15. Anders

Chapter fifteen

Anders

T he last person I wanted to see today sure seemed hellbent on breaking down my door. I slammed my book shut and strode toward it, swinging it open, and glaring at Erik. “What the fuck do you want, King? My presence is not required until tomorrow,” I snapped at him. The look he gave me was less angry than I’d expected. In fact, it looked more like… fear.

“We have to go,” he replied quickly, grabbing my uninjured arm and dragging me out of the room. I jerked out of his hold, and he continued down the stairs, meaning I had to follow if I wanted answers.

“Where are the others?” I demanded, catching up to him at the bottom of the stairs. He pulled out his gun and checked that it was loaded as he headed for the garage door, and a sour feeling filled my gut. “What happened, King? Where are they?” I finally had enough and grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around. “Erik, fucking answer me!”

“They went to the beach to surf, all three of them. Someone put a bomb in the Jeep,” Erik explained, his voice hoarse as he broke away and continued out to the SUV. I beat him to the driver’s door and climbed inside, because it would be a frosty day in hell when I’d let that idiot drive me anywhere. My heart was pounding in my chest, and my hands slipped on the steering wheel as a cold sweat crept over my body.

“Are they alive?” I rasped, slamming into reverse and nearly clipping one of the men patrolling around our house as I sped out of the garage. Gravel kicked up as I turned sharply and drove toward the gate.

“Jesse saw it in time; they weren’t in the car when it blew,” Erik replied, and I felt my chest unclench just a little bit, my foot on the gas as I sped toward the main road.

“Are they at the beach still?” I asked, a million other questions waiting their turn.

“They hid out with Trevor, and Sparrow got there first. She’s taking them to the tavern,” Erik told me. I turned right at the corner and floored it, the engine making unhappy sounds as I accelerated down the street. So, at least one of them got hurt, that was why they were going to see Wren. Who was it then? Not Grace, they would’ve gotten her away from it first. Levy would obviously throw himself in the way to protect her, and Jesse… he was close enough to find it, so he was close enough to get hurt…

“Why did you let them leave?” I snarled at Erik, my fingers gripping the steering wheel as I swerved around an idiot hatchback. Erik scoffed at me, and I glanced over to glare at him.

“They aren’t prisoners, Anders. None of us are. And no one expected Doug to use a fucking car bomb, not when Grace was around,” he muttered, and I rolled my eyes .

“Jesse goes there all the time. His Jeep is bright fucking orange. They probably didn’t even see Grace and Levy, they were just trying to kill him,” I snapped back. Sometimes I thought it was only his luck that had gotten him this far, because it sure as shit wasn’t his brain.

I jerked the steering wheel roughly as I turned down the side road that led to Sparrow’s tavern. Her crew was out in full force today, bikers wearing her patch littered the street, lounging against their bikes and eyeing us as we drove past. Erik sent her a text to let her know we were close, so nobody tried to stop us when we pulled into the parking lot and came to an abrupt stop outside the door.

I was out of the car and at the door before Erik had even set foot on the ground. A large and immensely hairy fellow greeted me with a scowl, barring me from entering.

“Get the fuck out of my way, I’m one of King’s men,” I snapped, and he crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to budge.

“Roe, you expecting a math tutor?” he hollered over his shoulder, and I wrenched my driving glasses off my face, trying not to crush them as I shoved them in my pocket.

“Anders, calm down before someone else shoots you,” Erik bit out, joining me finally. Scruffy seemed to recognize him at least, and stepped aside, smirking as I glared at him.

“Back here, babe,” Roe called out, and we followed her voice toward the storage room. My gut twisted as we walked in and saw Levy face down on the table, his back a motley of burns and cuts.

I crouched beside him, my hand dropping to his hair as the air rushed out of my lungs. He twisted to look at me, wincing as it shifted the skin on his shoulders, a soft groan slipping out. Grace was sitting on the nearby couch, and Jesse was stretched across it, his bandaged head resting in her lap, facing away from us.

“Kitten, are you hurt?” I asked, quickly scanning her for injuries. She shook her head, and I could tell she’d been crying.

“No, Levy was behind me, so he got the brunt of it,” she murmured, swiping her hair out of her face. “Then a shop window blew out—that’s what caught Jesse in the face.”

Erik swore softly and moved over to the couch, stroking Jesse’s hair with a tenderness that made my stomach clench. My gaze dropped to Levy, watching Wren try to clean a particularly deep gash and prepare to suture it. Every time she lifted her hand from it, more blood pooled and spilled down his back. I pressed my hand close to the wound, and the blood slowed as I concentrated on the source of the bleed, willing it to seal closed. The effort left me winded, but Wren sighed in relief and grabbed her suture kit off the table next to her, preparing the needle. The first touch of the needle to his skin had Levy’s hands clenching on the edge of the table, and I glared at Wren.

“Don’t you have anything for the pain?” I demanded, and she shot me an incredulous look.

“Of course I offered him something, he said no,” Wren muttered, shaking her head as she pushed the needle back in, moving quickly and efficiently.

“No pain meds, really?” I growled, stroking Levy’s hair as he twitched under my hand.

“Gotta stay sharp, so I don’t… fade,” he gritted out, and I swore under my breath, resting my hand on his neck as he groaned low in his throat. I didn’t ask permission, and that was probably rude, but I focused on the blood flow to his brain, reducing it just enough to get him to lose consciousness. It wouldn’t stop the pain, but at least he wouldn’t be awake for most of it. Levy went slack on the table, and I stood up, the world tilting ever-so-slightly as my own blood rushed out of my head. A rough hand caught me, and I jerked away, glaring up at the large bearded man from earlier.

“One of the Boogeyman’s crew men was spotted at the pier, but he slipped away before we could catch him,” he announced, and Sparrow snarled.

“We shouldn’t go home tonight,” Erik muttered. “Not if Doug has escalated to blowing shit up.” He clenched his fists and started to pace, which was not very effective in a room this cramped and full of people. “We’ll find a hotel and camp out until we get a plan in place.”

“We can’t go to a hotel right now, not with Jesse and Levy full of fucking holes,” I snapped, running a hand through my hair. “We’ll draw too much attention, and we can’t secure a public space.”

“The safehouse then,” Erik suggested, and I rolled my eyes.

“No, that’s for shit really hitting the fan and us getting separated. Plus, it doesn’t have supplies to keep us going for more than a day—two, at most. It’s a relay station, not a fortification,” I muttered. Erik stopped right in front of me, his hands loose at his sides even though I could feel the anger rolling off of him.

“What then, Anders? What’s your brilliant goddamn solution to this? We have two men down, a crazy fuck gunning for us, and our crew is scattered across the city, fighting ambushes from every direction!” he exclaimed, and Grace flinched in her seat, her eyes wide and desperate .

I had to do something, I had to fix this somehow. I ran through the possible options again and again, each one worse than the next. The only option left that had any chance of working was…

Unthinkable.

“Fuck…” I muttered, shaking my head. “Fuck!” I shoved past the bearded idiot still looming in the doorway and walked out into the main room. There were several bikers milling around, and they all turned to glare at me when I stormed in itching for a fight.

“Anders,” Erik warned, catching me by the arm. “We can figure out something else.”

Oh, so he’d come to the same conclusion I had then.

“This is the only viable plan,” I snapped, pulling away from him. “We’ll go there once Levy is stitched up. He’ll be… insufferable. He’ll want something in return,” I warned him sharply. Alarm bells were going off in my brain, screaming at me to run in the opposite direction of this fucked up plan.

“And we’ll deal with that shit when we come to it. But for now, we just need to get Grace somewhere safe,” Erik replied in a low voice. I laughed and shook my head.

“My father’s house is anything but safe,” I muttered.

It was nearly dinnertime when I pulled the SUV up the expansive driveway of my father’s estate. Sure, I did technically grow up here, but this was never my home. It was a place of fear, self-loathing, and impossible expectations. The guards at the front gate hassled me a little, claiming he wasn’t expecting us until tomorrow. I forced them to call up to the house and talk to him directly, and he told them to let us in. I parked close to the door, and Erik hopped out quickly to help me maneuver Levy out of the back seat. He was conscious now but in a significant amount of pain, and he nearly collapsed into Erik’s arms when he opened the door. I took my sling off and left it in the backseat, unwilling to give my father another thing to comment on. I got Levy’s arm over my shoulders, and we limped slowly to the front door, Grace and Jesse close behind.

The door opened before we even reached it, and a stout older man stood in the doorway, his hands clasped behind his back—one of the many employees under my fathers regime. I ignored him and guided Levy up the stairs and into the house, considering our options. The living room was closest, so we could set Levy down on the couch before he collapsed on us. “Right,” I muttered, and Erik turned the corner into the ridiculously overdone living room, complete with a full-sized oil painting of my father and my mother, unsmiling as they stared down at us.

I helped Levy lie down on his stomach, and he immediately closed his eyes and sagged into the cushions, his face a pale gray that made me anxious. Grace led Jesse over to one of the softer-looking chairs, the large bandage across his forehead and cheek partially obscuring his vision.

“Of course, just make yourself at home.”

I stiffened, my hands clenching into fists at my sides as I stood up tall, turning to the far end of the room. There was Gregori Howell, in all his pompous glory. A smirk played on his lips as he surveyed our little rag-tag group, his eyes landing on Grace. I shifted in front of her immediately, drawing his attention. “Father, sorry to barge in a day early,” I replied stiffly, and he zeroed in on me, his pupils dilating as he scanned over me.

“You have nerve damage in your shoulder,” he announced, striding toward me. I forced my muscles to hold steady as his hand came up and landed on my injured side, his thumb probing the injury without mercy. I didn’t give him the satisfaction of wincing, even as he threatened to puncture the stitches holding my skin together. “You were careless enough to get shot, and then careless with your recovery.” He clicked his tongue harshly, releasing me as he shook his head. His eyes moved to Erik, who was trying to look at ease despite the tension in the room.

“Dr. Howell, sir, I apologize for the intrusion,” Erik said, walking up with his hand outstretched. My father accepted the handshake, studying him closely. “We had an unexpected spot of trouble, courtesy of Douglas Harding.” My father dropped his hand, gazing over at Levy sprawled out on the couch, his lip twisting as he studied him next. A wave of protectiveness surged through me, and I willed my legs to keep me still as I fought the urge to lunge in front of him.

“As you well know, I don’t take sides in these matters,” he mused, giving Jesse a cursory glance next.

“We’re not asking you to choose sides, we’re only asking to stay the night until we get back on our feet,” I told him sharply, and he narrowed his eyes at me, taking a step toward us. A small hand wrapped around my arm, drawing my attention. Grace stepped around me, toward my father, and I bit back a snarl as she reached out her hand in greeting .

“Hello, Dr. Howell, I’m Grace Harding,” she announced, and my father’s face broke into a wolfish grin that made my skin crawl.

“Ms. Harding, lovely to meet you,” he replied, the frost melting away to reveal the charming professor all the surgical residents swooned over. He took her outstretched hand and brought it to his lips, brushing across her knuckles.

“I’m so sorry to ask this of you,” she said softly. “My brother attacked us, and we needed somewhere to go where Levy could be safe and rest for a while. I understand that you don’t choose sides, and we aren’t asking tha-”

“You’re a sweet little thing, aren’t you?” my father interrupted, and she blinked in surprise. “Having a bit of trouble with your powers now, love?” He patted her hand, still not letting go of her.

“I… what?” Grace stammered, her eyes going as wide as saucers. It was like a pitbull staring down at a kitten, wondering how it would taste.

“My father has his own power, Grace,” I explained coolly, glaring at him. “He can figure out all your problems.” More like point out any weakness or flaws, and then use them to exploit you for his benefit.