Page 21

Chapter Twenty-One

Tynan

“ Y ou know you can stay at my cabin.”

My eyes popped open, the ceiling in the rec room coming into focus. I lay on the longest stretch of the couch, my head resting on a pillow that had grown weary of the weight. The fire I’d started crackled in the hearth, its low light dancing on the dark panels above me.

I turned to look at Harm, wincing as my neck cramped in response. That was what I got for sleeping on a decade-old leather couch for almost a week at my age.

Except I wasn’t sleeping. Not more than an hour or two at most. And definitely not this early in the night. I’d started the small fire at seven thirty and it hadn’t burned out yet, so it couldn’t even be nine.

“I’m fine.” I pushed up to sit and reached for the back of my neck, rubbing the tight muscle. If only some of my other tight muscles were as easily soothed.

“Are you?” My friend—boss—brother—looked concerned. For me.

Fuck.

I was the oldest. The stoic one. The rational one. Though we all had each other’s backs, I was the one who felt secretly responsible for the rest of them. Maybe because of my age. Or my experience. Or maybe, as time went on, because I figured I’d be the only one left here alone.

One by one, the group of us that stuck together, started this motorcycle garage and motorcycle club together, that lived together, was slowly dismantled as my brothers found love and a way back into the world from the battle-beaten, bullet-dredged bunker we thought we’d never escape.

All except me. And I was okay with that—being the one who didn’t make it. I should’ve been the one who didn’t make it. So, I’d gladly be the one left behind to hold down the fort.

Except now, Harm looked at me like something had changed. Something had changed—her. I shook off the thought as soon as it touched me, refusing to let it land.

“Yeah. Wound’s almost healed up. I’ll be right as rain in another couple days,” I replied and half-lifted my shirt, the red-puckered seam of skin looking better each day, the adhesive Rorik used peeling away as the skin fully closed.

“Wasn’t talking about your gut.” Harm dragged out a stool from the bar and took a seat. “Though it would probably heal quicker if you were getting a good night’s rest.”

I grunted and laid back down, linking my hands over my chest.

A good night’s rest had nothing to do with sleeping on the couch. Sleeping on the couch was my best attempt at a poor excuse because the truth was, even if I’d taken the bed in any of the other vacant cabins on the property, I still wouldn’t have slept.

Because of Sutton.

I’d hurt her. I’d demanded her vulnerability and then hurt her by telling her the truth about her father, but goddamn, there was no world in which I’d let things continue without her knowing it.

Without her knowing I was the reason for her loss. The one that set her scorpion free.

And now, I finally paid the price for my mistake all those years ago that cost Jon his life. I finally had the woman I wanted within reach, finally laid all I wanted as a choice for her to make, only for the truth to make her turn away.

For five days, I hadn’t felt the bite of her words or the fire of her determination or the heat of her touch. Five days, she’d avoided me, and I respected her choice and gave her her space.

But no amount of respect had been able to quash my hope—hope that she’d change her mine. So, like an almost-forty-year-old fool, I slept on the damn couch with the door open like a closed door was the only barrier stopping her from coming to me. From forgiving me. From letting me give her all the things she deserved.

Tonight, I’d even lit the fire like some kind of lure to tempt her to come in on her way back from her evening workout. Instead, I’d laid on the couch and listened to her stealth-like footfalls pass right by the door.

It was at that point I closed my eyes and began to wonder if, in an ironic turn of fate, the daughter of a man whose death I was responsible for would, in turn, be responsible for mine.

“Hard to rest when we’ve got a girl missing and a trifecta of criminals involved.” The Pakistani drug lords. The Wah Ching. And good old-fashion American corporate criminals.

“Or when you’re missing a girl and have a trifecta of pain plaguing you.”

“Trifecta of pain?”

“Mental. Emotional. Physical.”

I grunted, his words hitting that nail on its head. “I’m fine.”

“You know…I don’t think you’ve ever lied to me before.”

My eyes sprung open, the notion snapping the weak defense I was clinging to. There was no point in lying to him. Or to myself.

“I told her what happened to her father, Harm. My part in it,” I rumbled low. “She has every right to hate me for the loss I caused her, and I have zero right to ask her not to.”

“How many times are you going to fall on your mighty sword for Jon’s decision?”

Harm was the only one who knew exactly what happened on my last mission. The other guys knew Jon didn’t make it, but they didn’t know my part. Never seemed right to share it. Rhys and Dare were still reeling from Ryan’s death. So was Harm, but he was the only one who would understand the kind of responsibility I’d carried. And he was the only one who’d sat me down in this very room with a bottle of expensive whiskey and said we weren’t leaving until I told him the truth or the bottle finished.

Both things ended up happening.

“Only fell on it once,” I muttered. “Not the kind of thing that comes out easily.”

“Especially when you make no attempt to remove it.”

I let out a deep sigh. “What do you want me to do, Harm?” My voice cracked at the end, and I’d pretend it was just from exhaustion. “You can’t force forgiveness.”

“You’re not responsible for Jon’s death. Not only was it what he signed up for, it was his team. His mission. Ultimately, his call.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t shoulder some of the blame…or that she shouldn’t hate me for my part in it.”

“Does she hate you?” He paused, letting me think he was done before he delivered the final blow. “Or is she just doing what you want her to do?”

“What?” This time, I didn’t just sit up. I stood and faced him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You want to blame yourself, Ty. Tell me you didn’t tell her what happened to Jon and paint him the hero and you the villain?” He let out a sad mockery of a laugh. “Hell, you talk about forcing forgiveness, but knowing you, I bet you didn’t even apologize.”

“I—” I broke off, my strained mind picking through the conversation for the millionth time and realizing I couldn’t tell him he was wrong. Fuck. “I didn’t,” I admitted roughly, fresh pain splicing between my ribs. “But not because I’m not sorry. Jesus. I’m more fucking sorry than she’ll ever know.”

“There’s a big difference between not apologizing because you’re not sorry and not apologizing because you don’t think you deserve forgiveness,” Harm replied slowly, his firm gaze unwavering where it held mine. “And Sutton’s a sharp fucking girl. I’m pretty sure she picked up on which reason kept you from saying sorry.”

I took a slow breath, surprised I could fit any air through the tightness in my chest.

“You took the blame and then basically told her you didn’t want to be forgiven—that you wanted to continue to walk around with the damn sword in your chest forever.”

“Fuck.” I reached up and rubbed the back of my neck, feeling like a fucking fool. Not because I want this to change her decision about me—about us—but because she deserved a goddamn apology.

“You also deserve to be happy, Ty.”

I stilled, the conversation crossing beyond the bounds of forgiveness. My hand flexed and released at my side.

“Maybe,” I conceded and then met his eyes. “But do I deserve it with my best friend’s daughter?”

For better or worse, Harm didn’t have the opportunity to answer because Rob burst through the door, her hair in disarray and her face flushed.

“Do you know how to answer a phone?”

“Shit,” I cursed and reached in my pocket, finding it empty. Scowling, I felt along the couch cushions, finding my phone buried between the seat and the back. No wonder I hadn’t heard it.

On the screen were two missed calls from Creed.

My head snapped to her. “What happened?”

“He’ll be here in two. We have a location on Mara.”

Air whooshed from my lungs. The relief I felt was indescribable, knowing what this would mean to Sutton. And then I thought about what it would mean for me.

“Does Sutton?—”

“She just got out of the shower. She’s going to meet us in the office.”

I gritted my teeth and nodded. Sharing the shower bit wasn’t exactly necessary. Not when I continued to relive what happened the last time I was in that shower.

Rob disappeared, probably to pace my office until Creed got here, and left Harm and me alone again. I tried to follow her, but Harm stepped in my path, clearly not deterred by the interruption nor willing to let it stop him from making his point.

Maybe later, I’d be grateful for his stubbornness rather than the annoyance I felt now.

“In my experience, you deserve only what you’re willing to fight for,” he said, his arms banding over his chest. “Whether it’s your enemy’s daughter…or your best friend’s.”

I stiffened, feeling a sharp pain in my gut followed by something like hollowness. I didn’t respond because I couldn’t explain what I felt—what I thought. Something happened in the moment of silence that passed. Something I couldn’t fully process as I stood there with him. Something that remained indescribable as he let me pass and I walked to the office, and still when Rob asked if I was all right and then when Creed arrived.

Only when Sutton appeared in the doorway, her wet hair braided in a rope down her back, her tattoos on wild display underneath her cropped black tank, and her dark stare locked to mine did I realize what happened minutes earlier.

The change I’d felt wasn’t hollowness but the start of healing. A subconscious decision made in a split second to fight for her rather than my own guilt, and how could I fight for her when my only weapon was buried in the thick of my chest?

The change I’d felt was that sword finally being pulled free.

“You know where Mara is?” Sutton spoke first, a knot of irrational jealousy tightening my gut when her eyes were only on Creed.

Because he was the one with answers, I forced myself to remember.

Creed’s lip twitched. “I think so.” He pulled out his phone, the cell looking almost like a toy in his palm. “Carson is slick. Careful. He hasn’t been back to the White Pearl since he met with Kang in the alley, and I was almost to the point where I didn’t think there was any information I’d get from following his movements until this.”

He flipped his phone around, everyone crowding to see except me. I went to my computer and opened up a few settings.

“You can share it on the big screen, Creed,” I told him.

He made a low noise, and then the image appeared. It was a black, tinted luxury sedan parked out front of an apartment building. The license plate matched the one on the car Kang had gotten into with Carson after Sutton attacked him. There was an older Asian man in a suit talking through the cracked back window to the person in the car. Carson.

“Who is that man?” Sutton stepped closer to the screen.

Creed flipped to a second photo: a close-up of the man outside the car. Just above the collar of his jacket peeked out a tattoo reading 432.

“Shit,” Sutton swore.

“What does that mean?” I rumbled.

“Four-three-two is the number that signifies the Straw Sandal, or the liaison between the top players in the Wah Ching and to outside…associates,” Rob explained. “The building is also owned by the same corporation that owns the White Pearl.”

“These photos are from four days ago?—”

“Four days?” Sutton’s anger was instantly sparked. “Why did you wait?—”

“We can’t assume every meeting—every conversation has to do with Mara,” Rob chided, but even she had a hard time keeping her voice steady.

“But I did have a bad feeling when I took these photos,” Creed admitted.

“Which was why he called me.” Rob stepped forward almost like she was taking center stage. “Creed continued to keep tabs on Carson, but I decided to stake out the Straw Sandal.” She nodded, and Creed put up the next image on the screen; this photo was taken at night of the Straw Sandal escorting a seemingly drunk, scantily clad woman into the building.

“Another victim?”

The photo changed again; the same woman now clearly exited the building.

Not a victim. Just a hookup.

“For the last four nights, the Straw Sandal has brought a different woman to this building late at night, waited outside for a few hours, and then took her away.”

“I don’t understand what this has to do with Mara.” Sutton folded her arms, her frustration simmering so hot, all I wanted was to pull her into my arms and hold her steady. But I couldn’t. She wouldn’t even look at me, let alone accept any kind of comfort.

“The Straw Sandal is one of the highest-ranking members of the Wah Ching. Who would he be personally escorting women to?” Rob demanded of Sutton directly. “Not to some low-level soldier or someone outside the organization. He’d be bringing women to someone important. Someone who couldn’t leave because they had a job to do. Someone involved in something they don’t want people to have knowledge of.”

Sutton’s jaw went slack, understanding dawning. “You think another leader in the gang is in that building?”

Rob nodded. “The Red Pole—the Wah Ching’s top enforcer.” She explained her theory. “I think when Sutton went after Kang, Carson got spooked. A feeling that only got worse after you killed the assassins they sent to the house and then Creed went to the first place they’d held Mara. If I were in his shoes—answering to Uzair Shazad and in the public eye—I wouldn’t take any more chances. I’d demand from the Straw Sandal that only the very best of their men guard Mara and that her location be kept from everyone—even low-level soldiers in the gang.”

“So, the Straw Sandal enlists the Red Pole as Mara’s babysitter…”

“And what?” I rumbled. “Promises to bring him a different woman each night as a perk since he can’t leave the building?”

“Exactly,” Rob said without missing a beat.

God, I couldn’t wait to take all these fuckers down.

“The first two nights, I watched the building, but aside from delivery people, this is the only time the Straw Sandal appears. The third night, I followed his car when the woman was done, and he took her back to the White Pearl.”

“No surprise there,” I muttered.

“No,” Rob said. “And last night was the same. He’s picking up these women from the White Pearl, drunk and drugged, and bringing them to the Red Pole while he guards Mara.”

“And no sign of Kang?” I looked at Creed, assuming, if anything, that he would’ve encountered the man while following Carson.

“No.”

“They probably disposed of him,” Rob muttered. “He was a fucking liability.”

No one could find any reason to disagree with her. Kang was a loose cannon. Expendable. Especially after becoming Sutton’s target.

“So, what’s our plan? When do we leave to get Mara?”

My jaw tightened.

“I would’ve gone in for her, but it’s heavily guarded. I’m big but not stupid,” Creed grunted, and it took a good couple of seconds for the rest of us to realize the unemotional giant had attempted to make a joke.

“We have to assume there’s additional security inside the building. Probably keycard access up to the floor where Mara is being kept, which means our best chance is to intercept the Straw Sandal on his nightly…errand. We can take his credentials. I can pretend to be the woman. And hopefully, because of their own secrecy, it will only be one or two guards and the Red Pole that we’ll have to deal with once in the building.”

“So, tomorrow night?” The edge in Sutton’s voice was like a live wire ready to spark.

“That’s my plan,” Creed replied. “I’m going to map out some routes and weak points.”

“I’m going to follow up with my contacts to see if anyone can confirm that Mara is in that apartment building.”

“I’ll check in with Talon over at Armorous,” I added, drawing looks from both of them. “We’re talking about going after two of the top players in the local Triad. Not a smart idea to do that without some kind of backup or plan for the fallout.”

Rob nodded. “We can meet back here in the morning to review the final strategy and then prep for tomorrow night.”

Rob and Creed started to talk among themselves, but Sutton remained quiet. She didn’t even nod. I had to talk to her—to apologize. If all this came to an end tomorrow, I couldn’t let it end like this.

I had to take the sword pulled from my chest and lay it at her feet. Even if it changed nothing between us, she had to know that how I felt about her wouldn’t change.

“Sutton.” I went to her, my voice hoarse.

Her gaze flickered with an expression I recognized—one that gave me hope. The same one she wore when she handed me her vulnerability and begged me to take care of her. But just as quickly as my hope inflated, she pierced it by saying, “I need to talk to Rob. Alone.”

My jaw locked, but I didn’t protest.

I would’ve waited in the hallway, but Creed pulled me into a conversation, taking me with him into the garage to run through his initial plan for the rescue mission. By the time he was finished and I went back to the office, the door was open, but only Rob remained inside, texting on her phone.

“Where’s Sutton?”

She looked up. “Back at her—your cabin.”

“What did she want to talk to you about?”

All it took was one look to give me the answer: to be involved.

“Dammit.” My chest exploded with anger. “You know that’s impossible. How fucking dangerous—” I broke off, unable to even verbalize the thought.

What was she thinking?

These were the same people who’d sent assassins after her. They knew who she was. What she looked like. The second she was involved, she not only risked us getting to Mara, but her own safety in the process.

“I can’t stop her, Tynan,” Rob cautioned.

“Well, I will,” I replied and left the room, heading straight for the elevator.

I would stop her. I would stop this reckless risk she insisted on taking because she was mine, even when she wasn’t. Even if it meant she hated me for the rest of her life, as long as I gave her a life to do it, it would be worth the price of her hatred. And of breaking my own heart.