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Chapter Fourteen

Sutton

T he door clicked like a gun to my head, and I realized I’d taken Tynan’s jacket with me. I wanted to clean it. To fix it. It might be the only thing that had more of his blood on it than me. But also, I couldn’t seem to let it go. I wanted— needed— the scent of him. I needed to hold on to the worn leather, saturated with his rich, spiced scent and soaked in his copper blood, and convince myself that he was going to be okay.

I clutched it tight to my chest, looking like some kind of psychopath, the cloth seeping more blood onto my skin. My eyes shut, and my mind replayed that final moment when I finally picked the lock on the bedroom door and shoved inside, only to find myself squarely in the path of the assassin’s blade.

If not for Tynan.

He stood like my shield, and then I saw the gun. I’d fired in time to save his life but not spare him from pain.

My eyes snapped open, rage sharpening my senses.

I had to stay focused. I had to shower. Change. Figure out who those men were, how they found me, and what they had to do with Mara.

“Sutton.”

I turned. Robyn approached from the opposite end of the underground hallway, the light catching on the cinnamon shades of her hair.

“What are you doing?”

I lowered the jacket to my side as she got closer and answered carefully, “I need to shower and change before he wakes up.”

There was something about Robyn that I simultaneously recognized but didn’t like. Maybe it was like that old saying: the faults you found in others were the ones you hated about yourself.

I hated that Robyn looked like she knew more than she was letting on. I hated that she seemed like she had secrets she was unwilling to share. I hate that I looked at her the way Tynan had probably looked at me.

“Come with me,” she said and started to turn back the way she’d come. When I didn’t follow, she stopped and scrutinized me. “Where were you planning on showering?”

“At the gym?” I said even though I couldn’t recall if there was even a shower there or not.

Her smile gave me my answer.

“You can shower at my cabin.” Her eyes raked over me. “And borrow some of my clothes.”

My lips parted; it hadn’t even occurred to me what I’d change into after I showered.

“And I’ll show you how to get blood out of Ty’s jacket.”

That promise erased all the doubt from my mind. My feet carried me toward her without another thought.

“What is this place?” I asked when we reached one of the two doors at the farthest end of the hall.

“The garage?” she asked like she knew it wasn’t what I was talking about.

“No. This.”

She stared at me for an extra second and then keyed in her code to open the door.

Unlike Tynan’s, the hallway behind her door stretched seemingly endless.

“This is the living quarters for the Vigilantes.”

Like the patch on his jacket?

We finally reached the end of the hall and the staircase that brought us back above ground and into her living room.

The hallway wasn’t the only thing different. Robyn’s cabin was filled with light. She led me through the kitchen, living room, bedroom, and into the bathroom. Each room faced the woods, with floor-to-ceiling windows spanning the entire back wall of the structure.

But light was about the only thing it was filled with.

“This is your cabin?”

She made a low hum.

“You don’t stay here much.”

There were no photographs. No plants. No decor. There was furniture, but the neutral ensembles looked like they’d been picked out by a real estate agent to stage the space rather than be lived on.

“Towel. Washcloth.” She set both on a small table just outside the glass shower and then faced me and held out her hand. “Jacket?”

I tensed.

“He’s going to be fine, Sutton.”

I gritted my teeth and glared at her, hating that she could read me so easily.

“Yeah. I know.” I let go of the leather like it didn’t feel like I was handing over one of my own limbs.

She left me alone then, closing the door behind her.

In another world, the shower would’ve felt luxurious, but not when the streams of water running down the drain were stained pink with blood. I washed and scrubbed like I was still searching for a wound on myself to explain the amount of blood, but in the end, I only rubbed my skin raw, finding nothing but reminders that I was responsible for almost getting Tynan killed.

I would find out who’d done this, and I would make them pay.

When the water ran clear, I shut off the faucet and grabbed my towel, noticing that at some point, Robyn had slid a small stack of clothes through the bathroom door for me.

I dried and easily slipped on the black leggings and black tee, toweling my hair until it was damp.

I needed to fix this. I needed to find that user—the man who was responsible. For Mara. For Tynan. If I could find my phone, I could get back on the app and message him. Make some kind of deal.

I tossed the towel onto the rack and strode into the bedroom.

My phone had to be somewhere in the garage, and I was going to find it.

I made it all the way to the kitchen before finding Robyn. She had Tynan’s jacket stretched across the counter like it was completely normal to clean bloody clothes on her kitchen island.

“Grab a cloth.” There was one waiting for me, and she had a dish on the counter with some concoction of cleaner she mixed up.

Wordlessly, I took the second cloth, dabbed it in the bowl, and set to work on a different spot.

The gray quickly stained with pink as it pulled up the blood from the leather.

“What are the Vigilantes?” I probed, working my way around the edge of the emblem.

“Motorcycle club.” She repeated my answer from before, going to the sink and rinsing out her cloth.

“Tynan’s not part of a motorcycle club.” At least not any of the ones famous for lawlessness.

I worked carefully over the stitched patch on the sleeve, the threads half white and half deep red, and waited for her to answer.

“You sound so sure.”

“He’d never do something criminal. It’s not who he is, and he’d never do something that went against his moral compass.” Even if he wanted to. Only after the words were out did I feel like a fool for arguing with a woman who arguably knew Tynan better than I did; hell, they lived at the same…compound.

“No, he wouldn’t.” I heard her small smile even though I didn’t look up to see it. “The Vigilantes are a motorcycle club, but their prey…are the predators in the criminal world.”

Vigilantes. It was even in the name.

“That sounds like something he would do.”

She made a sound of agreement. “Sometimes, the law isn’t enough to mete out justice.” She returned to her corner of the jacket.

“No, sometimes it’s not.” I pulled more of the jacket toward me. “And you’re one, too?”

“More and less,” she replied, turning the phrase to suit her as her eyes found mine. “Then again, don’t we all look to right the wrongs done to us?”

As she spoke, her hand went to the necklace around her throat. To be honest, I hadn’t noticed it before, the chain was so fine, and the pendant on the end of it, well, it wasn’t a pendant. It was a ring. A thin, simple gold band that rested hidden in her décolletage until she threaded it out and spun the band between her fingers.

“Apparently Tynan likes to right the wrongs done to others more than himself,” I muttered.

“Well, he’s always been the most self-sacrificing.”

“It’s annoying,” I said without thinking, realizing how disingenuous I sounded, but what was I supposed to say—to think?

The man had almost bled out today because he was protecting me from a problem that wasn’t his.

“In my experience, men are rarely what they present themselves to be.” She let the ring fall from her fingertips, and before I could reply, added with a tone that felt too flippant, “For better…or for worse.”

I went to the sink and wrung out the cloth. That was the problem with Tynan. Every other man had exceeded my expectations for the worse. And then Tynan had swooped in for the better.

It was more than annoying. It was untenable. The guilt I felt—the wanting I felt—it would only get worse when he found out the truth.

“You said you were taking care of the bodies at the house?” I asked over my shoulder, forcing my voice to stay steady.

If they called the police…

“Not me personally, but some of the other guys, along with some former military friends who work for another local private security firm.” She waited until I was dipping my cloth back in the detergent before she answered and then clarified like she knew why I’d asked. “No police.”

I turned the sleeve of the jacket, noting how the worn leather had stretched and creased where it had fit over Tynan’s bicep, the strength of which I’d experienced firsthand when he’d held me down on the bed.

“Do you know the men who did this?”

I stilled, the bloodstains blurring in my vision. “No.”

“But you have an idea.”

My first instinct was to lie. To keep secrets. To keep my business my own. But she was too like me , and it made me both comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time.

“I’m assuming they were members of the Wah Ching.”

Both of her brows rose. “And why would you assume that?”

I went to the sink and rinsed my cloth, my breaths coming in short bursts. What was I doing, trusting her? Telling her? I needed to fix this on my own. I just needed my phone. Needed to figure out a way to find that user.

But then I found myself back over the leather jacket of the man who’d protected me with his life, and it was like I was cleaning the blood from his very skin and his chivalrous armor.

Even angry, he hadn’t hesitated to be my gladiator. To fight for me. To die for me.

“Because Tynan and his friend, Creed, were helping me look for my missing friend, and the Wah Ching might be involved.”

Rob folded her arms. “I see. And who is your friend?”

“Her name is Mara Chen.”

This time, it was her body that stilled.

“What happened to her?”

I pressed the cloth into the leather, watching the liquid ooze pink around my fingers.

“She disappeared. We had a falling out, and when I went to talk to her, she was gone.”

“And how does that mean the Wah Ching is involved?”

“And the guy she was seeing—the last person to see her the night she disappeared—he’s a Blue Lantern in the organization.”

She nodded with familiarity. “So, they tried to kill you because you’re looking for her?”

“No, I think they tried to kill me because I found out how she was taken.”

Robyn’s brow lifted, a sign of surprise and appreciation.

“I confronted the guy she was seeing, Jack Kang, and he confessed that he had her sign up for an exclusive cam site and someone on the site wanted more. He’d brought her to the White Pearl, and they took her.” I scrubbed harder at the leather. “He gave me a card for the site, so I signed up to try and find a lead, and this one user messaged me. He made a comment about the wasp tattoo”—like the one she had—“and I realized he knew Mara, but before I could get more, Tynan…”

My fist closed around the cloth, sending liquid oozing through my fingers, and the subtle scent of detergent leaked into my nostrils.

“I think we got most of it.” A dry white towel landed in front of me. “We’ll dry and then put some cornstarch on it overnight.”

How many times do you clean blood out of leather before you have it down to a science? I wondered and went back to the sink to drain the cloth and wash my hands one final time.

“You know, I admired that wasp tattoo the first time I saw it.”

My head tipped. Was she talking about earlier?

“And the first time I saw it, I was told that if I thought the wasp was impressive, I should meet the girl with the scorpion tattoo.”

My muscles jerked like a hot whip had been snapped along my back. I lifted my head and faced her, unable—unsure if I could believe what I was hearing.

“You…” I shook my head. “You met Mara?”

Robyn wrung out her cloth and then grabbed a kitchen towel to wipe the last of the bloodied water from her hands.

“I more than met her, Sutton. She was working for me.”