Page 40

Chapter 14
Anita
––––––––
The area where Ronan, Bedford, and Boone sit isn't dimmed like when we were traveling to London. It's bold and bright, giving a perspicuity view of the area. I find a seat beside Mal and Bedford, who are wearing headphones. This morning, I thanked him for what he did for us at Victor’s, and for Mal, but he brushed it off like it meant nothing, when in reality, it means everything. He saved a life even when his job is tech.
I sit facing Ronan, and the tingles skate all over my body once more. Every single thing that happened between us pops into my head like a cinema. His stare is hard on me, like he’s angry. Of course, he’s angry. This is a serious situation with the kids. It’s not like he heard Mal and I speaking about our fuckathon.
He didn't hear you.
Why does it matter, anyway? We aren't a couple.
I swallow, crossing my legs. He roams his eyes up my legs until he meets my face with a clenched jaw and lustful gaze.
I send a warning with my eyes for him to play fair and be professional.Be a good soldier.
He tips a brow as if he’s saying back, ‘and if I don’t?’ Heat rises to my face instantly, like I’m being toasted under the sun.
I rub my sweaty palms against my black jeans, hoping to take some of the secretion away. Shit, I’m going to need more than that to cool off.
Ignoring him is best because it only makes me hotter and more nervous. I brought my cinnamon roll with me, but I’m no longer hungry. I scratch behind my ear and look away.
Ronan leans forwards, placing his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands together.
“It’s important that everyone is up to speed on what’s going on.” Before he finishes, he snaps his fingers at Bedford with a stoic expression. Bedford doesn’t hear him, but he sees the action.
He pushes down the headphones, giving a sheepish chuckle. “Whoops, my bad.”
Ronan doesn’t give him a dry look like usual, he only nods with a causal expression. Then he places a circular device in the middle of the table. He presses the blue button, and a holographic picture displays.
It’s the man from yesterday. Jax.
“This asshole,” Mal sneers, leaning forward in her seat.
“We didn’t have much time to discuss last night's shit storm.” Ronan goes into his black wool coat, and he pulls out a firm postcard. The card from the night we went into that abandoned building. Everyone looks at the postcard, confused.
“He’s the one who left this on that chair.” Ronan's finger jams down on the card stock. “Last night, after he killed his men, he struck a deal.”
“A deal?” Mal asks in disbelief.
“Yes. A deal. He helps us retrieve the kids. And we help him get his daughter back.”
Ronan's fingers the hologram, swiping it to the side. Landing on a young girl with long puffy pigtails. The sense of fire burning in my blood with a mixture of melancholy washes over me.
There’s nothing more evil than taking innocent people and dumping them into a world of cruelty, rapists, and murderers with sick intentions. It’s barbaric.
Mal’s face misconstrues into a twist, ready to call bullshit.
“Gabrielle Evans was fourteen years old. She’s now seventeen,” he says with distaste.
“Fuck,” Mal huffs out as she slumps back into her seat.
He flexes his hand; the knuckles cracking as he continues. “But it's imperative that we focus on what’s taking place now. He’s going to help us get to the kidnapped kids before any money wire takes place. Not one cent will sit in that fucker’s account.” He glances around at everyone; his eyes are like pools of blood and fire ready to burn everything down.