Page 104 of The Saviors: Part One

“Axel, this isn’t all on you.”

“We’ll agree to disagree on that. All I’m saying is I’m done with the bullshit. You’re my best goddamn friend, and somewhere along the way, we lost that. We’ll stop for breakfast on the way to Chelsea’s.”

I leave the kitchen before he has a chance to say anything. Feelings are not something I like talking about, but for the last forty-eight hours, that’s all I’ve done.

I think Nolan broke me.

* * *

After breakfast,we finally pull up to Chelsea’s gate. The two big ass security guards who were there the night of the meeting open the gate for us, but they don’t look happy to see us here. They seem to be doing their jobs right, so I don’t give a fuck what they think about me.

I drive to the garage door, and Sean pops his head out the side door. He leads us into the house and to an office in the back hallway. Chelsea is sitting in front of a group of monitors, typing away. We say our hellos and get seated around the table. Nolan gets his laptop set up because he already knows he’ll need it.

“So, I got curious and started digging into any Lancasters I’ve done, and I came up with two more names. Clair and Jonathon. All three were done within the same time frame, but someone different came every time to pick them up,” Chelsea says.

Nolan starts typing, searching for those names. “I’m setting it to find anyone deceased by that name because I found a Drew Lancaster that was rich as fuck, and I think that’s whose identity Charlie is trying to claim.”

“That would make sense,” Sean agrees. “Easy money.”

“The money for all those weapons came from somewhere,” Cole adds.

“Do you have a video of the people who picked up the identities for Clair and Jonathon?” I ask Chelsea. She clicks through files, and two nondescript women fill the screen. “He’s using women who don’t stand out.”

“Something is telling me he’s terminating them as soon as they return, too,” Kai says. “There is no way he would keep anyone around that knew that much.”

I nod in agreement. “Nolan, can you look for any bodies found that match that basic description?”

“He wouldn’t be that sloppy,” Chelsea disagrees. “That’s not how the Saviors roll. He might not be a part of it anymore, but that type of training is ingrained.” Her eyes widen. “Sorry, this is your show.”

I shake my head with a smile. “What would you do?”

“Missing persons. He likely picked people who wouldn’t be missed, but just on the off chance he did, someone could have reported them missing.”

“I like that idea. Nolan, run them both just in case.” I see the surprise written all over everyone’s faces.

“Are you feeling okay?” Sean asks. “Do you have a fever? Bend over and let me check.”

“He likes stuff up his ass,” Cole laughs.

“He hasn’t let me do that yet,” Nolan answers, still looking at his computer, and then his head snaps up after he realizes what he said. His face blooms with color. “Shit. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

Chelsea’s biting her lip to keep from laughing then makes the mistake of looking at me, who’s trying just as hard to keep the laughter in. We both lose it at the same time, and Nolan’s face gets even redder. “It’s okay,” I assure him in between chuckles. “We’ll get there.” I wink at him, and his eyes widen.

“I’m going to be thinking about that for the rest of the day,” Nolan mutters.

“Don’t let us stop you,” Sean says, sweeping his arm out. “The room is yours.”

“Sean,” Chelsea giggles. “Stop. You’re embarrassing him even more.” She rubs her hand down Nolan’s cheek, and something about that gesture causes my heart rate to spike. And not in a bad way. “I’m just glad someone else still blushes.”

Nolan is completely speechless, just staring at her.Trust me, Naughty boy; I know what you’re feeling. One touch can make all the bad shit disappear.

We spend the rest of the morning talking, planning, and laughing. It feels nice to have all my favorite people in the same room. Chelsea fits in beautifully with us, which I knew she would. We split at lunch to do different things, and I ask Sean where the bathroom is. He points down the hallway, and I pop open the door only to find Chelsea in nothing but a bra.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” I go to back out of the room when what is on her back catches my eye. I shut the door but keep my eyes on it. “What the fuck is that?”

“I spilled something on my shirt—”

“Not that,” I say, trying to keep the anger out of my voice. “Did he do that?”