Page 124
Story: Salvaged Hearts
“Arson, sir. The fire was put out, but the exterior was vandalized before responders got there.”
“Was anyone inside?” I asked mechanically, trying to inventory who could’ve been harmed or targeted on a Saturday.
“Just the cleaning crew and weekend security. That’s who called it in and scared them off.”
“Arson?” Alice’s voice cracked.
“They were just passing by—nothing unusual on the cameras until they lunged, broke the downstairs windows, and tossed in Molotov cocktails,” Mike supplied.
“Was anything taken?” Alice asked, that calculating cunning in the gray-blues I loved so much.
“No, Mrs. Hart. One of them managed to get inside, but security responded too quickly for it to be effective.”
“Too sloppy,” I pointed out as my mind rushed through the meaning of something so abrupt. “Just sending a message.” It was pretty damn clear.Back. Off.I cracked my knuckles, followed by my aching neck.
Jax nodded, but his eyes flicked up as someone approached. I expected one of my in-laws but found Royce’s light blue eyes heavy with concern. “You sure everything’s okay, Greyson?”
“Just an incident at the office,” I said quickly. “Security is just bringing us up to speed.”
He turned over a shoulder toward where Miranda was chatting away with an enthusiastic Hadlee. “You’d tell me, if I needed to be worried, right?” He asked as he came back to face me, tone heavy.
I nodded before reassuring, “All is well, Ashcroft. Enjoy the party.”
“Tell me if you need anything. There’s been a lot going on, and I’m happy to lend a hand or my security if you need reinforcements,” he offered, holding my gaze for a beat before heading back to his wife. Something heavy settled in my gut as I watched him cross the space. But my brain couldn’t put it together before Luke was talking.
“One suspect in custody, and we’re going to question him down at the station. I could bring you in with me.”
Unease settled in my spine. God damn my uncle. Suddenly, my paranoia was flaring, distorting my reality as everyone became suspect. Reggie. Royce. Luke. Even Jax suddenly set my nerves bristling.
I needed air. “Take Jax,” I instructed before stepping between them and outside into the gray of a looming storm. Jax at least could handle himself.
It wasn’t him. If we had a mole, it wasn’t Jackson. We’d survived too much. Been beside each other for too many damn years. What the fuck would he even gain?Thunderstrikewas his damn idea.
Resolved that he wouldn’t turn his back on us, I nodded to myself. He’d note all the same information I would if I went in person. It was my old Captain to follow me outside, however.
“They’re coming for us, Grey. Two of our guys were involved inaccidentsthis morning. Brakes went out on one vehicle. The steering on another.”
“Both okay?”
“Yeah, gratefully. But…there’s something else you should know. Mike found this, pinned to the door like last time.”
Turning to see whatever new horror his words promised, ice crept into my veins. The singed paper in his leather-gloved hand was some fucked up movie poster of a woman on her knees in chains. Only…it was Alice’s face hastily taped over the photograph. Judging by the gaping hole through the torso, they’d stuck it to the door with a knife again. When he flipped it over between his fingers, however, it was a very real photo of my wife.
In a gold gown stained red, looking over her shoulder in the Gilbert’s damn hallway outside that office door. Eyes meeting Jax’s fierce navy blue, I nodded before glancing around to ensure we were alone.
“Have you and Max found anything to link my uncle to this?” The grim resignation in Jax’s eyes was emphasized by how hard his jaw flexed before he spoke.
“Nah, man. He looks clean.”
Nodding as I chewed that over, I declared, “I want Neal Gilbert in a grave or a cell by tomorrow morning. Don’t care how it happens. Find me a team that won’t ask questions.”
26
In a Grave Or In a Cell
JACKSON
There is nothing quite like the eerie silence in the heartbeat before you give a command to launch an op. To the predatory focus of my mind evaluating the dozen screens on the wall of the command center.
“Was anyone inside?” I asked mechanically, trying to inventory who could’ve been harmed or targeted on a Saturday.
“Just the cleaning crew and weekend security. That’s who called it in and scared them off.”
“Arson?” Alice’s voice cracked.
“They were just passing by—nothing unusual on the cameras until they lunged, broke the downstairs windows, and tossed in Molotov cocktails,” Mike supplied.
“Was anything taken?” Alice asked, that calculating cunning in the gray-blues I loved so much.
“No, Mrs. Hart. One of them managed to get inside, but security responded too quickly for it to be effective.”
“Too sloppy,” I pointed out as my mind rushed through the meaning of something so abrupt. “Just sending a message.” It was pretty damn clear.Back. Off.I cracked my knuckles, followed by my aching neck.
Jax nodded, but his eyes flicked up as someone approached. I expected one of my in-laws but found Royce’s light blue eyes heavy with concern. “You sure everything’s okay, Greyson?”
“Just an incident at the office,” I said quickly. “Security is just bringing us up to speed.”
He turned over a shoulder toward where Miranda was chatting away with an enthusiastic Hadlee. “You’d tell me, if I needed to be worried, right?” He asked as he came back to face me, tone heavy.
I nodded before reassuring, “All is well, Ashcroft. Enjoy the party.”
“Tell me if you need anything. There’s been a lot going on, and I’m happy to lend a hand or my security if you need reinforcements,” he offered, holding my gaze for a beat before heading back to his wife. Something heavy settled in my gut as I watched him cross the space. But my brain couldn’t put it together before Luke was talking.
“One suspect in custody, and we’re going to question him down at the station. I could bring you in with me.”
Unease settled in my spine. God damn my uncle. Suddenly, my paranoia was flaring, distorting my reality as everyone became suspect. Reggie. Royce. Luke. Even Jax suddenly set my nerves bristling.
I needed air. “Take Jax,” I instructed before stepping between them and outside into the gray of a looming storm. Jax at least could handle himself.
It wasn’t him. If we had a mole, it wasn’t Jackson. We’d survived too much. Been beside each other for too many damn years. What the fuck would he even gain?Thunderstrikewas his damn idea.
Resolved that he wouldn’t turn his back on us, I nodded to myself. He’d note all the same information I would if I went in person. It was my old Captain to follow me outside, however.
“They’re coming for us, Grey. Two of our guys were involved inaccidentsthis morning. Brakes went out on one vehicle. The steering on another.”
“Both okay?”
“Yeah, gratefully. But…there’s something else you should know. Mike found this, pinned to the door like last time.”
Turning to see whatever new horror his words promised, ice crept into my veins. The singed paper in his leather-gloved hand was some fucked up movie poster of a woman on her knees in chains. Only…it was Alice’s face hastily taped over the photograph. Judging by the gaping hole through the torso, they’d stuck it to the door with a knife again. When he flipped it over between his fingers, however, it was a very real photo of my wife.
In a gold gown stained red, looking over her shoulder in the Gilbert’s damn hallway outside that office door. Eyes meeting Jax’s fierce navy blue, I nodded before glancing around to ensure we were alone.
“Have you and Max found anything to link my uncle to this?” The grim resignation in Jax’s eyes was emphasized by how hard his jaw flexed before he spoke.
“Nah, man. He looks clean.”
Nodding as I chewed that over, I declared, “I want Neal Gilbert in a grave or a cell by tomorrow morning. Don’t care how it happens. Find me a team that won’t ask questions.”
26
In a Grave Or In a Cell
JACKSON
There is nothing quite like the eerie silence in the heartbeat before you give a command to launch an op. To the predatory focus of my mind evaluating the dozen screens on the wall of the command center.
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