Thirty-Three
On Halloween, they’d raided every known Ellison property, and an afternoon of recon proved that none of those houses had been put back to use. Which meant Tango was being held somewhere off the map.
“I have an idea,” Aidan told Ian over the phone. “I’ll call you back when I know something.”
The guy drew breath to say something in response, and Aidan hung up on him. He didn’t have time for all that proper grammar bullshit.
“You actually have an idea?” Carter asked.
“Yeah.” He pocketed his phone and glanced toward the parking lot as he heard the drone of an engine. Mercy was back in one of the club trucks with lunch. “After work,” he said, under his breath, as his brother-in-law climbed out of the truck and carried a half dozen takeout containers from Stella’s over to the picnic table.
“What’re y’all doing in there?” he called. “Gossiping like chicks?” It sounded only half-teasing.
“Yeah, exactly,” Aidan said. He thumped Carter in the arm and they went out to eat, tingling under the skin with delayed action.
The sharp tang of danger lay heavy on the back of Aidan’s tongue. Since deciding on a course of action, he’d begun to feel the stares of his brothers more acutely; imagined them guessing his thoughts, reading his intent to subvert Ghost’s authority. Which glance would be the final deduction? When would it be dragged before MC court and dismantled?
“They were outta lasagna,” Mercy said as Aidan sat down across from him. “So I got manicotti.”
“That’s cool.”
Mercy knew. Oh shit, he knew! His dark eyes were level and serious on the other side of the table, his face – so jovial most of the time – set at sharp angles that brought out the lean meanness of his features.
“What?” Aidan asked, heart pounding.
“You’re being weird.”
He…didn’t know?
Aidan shook his head and ducked over his food. “Whatever, man.”
~*~
This was the tricky part. He hated that he had to ask for this kind of help, of all helps, but it couldn’t be avoided, and time was of the essence.
“Wait out here?” he asked Carter in the driveway of Sam’s house. The sun was fast setting, the last dull glimmers flitting along the roof of Sam’s battleship car.
Carter took off his helmet and pulled out his phone. Ready to call Jazz no doubt. “Yeah, that’s fine.” The screen of his phone lit up, flashing blue across his face, highlighting the small smile there as his thumb moved across the keys.
Not wanting a front row seat to the Jockstrap & Jazz Sexting Hour, he put his back to his former charge and headed up the back sidewalk with several deep breaths. He attempted to do something to his hair – impossible curly mess that it was. It needed cutting, just like he needed a shave, just like his hoodie needed washing and his cut needed oiling…
Later. This sudden logjam of belated responsibility would make him crazy if he didn’t parse it out one chore at a time. Right now, he needed to get to Greg, which meant going through Erin’s dipshit boyfriend, which meant –
He was at the door sooner than he thought he’d be. He wasn’t ready. Tensing, holding his breath, he knocked politely.
His insides grabbed, a physical pain searing through him as Sam opened the door. She wore loose jeans and a fitted sweater that highlighted her figure and made her seem thinner. Had she lost weight since he’d last held her? Had she been so devastated that she’d had trouble eating? Her beautiful face was like a homing beacon for him. He wanted to wrap her long braid around his wrist and unwind it slowly, piece by piece, until he could bury his hands in the heavy blonde waves and smell the floral notes of her shampoo.
God, he was a sap.
God, he loved her so much.
“Hi,” she said with a brave little smile, knuckling up her glasses. Her cute slip of a nose just didn’t hold them well. “What’s up?”
“You’re gorgeous, you know that?” he said before he could catch himself, errand blasted away by the joy of seeing her.
She blushed.
“I mean, really, truly, honest to God gorgeous as all hell. Inside and out.”
Her head tilted, color coming into her cheeks. “Aidan.” A reproach…and a soft, lingering tone that said so many things. She missed him, and that was encouraging; that enabled him to take a deep breath.
“Right,” he said. “I need to ask a favor, is why I’m here. Can I come in?” He lifted his hands, showing her his empty palms. “No funny business, I swear.”
She stepped aside. “Of course. I’m making dinner.”
He sat down at the kitchen table, stomach rumbling as he smelled whatever she had going in the skillet and knew he wouldn’t be allowed to stay for the meal. Boyfriends got dinner; people who needed to grow up got audiences, but that was it.
She went to the stove, picked up a wooden spoon and stirred, releasing the tangy smell of heating onions and garlic. “Are you okay?” she asked, eyes darting over, full of concern.
He took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. “Mostly. I’m working on a way to get Kev back.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
She nodded, face crimping with a sudden burst of emotion. “Good. That’s…good. I…” She looked at him again, falling silent. “God, Aidan, if I could help in any way…”
“You can, baby,” he assured. “And you’re not gonna like it, but it could be huge for me. For Kev.”
She took a deep breath too, and nodded. “Okay.”
“I need Erin to get me in contact with Jesse. He knows somebody I need to have a little chat with.”
She considered a moment. “This won’t affect Erin?”
“Not even a little.”
She nodded. “Hold on.” And left the room, calling, “Erin! Can you come down here a second?”
Both sisters entered a moment later, Erin shocking in her state of cleanliness and youth. She wore no makeup, and was in jeans and a tame sweatshirt.
“Hi,” she said, sliding into the chair beside him. “Sam said you needed something?”
“Yeah, kid. It’s a favor, and it’s a big one, but it’ll really help me out if you can come through.”
She fiddled with the cuffs of her sweatshirt, glanced at her sister and earned a nod of encouragement. “Okay.”
“Can you give me Jesse’s number?”
She looked startled. “Um, why?”
He wanted to grit his teeth and shake her for being a teenager. Damn, had he been that way at sixteen? He felt extremely sorry for Mags, having to deal with him back then.
“A friend of mine,” he said, forcing patience, “my best friend since high school. My bro, you know?”
She nodded, growing solemn.
“He’s been abducted by some really bad guys.”
“Aid,” Sam said, just a breath. But she didn’t try to stop him. It was time Erin learned that there were more important things in life than eye liner.
Erin gulped visibly.
“There’s someone I need to talk to about this,” Aidan continued. “And the only way I can think to get hold of him is through your boyfriend.”
“Jesse?” Some of her distress eased and she curled her lip in derision. “He’s not my boyfriend anymore.”
“Good for you,” he said, and meant it. “But I tried going by his place and he’s not there. Do you know where I can find him?”
She nodded. “He likes to go to the pool hall with his friends.”
The pool hall that had once been converted into the Carpathians’ clubhouse, then burned, then been refurbished and reopened as a shiny new hangout spot for college kids.
“Awesome. Thank you. That’s a big help.”
Erin looked pleased. “What are you gonna do to Jesse?”
“Nothing too bad,” Aidan said, and gave her a wink.
She giggled.
“Erin, how’s the homework coming?” Sam asked, clearly trying to derail this line of conversation.
Erin got up from her chair and headed out of the room. “Working on it.”
Sam dumped a package of ground beef into the skillet and it landed with a hiss. “You aren’t actually going to do anything to Jesse, are you? I can’t stand the little shithead, but I don’t know if he deserves a beating.”
“I don’t care about Jesse,” he assured. “And I figure he’ll sing his lungs out the second I get hold of him.”
She snorted.
His business now conducted, there was nothing holding Aidan here. Except the way steam from the pan was curling the loose wisps of Sam’s braid. And the way his insides throbbed with warmth as he watched her work.
“What’re you making?” he asked, and saw a little tension steal across her shoulders. Helping out with Kev was one thing, but he guessed small talk made her nervous. It made him nervous.
“Tacos,” she replied. She attempted a weak smile. “It’s Tuesday, after all.”
“It smells good.”
“Thanks.”
A beat, then:
“Sam–”
“Aidan–”
They stopped and started at the same time, gazes meeting.
Aidan dipped his head. “Ladies first.”
She took a deep breath. “How are you holding up with all of this?” Her blue-green eyes were serious and sympathetic behind her glasses. “Are you okay?”
“Actually, yeah.” He gave her a grim smile. “I mean, I have no idea what I’m gonna do with a little girl. I don’t even know how to change a diaper, much less have a tea party. I’m terrified. And every time I think about Kev I wanna puke. And sitting here right now, looking at you, I miss you so much it hurts. It hurts bad, Sam. Because I wanna lay you over this table and tear your jeans off.”
Her eyes widened.
“And I want you to sleep beside me and tell me it’s all gonna work out. So I’m pretty fucked up,” he concluded. “But I’m okay, yeah. I can handle it.”
Then he turned it back on her. “How ‘bout you? You okay, baby?”
“Well.” She sniffed. “I can’t sleep. And I’m trying really hard not to cry right now. But yeah, I’m okay too.” She swallowed. “God, Aidan, I miss you.”
He stood, and his feet propelled him to the stove. She didn’t resist when he captured her face in both hands, cradling her gently. She shivered, the little ripples of movement telegraphing up his arms.
“I wanna give you your space,” he said, voice raw. “I know you need time to think, because I’m a lot to take on. Fucked up me and my fucked up baggage.”
“Don’t say that about yourself,” she whispered fiercely. “You’re not fucked up.”
He pressed on, determined now. “I have a baby coming, and I have a club, and a bad habit of doing stupid shit. You deserve better than that.”
Her eyes moved across his face, filling with moisture. Her lips trembled as she breathed through them.
“But I’ve gotta ask…” He didn’t finish; kissed her instead.
Her mouth was soft and sweet as always, lips supple beneath his tongue as he pressed for entry.
Her hands landed on his chest, fingers flexing, tips pressing against his pecs. She leaned into him, head tipping back as the kiss deepened.
He wanted inside her. That was his first, vivid thought, as he felt the shapes of her breasts through her sweater. He wanted to strip her down and take her up against the kitchen counter while her dinner burned beside them.
But that was the sort of thinking that had led him to so many mistakes. This wasn’t just about her body; he wanted inside her heart and mind, too, and that would require a grace he’d never possessed before.
With a groan of disappointment, he pulled back from her. Her lips were parted and glistening, her eyes half-lidded and hungry. He almost broke his own promise and dove back in headfirst. But he made himself reach to stroke her face.
“You’re the woman I’ve been needing my whole life,” he said, throat tight. “You’re my old lady. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you in my life.”
He kissed her again before she could respond, quickly, and then left.
~*~
As Erin predicted, Jesse was at the pool hall, and he was happy to cooperate in order to save face in front of his friends. As Aidan and Carter stood witness, he called Greg (whom he knew as G) and arranged a meeting at Hamilton House for two hours later.
“What are you gonna do?” Jesse asked as he pocketed his phone.
Aidan gave him a chilly smile. “None of your damn business.”
One hour and fifty-five minutes later, Aidan waited in the mildewed kitchen of Hamilton House, listening to rats scrabble overhead.
“Damn,” Carter muttered. “And I thought this place was creepy during a party.”
“Yeah.”
The moon was nearly full, but between the boarded-over windows and the thick overgrown magnolias outside, only the rare stray moonbeams slipped through the cracks to slant across the floor. It was a dark, haunted place tonight, full of whispers that had gotten caught in the cobwebs, air laced with damp smells and menace. It made Aidan think of the night Mason Stephens had brought his sister here and beat her into unconsciousness. A shudder moved through him, and he wondered if Carter was thinking about that night too.
The house vibrated, suddenly, shifting under the weight of a single step at the front door. “Yo, Jesse?” Greg called, voice echoing as he moved toward the ballroom.
Carter changed his voice, affecting irritation and boredom. “Back here, in the kitchen.”
Mumbled cursing. Sound of a trip and a struggle for balance. “Jesus, it’s dark as shit in here.” His breathing became audible as he passed through the threshold of the kitchen. “Turn on a damn light.”
“Okay,” Carter said. But he waited. And the steps drew closer, closer.
The light came on with a bright flare, a high-powered Energizer number that could have doubled as a weapon.
Greg brought an arm up to shield his eyes, and Aidan jumped on him, tackling him to the ground.
“Hey! What the–”
Greg was a small guy, but he was wiry and quick, and Aidan knew he had to make short work of this capture if he was going to pull it off. He flipped Greg to his stomach and managed to snag his wrists. He bucked and kicked and squirmed. Shit, Aidan was going to lose his grip…
Carter knelt beside him. “Here.” He produced a zip tie and cinched Greg’s wrists together, flashlight sitting on the floor and casting giant, spider-like shadows of Greg’s hands onto the far wall.
“What the fuck?” Greg hissed.
“That’s funny,” Aidan said. “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”
~*~
“Have you ever watched your mate Mercy do this?” Fox asked. He peeled another strip of duct tape off the roll and the sound was obscene as it cracked through the autumn night.
“No,” Aidan said, grimacing. “I don’t have the stomach for it.”
Fox lifted his brows, his expression mocking in the glow of the truck headlights. “Best get over that quick.”
Aidan took a deep breath and squared up his shoulders. “I can do the job. No matter what it takes.”
“Good.” Fox used the strip to further secure Greg’s arm to the chair they’d taped him to and then stepped back. “Here you go.”
“Right.”
Greg sat immobile, bound to the plastic lawn chair, mouth covered with tape, eyes darting between them. His nostrils flared as he looked up at Aidan, the fear in him obvious.
Aidan took another deep breath and asked himself the all important question: What Would Mercy Do?
Well, Mercy was a talker, friendly in his fury, and something about that strategy always got him results. That, or it was just because he was fucking huge and liked to use an ice pick.
Either way.
Aidan took a firm stance in front of Greg and ripped the duct tape from his mouth in one fast jerk that he hoped stung like hell. If Greg’s sharp hiss was anything to do by, mission accomplished.
“Okay, here’s how it’s gonna go,” Aidan said. “I’m not as patient as the guy who normally handles this kinda thing, and I don’t think it’s as fun as he does either. So. I ask you some questions, and you give me the answers. If you don’t, my friend here” – nod to Fox – “is gonna start driving roofing nails through your hands. Get it?”
The headlights provided them with a pool of cold light, but beyond, the cattle property was alive with night sounds and liquid shadows. The contrast turned Greg’s face to something pale and ghoulish. “You talk a better game since I was here last.” He tilted his head, an eloquent mention to their surroundings. “But talk is real cheap. And right now, we’ve got your friend.” He smiled, grimly. “You aren’t gonna do shit, Aidan.”
Well, wasn’t that the story of his life? He wasn’t gonna finish school, wasn’t gonna get the nod for VP, wasn’t gonna do as he was told, wasn’t gonna pull the trigger, wasn’t gonna step up, wasn’t gonna be a decent father, wasn’t gonna have an old lady, wasn’t gonna grow up.
Wasn’t gonna pull the trigger.
In the last few months, he’d learned a lot of important life lessons – specifically that there were things outside of his control.
This moment wasn’t one of them.
“Fox,” he said, surprised his voice didn’t shake. “Hammer and nail.”
Fox stepped up, ready to do the deed himself. “I got you, mate.”
“No,” Aidan said, firmly. “Give them to me.”
Fox gave him a doubtful look – as doubtful a look as a man allergic to facial expressions could deliver. Whatever he saw in Aidan’s gaze convinced him, though, and he passed the items into Aidan’s hands.
Hands that didn’t tremble as he drove the nail clean through the center of Greg’s hand with one hard blow from the hammer.
The scream cut a physical path through the night, primal and shrill. Aidan imagined it flaring red in the dark, to match the blood welling up around the nail head.
Greg sagged forward against his bonds, gasping, sobbing, moaning. This went on for a long time, until the man finally subsided into shivering deep breaths that whistled through his teeth.
“Stop underestimating me,” Aidan said. “You’re going to tell me everything I wanna know. Even if I have to pound it out of you one nail at a time.” He took a deep, steadying breath. “Ready? Let’s get started.”
~*~
Dismantling a man, that’s what Mercy had called it once. To torture him was to pick at his seams, take away his humanity piece-by-piece, until he was broken down to his most basic components: fear and love. At the heart of mankind, those were the two driving forces behind every decision. And when it came to torture, well…that just proved how much a man loved himself.
Aidan picked that first loose stone, pried at it, worked it loose, and at some point in the wee hours, Greg had fallen to bits. He told them everything they needed to know about Ellison, Fox taking hurried notes over at the truck. He told them things Aidan didn’t want to know, too: how crushing it had been to learn that the Dogs had used him and that he could never be a member; how his father had knocked him around as a kid; how girls scorned him.
Aidan went to the truck where Fox was folding his notes up neatly and sliding them into his pocket. “If he’s telling the truth,” the Englishman said, “then we’ve got exactly what we need.”
“And if he’s lying?”
A shrug. “There’s not much more we can do to make him sing.”
“Right.” Aidan closed his eyes a moment, felt for the first time how heavy with sleep the lids were. The ground tilted beneath his feet as if he was drunk, and he thought he might pass out.
“You want me to finish it off?” Fox asked, something like kindness in his voice.
Aidan shook his head – bad idea – and forced his eyes open again. “No. This is on me. I shoulda done it a long time ago.” He took his nine mil from his waistband and walked back to Greg.
Despite all that he’d endured, the guy’s head lifted, glassy eyes seeking Aidan’s gaze.
“I’ll give you credit,” Aidan said, quietly. “I didn’t think you’d hold out so long.”
No answer.
“Can I ask you one more thing?”
“I’m tied up, ain’t I?”
“Something personal,” Aidan amended. “Not part of the interrogation.”
“I already pissed myself.” There was still temper behind the words. “What the hell have I got to hide now?”
Aidan swallowed the rising lump in his throat. “Why did you come back to Knoxville? Why didn’t you just stay away?”
“I dunno,” Greg said. “Guess I just couldn’t help myself.”
Aidan nodded. Lifted the gun. “I’m sorry, Greg. Really I am.” He fired.
The shot seemed to echo, again and again, traveling across the tossing grasses in waves. Aidan turned away from the slumped form in the chair and set off at a fast walk, past Carter and Fox, away from the light of the truck. His hands curled into fists and the skin was tight with dried blood. His stomach heaved, and he just managed to make it into the shadows before he doubled over and threw up.
He retched for a long time afterward, eyes shut tight, breathing through his mouth in fitful gasps.
A hand landed on his shoulder, the touch radiating comfort. “That was good,” Fox said in his even, calming London accent. “I’m proud of you.”
He wasn’t proud of himself, though.
~*~
Sam knew sleep would evade her, so she didn’t even try. She sat up against her headboard in bed, laptop on her stomach, working on the novel she was writing for school. She’d begun a few weeks ago with the best of intentions: a contemporary, literary novel full of witticisms and post-modern observations. Instead, her imagination had taken hold and it was fast turning into a Gothic sob fest of a book.
When her phone rang, she was glad of the distraction. But then she caught the time on her bedside clock and fear spiked in the pit of her belly. It was almost three in the morning, which meant this wasn’t a social call.
The screen told her it was Aidan.
“Hello?” she said, trying not to sound as worried as she felt. He didn’t respond at first. “Aidan?”
He breathed across the phone, the sound like the rustling of leaves. “I wanna see you.” His voice was all wrong.
Sam sat up and put her laptop off onto the bed. “Where are you?” In her mind, she was already in her car and headed toward him. That voice…a shudder passed through her.
“I don’t want you on the road this late. I’ll come by.” Then: “Can I come by?”
Turning him away didn’t cross her mind. “Of course.”
She was waiting in the kitchen when she heard his bike pull up. She had the door open before he reached it, and he didn’t pause, didn’t give her any space or wait to judge her reaction. He came in from the cold night on a fast lunge, grabbed her up and clasped her tight to his chest. Her feet were lifted off the floor and he carried her back into the kitchen, heeled the door shut.
And then he just held her for long moments, arms tight as iron bands around her back. He was shivering.
Sam waited, hands clasped loosely to his shoulders, letting him work through it. “Do you want to tell me about it?” she asked.
He took a deep breath and let it out against her neck, breath warm, eliciting little tingles of excitement across her skin. “No.”
A chill moved through her – the good kind. She knew without question that she was at one of those on-the-brink moments. If she wanted to, she could step back, turn him gently away, and offer friendship. She could coax him to talk out his problems like a rational adult, provide suggestions. And then she could go back to bed, alone, stare at her computer screen until her eyes glazed over with tears.
But she knew this moment had the potential to go a very different way. And he’d told her he loved her. And his life was upside down. And there was a bloody gaping hole in her heart, one she’d ripped herself when she pushed him away.
Sam pulled back, just far enough to see his face, the total devastation in his dark eyes. A lump formed in her throat. “No more secrets,” she whispered. “That’s the only way we can do this. It has to be all or nothing, Aidan. Full bore, no matter how bad things get. I can’t live without you,” she admitted. “But I can’t live a lie, either.”
He nodded, face grave. Took a deep breath. “I killed a man tonight.”
“By…accident?”
“I shot him in the heart at point blank range. For Kev,” he added. “I had to go through him to get to Kev.”
Sam clutched his biceps and listened to the pounding of her heart, waiting for the revulsion to set it.
It didn’t.
She lifted her hands and pressed them to his face, the bristly planes of his cheeks. She held him still, searched his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, because clearly, it had devastated him.
His smile was grim and humorless. “My life’s not pretty. It’s never gonna be.”
“Nobody’s is.”
When he kissed her, she knew her fate was sealed: good or bad, through bullets or babies, she was with Aidan. She’d never really had a choice in the matter anyway.
Something wild came alive inside him; she felt it in the sudden grab of his hands, the harsh strike of his breath as he pulled back and then went for her mouth again, deeper, more demanding.
In a frantic struggle of arms, tongues, and shuffling feet, they moved into the dark living room, trailing clothes behind them one discarded item at a time.
They didn’t make it to the couch, but wound up naked on the rug.
Aidan pushed her knees up, covered her body with his, and entered on one sure thrust. They both gasped.
“God,” Sam whispered, spine arching away from the carpet.
He flexed his hips, pressing deep inside her, pinning her to the floor, filling her so completely.
She closed her eyes and held onto him with arms and legs as he sought a rhythm. Just before she shattered, he said, “I love you.”