Chapter 2

2

PHANTOM

“ I don’t take checks,” the florist snapped as she guarded the door to her delivery van.

Rom growled, and I grabbed his arm, holding him back. “Calm the fuck down, brother. You think not having flowers will upset your bride? How ’bout if her groom is in jail?”

“Jail?” the young, pinched-faced florist squeaked.

I shot her a warning glance. “Relax. No one is going to do shit to you. I’ll run to the bank and get cash.” I pointed my finger at the uptight woman who had shown up to deliver the wedding flowers. “But you better unload and get everything set up, or that might change when I return.”

She narrowed her eyes at me, but then they went wide when she glanced to my side. I followed her gaze, seeing my prez, VP, and a few other brothers in the Silver Saints MC standing beside us. “Um…okay…just be sure to bring?—”

“Yeah, yeah,” I cut her off, already stomping to my bike parked a few feet away. “Just get your bony ass to work.”

I didn’t hear if she responded over the roar of my motorcycle engine starting, and I didn’t give a fuck. With a chin lift from Mac, the president of my MC, letting him know I’d handle things from here, I pulled out and headed into town.

I was already irritated from coming to Layla’s rescue when her overbearing mother wouldn’t stop driving her crazy. I’d stepped in and practically dragged her to her seat where her husband waited and ordered him to keep her ass there.

Every patch in my MC was like a brother to me, and that made their old ladies like sisters, so we were all invested in what made the women happy. But I’d always been closest with Rom, and Layla had wormed her way into my heart, becoming the annoying little sister I never had and never wanted. But I’d be damned if some uptight florist ruined her wedding.

There was a short line at the bank, so it didn’t take me long to withdraw the money. I stashed it in the inner pocket of my suit coat—I still had no idea how Rom talked us all into the monkey suits—and strode purposely toward the revolving door.

A woman dashed into one of the compartments, and I quickly slipped into the one behind her as she pushed frantically to get the glass moving. I was in a hurry too, but it didn’t stop me from noticing that she had a spectacular ass for someone so small. Her jeans molded to the perfectly rounded globes, and her long auburn hair fell to just above them.

When fresh air hit me in the face, it broke my focus on the woman. I shook myself, surprised at how my body had reacted to just the back of some chick’s body. Especially when my dick had basically taken a leave of absence a long time ago. Casual sex had never been my thing, and I’d joined the CIA when I graduated from college at twenty-one. Being a spook wasn’t exactly conducive to relationships, then when I left The Company almost two years ago, I hadn’t found a woman who’d interested me. Yet this stranger— the back of her, for shit’s sake —had made my cock stir.

I shook my head, then grunted when I walked into something soft standing in my way.

I glanced down just as the woman hissed and bent over. Her breathing was suddenly labored and recognizing the sound—having caused it often enough during my years as an operative—concern had me rapidly moving so I was facing her.

She was still bent over, her arms wrapped around her torso, and her beautiful face contorted with pain.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” I rasped, trying to focus despite being awestruck by how fucking gorgeous she was. “Are you okay?”

From what I saw, she had at least one broken rib and probably a few bruised ones.

“Yes. I’m sorry,” she wheezed, although her breathing wasn’t as shallow. and color was returning to her pale face. “I didn’t mean to stop so fast. I was looking for…”

Her musical voice trailed off as she straightened, and her gaze traveled up my body, her head falling back so she could look at my face since I practically towered over her.

She doubled-blinked her jade-green eyes, and her mouth parted slightly, conjuring images of her puffy pink lips around my cock. I pushed them away and smiled at her dazed expression, then frowned when she sucked in a breath before wincing.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. My tone was gruffer than I’d intended, but I was already picturing my hands around the throat of whoever had hurt my girl. My girl?

Well, shit. My brothers had been right. The second I looked in her eyes, I knew she was mine. The petite redhead with big tits and wide, round hips was obviously very young—too young for me. I guessed she was at least eighteen, although until I knew for sure, I shouldn’t have been contemplating how to get her under me. But the truth was, it didn’t matter to me. I was going to claim her anyway, even if I had to wait to do it.

When she shook her head and backed up, I worried that my tone and angry expression might be scaring her. But I didn't see any fear when I locked eyes with her. There was confusion, but I was also satisfied by the desire simmering in them.

When she took one more step, her foot got caught on the seam in the sidewalk, and she began to stumble backward. My hands shot out, and I gently clutched her biceps, but I immediately shifted my hold to her shoulders when she whimpered and grimaced.

“What the fuck?” I muttered. I dropped one hand to her wrist and used the other to shove up the sleeve of her sweater. Bruises in the shape of fingertips marred her perfect skin, and I growled as rage built up inside me.

“Tessa! Let’s go.” My head whipped up to see a man who resembled my girl with the same green eyes and auburn hair. He stomped over to her, clearly not even noticing me as he scowled at her and grabbed her other arm, gripping it tight. “Stupid fucking bank,” he muttered as he forced her to go with him in the opposite direction.

I was about to go after her when my phone rang, and I remembered why I’d come to town. Fucking hell . I needed to go after her. But I also couldn’t disappoint Rom and Layla by skipping out on their wedding…especially when I was a groomsman.

In the end, I decided to get back to the wedding, despite my heart screaming at me, demanding I go find her. However, if I hopped on my bike and followed them, there was a good chance that the man—who I assumed was her father—would call the cops and I’d be detained, screwing over all of my intentions. After so many years of being a spy, I knew how to be invisible, but there was no way to hide while riding a motorcycle…especially my hog.

The logical thing to do was call Grey or Hack, two brothers who were world class hackers. They could locate her, and I’d go get her as soon as they did.

Pissed as fuck at the shitty situation, I stalked to my bike, slammed my helmet on my head, and took off like a bat outta hell.

Once I arrived back at the church, I shoved the money at the florist, then stomped through the building until I found Grey. He sat with his old lady in one of the church pews, but he took one look at my face and kissed her cheek, then murmured something and stood. I pivoted and stalked to an empty corner at the back of the chapel, grabbing a tithing envelope and a pen on the way.

“What’s up?” Grey asked in a low voice so we wouldn’t be overheard.

“Need you to track someone down,” I muttered as I began writing everything I could remember about Tessa and our encounter on the little envelope.

Music began playing, and I silently cursed, knowing I needed to take my place because the wedding was about to start. I finished scribbling my notes and shoved it at Grey. “It’s not much to go on, but this is top fucking priority, brother.”

Grey skimmed it and shrugged. “I’ve worked with less.” He peered at me and cocked his head. “Mac approve this as top priority?”

Frustrated, I grunted and shook my head. “Haven’t had a chance to tell him, but…she’s mine.”

He absorbed my words for a minute, then our attention shifted to the large, carved wood chapel doors as they were propped open, and ushers escorted the first guests to their seats. Grey slipped the paper into his pocket and lifted his chin toward the dais at the front of the room. “I’ll get on this as soon as we get back to the hotel tonight. We better get to our places.”

I nodded and made my way up to the front. Rom was pacing under the flower arch, and I rolled my eyes as I approached him. “Worried she’s gonna ditch your grumpy ass?” Rom glared at me but cracked a smile when I laughed and grabbed his hand to pull him in for a back-slapping hug. “Happy for you, brother,” I told him before taking my place with the other groomsmen.

The ceremony was probably very nice, but as hard as I tried, I couldn’t pay attention. All I could think about was Tessa and what she might be going through at that moment. The only thing that kept me sane was the glimpse of irritation I’d seen on her face—rather than terror—when her father had pulled her away. I’d instinctively known she had some fire in her, but I was willing to bet that she was going along with whatever predicament she was in to keep the peace while she figured things out. Well, I was about to sort that shit out for her.

I saw through as much of the reception as I could, but when I spotted Rom and Mac waiting for their women by the restroom, I stormed over to where they lounged against the wall.

“Mac.”

They both looked up, and their brows furrowed at my furious expression and tone. “I need help,” I growled.

Mac frowned and pushed off the wall. “Whatever you need, Phantom. What’s goin’ on?”

“I saw…I met…fuck!” I cursed as I ran my hands over my head. “My woman. I found her. But…there were bruises. Shit. I have to get to her.”

“We’ll handle it,” Mac assured me, giving me a small trickle of relief. Not that I had expected Mac to brush off my request. Whether Tessa had been my woman or not, if I’d told him that I met an abused woman who needed our help, he would have been just as ready to help.

“You talk to Grey or Hack already?” he inquired.

I nodded. “Grey’ll start searching as soon as they get back to the hotel tonight. I’m headed back now so that I’m ready when he finds out anything.”

Mac nodded but didn’t say anything since his old lady, Bridget, and Rom’s bride, Layla, stepped out of the bathroom. He kissed his woman’s forehead and smacked her ass. “I’ll meet you by the cake, baby.”

Bridget looked around at the three of us, then patted me on the shoulder as she passed. “Your turn, huh?”

Layla looked at Rom with a question in her eyes, but he shook his head and took her hand. Then he glanced at me and Mac. “Let me know if I’m needed,” he said before walking away with his bride.

“You know who’s hurting her?” Mac questioned.

“Pretty sure it's her father,” I snarled, feeling even more angered that she was suffering at the hands of someone whose job it was to protect her.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

“Something about the way he looked at her, almost desperate. And the irritation in her expression when he dragged her away. I think there’s more to the story. I need to get her away from him.”

“No question,” he agreed. “But if it’s her parent…” He stared at the wall for a moment and stroked his beard. When he met my eyes again, I knew what he was about to ask.

“I don’t know how old she is. If I had to guess, I’d say over eighteen, but I won’t know for sure until Grey tracks her down.”

Mac sighed and crossed his lean arms over his broad chest. “You know we’ll handle this either way,” he assured me. “But it’ll be a fuck of a lot harder if she isn’t legal, especially if the abuser is a parent.”

“Understood.” I’d already thought through many, many scenarios. “One more thing.”

Mac raised a silver eyebrow and waited.

“She’s injured. Patch is headed home in the morning, and even if he wasn’t, he doesn’t have a clinic here…” I trailed off, knowing he would pick up on my request without my needing to voice it.

“You want me to put in a call to Fox.” It was a statement, not a question, so I didn’t respond.

Patch was our club doctor. He had a clinic attached to our clubhouse, but we were in Old Bridge, where Layla was from—a couple of hours from the Silver Saints compound.

Through Grey’s old lady, we had a connection to the VP of the local MC, the Iron Rogues. The prez, Fox, ran their club in the same way Mac handled the Silver Saints. Their activities weren’t exactly legal, but they weren’t involved in dirty shit like drugs or the sex trade. They respected women and were known to help people who needed to disappear. But most importantly, they had their own doctor.

“I’ll give him a call and let you know what he says. Go on back to the hotel so you’re ready when Grey has her location.”

I jerked my chin up in acknowledgment, then turned and headed to the parking lot.