind me. For being so damn small, he sure takes up a lot of space.
Charlotte is on her side, facing her son. I keep my steps soft and circle around to her side of the bed. She seems to be sleeping soundly, but nightmares can pop up at any time.
Or that’s what I tell myself.
It’s best if I watch over her for a while in a completely non-creepy way.
I’m as careful as a giant can be when I climb onto the mattress, and it still bounces them around. We need to invest in better quality mattresses for the guest bedrooms. My bed hardly moves when I climb onto it.
Leaning against the headboard, I stretch out my legs. If I tried to lie flat, I’d hang off the mattress, but this is a good compromise. I cross my arms over my chest, breathing in Charlotte’s pheromones. They aren’t heavy or overly thick, but any contact with omega pheromones should help.
It’s some time later that Charlotte rolls over in her sleep. Her face collides with my side, and she grunts, tossing her arm over my middle.
I smile down at her like a besotted fool.
Christ.
I really need to talk to my brothers and Wilder.
I no longer have any interest in fulfilling the marriage contract with Vanessa Chapman, and that’s a whole different can of worms. It goes against everything I promised my fathers before they died, but it’s for the best. When I sink my teeth into an omega, it’ll be for the first and last time.
I won’t fuck around and break her heart.
If I get married, it’ll be to someone I can see a real future with, and it won’t have anything to do with honoring some fecking contract that never should have existed in the first place.