Chapter 48

“If you giveGriff one more dirty look,” I warn my brother. My threat’s empty since I can’t think of anything that would actually scare Remy.

The tension in his face fades into a smile. “What? You gonna stuff my shoes full of paper again?”

“Maybe.” I cross my aching arms over my chest, then release them. “It’s not Griff’s fault.” My eyes water and my throat tightens as all the fear of what just happened ripples over me. “He…he put himself between a gun and me.”

Griff pulls me into his arms, wrapping himself around my body like a cocoon of protection. “Shhh.” He kisses the top of my head. “We’re okay now. It’s okay.”

“Why’d you do that?” I rasp. “You could’ve?—”

“That’s just how I’m built, baby. I didn’t think about it.”

He knows he could’ve been shot, right? His heart thumps wildly against my ear as I press myself tighter to his chest. At least he’s not as calm as he seems on the outside.

“I was scared as shit he was going to accidentally fire the gun,” he says to my brother.

“Well, he’s not shooting anything now.”

The robber’s zip-tied ten different ways into what looks like an uncomfortable position on the garage floor in front of my car.

Griff’s arms tighten around me. “What the fuck made you grab a crowbar?”

I pull back so I can see his face. “We’re in a garage. It was the first thing I saw.”

Remy snorts. “You’re turning my sister into a serial killer.”

I turn and glare at him. “I’d argue you’ve both contributed to my serial killer education.” I hold up one fist. “Who’s been teaching me how to defend myself since I was five?”

“She hasn’t killed anyone,” Griff says. “Don’t put ideas in her head.”

“So, what are we doing with him?” Remy asks.

“After I called you, I called Jigsaw and Dex. I assume they’ll spread the word.”

“Thank fuck Jerry’s off in Nova Scotia and the rest of his employees are slackers.” Griff runs his hands through his hair and turns his head toward the office. “This could’ve been really fucked if more people were here.”

“Guys, aren’t we going to call the police?” It seems like one of them should’ve done that by now.

Remy tilts his head and studies me for a minute. “Yeah, I’m sure they’ll assume Griff’s completely innocent.”

“He is!”

Tension pinches Remy’s expression. “He doesn’t need the publicity. Not before the fight.”

Griff turns haunted eyes on me. “What am I going to say? My estranged mother almost got us killed because she owes some drug dealers? That’s all people will be talking about leading up to the fight.”

I don’t want to do a damn thing that protects his mother, but his concerns are valid. The promoters would love a juicy story to bring more attention to the fight. Anything to sell more tickets. Even if they spin it to make Griff look like a hero, all that exposure will shine an ugly spotlight on his family demons.

“Lost Kings always want to know if anyone’s moving product through their territory,” Remy says to Griff.

“They might’ve lost the battle with the hillbilly heroin,” Griff mutters. “That shit’s everywhere.”

Remy shrugs. “They’ll still want to question him. Find out who he works for. Anything they can get out of him.” Remy slaps his hands together like he’s dusting off the responsibility of the robber’s dwindling life expectancy.

“Are they going to…kill him?” I whisper.

Remy stares at me like that’s his last concern in the world.

Griff pulls the magazine from the robber’s gun out of his pocket. “It was loaded, Molly. He could’ve killed us.”

“I need you to go home before they get here,” Remy says.

The distant roar of engines speeding down the road draws the three of us to the open garage door. Too late.

“Shit. How’d they make it from Empire that fast?” Remy asks.

“Jiggy’s been out this way a lot lately.” Griff shrugs. “You want to ask him why, be my guest.”

“Jigsaw threatened to cut off a customer’s fingers for touching my leg last summer.” I let out an awkward chuckle. “Imagine what he’ll do to this guy.”

Griff raises two eyebrows at my brother. “See. She’s fine.” He rests his hand on my shoulder and squeezes.

The roar becomes deafening as two Harleys pull into the parking lot.

I back farther into the garage.

The gunman stares up at me from the floor, the whites of his eyes bright in the surrounding darkness. He yells into the gag my brother stuffed in his mouth and thrusts his bound wrists at me.

“No can do.” I shrug. “You should’ve listened to my boyfriend and beat it when you had the chance.”

“Get away from him,” Remy says.

The engines idle outside for a few seconds, then cut out.

I return to Griff’s side. He quietly hands me his car keys. “I want you to take my car and go home after we give them a rundown of what happened, okay? Don’t talk to anyone about this.”

I pocket the keys and scowl at him. “How dumb do you think I am?” I gesture to the crowbar leaning against the back tire of my car. “I’m probably on the hook for some kind of felony assault myself. You had already subdued him when I attacked.” Nerves keep forcing me to ramble and make up stuff to put Griff’s mind at ease. “We’re in this together.”

He hooks his arm around my neck and pulls me against him. “I love you so much, baby,” he murmurs. “I’m so fucking sorry this happened. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you’d gotten hurt. I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

I slide my arms around him and squeeze. “I couldn’t tell you were scared. And I never doubted you were going to disarm him.”

He pushes me back and cups my cheeks. “We need to work out some sort of plan or signal. I didn’t know how else to tell you to get down on the floor and take cover.”

“Duh. I figured when you tapped my hip, that’s what you were trying to tell me to do.” I point to the passenger side of my car. “I was planning to crouch down and hide behind the front corner.”

A rush of harsh laughter bursts out of him and he hugs me again. “I hope it’s the last time we ever have to worry about it.”

Griff

The need to keep Molly close to reassure myself she’s okay keeps warring with my need to keep her safe from the bloodshed that’s about to happen.

I might have learned a long time ago how many shades of gray there are to life, but I’d rather have Molly stay innocent for as long as possible. Although her brutal use of the crowbar and rather quick acceptance that we’re not calling the cops, suggests her innocence already slipped away.

Several pairs of boots scrape over the gravel outside. Remy leads Jigsaw and Wrath into the garage. Fuck. As enforcer, it’s Wrath’s job to take care of threats in his club’s territory but I don’t want him questioning Molly’s ability to keep her mouth shut.

Wrath stops a few feet away from us and crosses his arms over his wide chest. “Stonewall, don’t you have a fight you’re supposed to be training for?” His disappointed dad tone and scowl hits me in an unexpected way.

I let out a harsh laugh. “Trust me, this isn’t how I wanted to spend my afternoon.”

He lifts his chin. “Nice car. Is it yours?”

“It’s Molly’s.” I wrap my arm around her shoulders. “We were finishing up some work on it when that greasy little weasel over there showed up and pulled a gun on us.”

Wrath’s scary gaze settles on Molly. “You all right?”

She nods quickly.

“What’d he want?” Wrath asks.

A knot of embarrassment twists in my stomach but I meet Wrath’s eyes and tell him the truth. “My mom’s got…issues. She moved down to Jersey to start over a few months ago. I haven’t been in contact with her since I got home. She left me some messages looking for money while I was on the show but…” I shrug. “I tried helping her out and taking care of her when she was here. And fuck knows she’s drained a lot of money out of me over the years, but this is the first time someone’s ever showed up to collect from me.” I need to make it clear this isn’t an on-going issue I’ve been hiding from the club.

“We don’t know who he works for,” Remy adds.

Jigsaw lifts a giant pair of bolt cutters, his eyes wide with wild, gleeful malice. “He’s got ten chances to give up a name.”

“Twenty if you start with his toes,” Wrath suggests.

“This isn’t my place.” I hold out my arms, indicating the garage isn’t the right location for the interrogation they’re planning.

“That room in the bar’s basement still available?” Wrath asks Remy.

Molly turns her wide-eyed stare my way. Until now, she’d been doing a great impression of a rock. Silent and completely still. She really doesn’t need to be here for this conversation.

“You need to go home.” I rest my hand on her lower back and give her a nudge.

“Not so fast, little girl.” Wrath cocks his head and studies her. “What’d you see today?”

“Leave her out of it,” Remy says.

Molly lets out a slow breath and flicks her eyes toward her brother. “I was in it when that guy pointed a gun at me. And even deeper in it when I smashed his leg with the crowbar.”

Jigsaw reels back and cackles. “Guess that ruthless streak runs through your blood.”

Remy sighs.

“Griff had him,” Molly says. “But I already had the crowbar in my hands and I was afraid he’d try to run.” She lifts her gaze and meets Wrath’s stare head-on. “But if anyone outside of the four of you asks, all I saw was the inside of this garage while Griff and I were working on my car.”

Wrath nods once, then turns his hard stare on me. “She’s your girl.”

He’s not asking but I answer anyway. “Yes.”

“She’s my sister,” Remy says. “She won’t say anything.”

“Okay,” Wrath says.

Those two syllables land heavy. If Molly breathes a word of this,Remy and I willbe punished for it.

Wrath pulls out his phone. “I don’t think she should be at your house alone, though. I’m gonna ask Dex to stop by and watch your house until?—”

“No,” Remy says. “She can go over to Vapor and Juliet’s place. She’ll be safe with them and no one has a reason to look for her there.”

Molly nods quickly. “I’d rather do that.”

“All right.”

I take Molly’s hand and walk her over to the door leading out of the garage. “I’ll have Remy bring me over there to pick you up later.”

Outside we stop at my car and I open the door for her. “Be careful.”

She lifts her chin. “What’re you going to do with his truck?”

Shit, one of us should’ve moved it. “Don’t worry about it.”

“All right.” She leans up and kisses my cheek. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” I watch her leave, then return to the garage.

The guys have our robber loaded sideways on a creeper. “Murphy’s bringing a van,” Wrath explains to me.

Wrath rips the guy’s gag off.

“Are you talking, or are we snipping?” Jigsaw asks, showing the guy the bolt cutters.

In between sobs and sniveling over his broken wrist, black eyes, and shattered ankle, he gives up the name of his boss. I don’t recognize it but Wrath’s eyes light with interest.

Outside, tires crunch over the gravel. I grab the gag and shove it back into the guy’s mouth.

“It’s probably Murphy.” Wrath jerks his head toward the door.

Remy opens one of the large, overhead garage doors and guides Murphy as he backs a plain, black van inside.

“What’s up?” Murphy steps out of the van and pulls a black knit hat over his unruly dark red hair and slips on a pair of black leather gloves.

“I’ll fill you in,” Jigsaw says.

“Can we leave the bikes here?” Wrath asks me.

“Yeah. No problem.” I lift my chin toward the parking lot. “I gotta get rid of his truck.”

“Is that piece of shit out there his?” Wrath asks. “I thought it belonged to the shop.”

“No, that’s what he came in.”

“Fuck, Griff. It’s been sittin’ out there all this time.”

“You honestly think anyone’s gonna come asking about this guy?” Remy asks.

“That’s not the point,” Wrath growls, his eyes narrowing. “You got a place you can get rid of it?”

“Yeah,” I answer slowly. “There’s a junkyard I have access to.”

“All right. You two take care of that.” Wrath slaps one hand on Remy’s shoulder and the other on mine, his firm grip demanding no argument. “We’ll take care of him.”

My jaw tightens with determination. “This is my situation. I’ll handle it.”

“Ah, so strong and yet so wrong,” Jigsaw rhymes, shaking his head at me.

It’s probably the tension of the afternoon snapping, but I burst out laughing. “What?”

Wrath’s stern expression doesn’t waver. “We need you focused on training for that fight,” he says. “Not gettin’ distracted with a side quest. Dump the truck. That’s all I need from you.”

“You know I have no problem getting my hands dirty,” I protest.

“We know,” Murphy cuts in, his tone as forceful as Wrath’s. “You also need to take care of that truck right now.”

Arguing with him is pointless. “I’ll get it done.”