Wed to the Bad Boy (39 page)

Layla

I don’t want to do this anymore.  It was too much, too soon.  I should’ve stayed in Chicago.  I should’ve refused to attend the funeral.

It was a spiral of shit that I couldn’t possibly climb out of, and now Cullen was doing something foolish.  He was always barging into shit and making decisions without even thinking it through.  He never consulted Bones, he didn’t even fucking call them and tell him what he was doing before he left.  It was going to have consequences.  Going against the MC and siding with the fucking Irish Mob.

How stupid could he be?

I knew I had to do something on my own to stop this shit storm from getting too big and too dangerous.

Maybe that was why I was at the house, rooting around in Sean’s drawers.  I don’t know what I was trying to find, my sanity maybe? I just wanted something, something of his to remind me of what we were fighting for.

That’s when I saw it.  A little note tucked into the corner of the drawer.  A little note.

Lala,

Don’t come home.  It’s not safe.  Bones.

Sean

Bones.  What did this mean? I wasn’t sure, but I needed to focus on Cullen and his plans for HB. 

What if Cullen was walking into a trap of Strike’s own devising? What if they were both walking into a trap?

I couldn’t go to the MC.  I didn’t trust them.  Not all of them, anyways.  Besides, I wouldn’t betray Cullen to people I barely trusted.   There was something about the way Bones looked at me, the way he dealt with this whole thing that had me doubting him.  No, only a couple of them could help him now.

I could trust my uncle and DeMarcus.  And that was it.

That was all I had.  But it would have to be enough.  I needed to get to them.  Needed to get their help.

Chapter 13

Cullen

“And you’re sure this is where he lives?” This was probably stupid as fuck, going into this back alley with Strike and following him up to a little piece of shit shack barely holding on to its bricks.

“It’s his ma’s place and he’s been stayin’ here.  Unless he’s with one of his women, it’s where he’ll be.”

I knocked hard on the door.  It was the front door of an alley house, so it was about as stable as you’d expect it, weeds growing up around the North Braddock home, threatening to strangle the house  take over.

“What?” The voice of an old woman yelled, her years of smoking clearly chipping away at any softness, leaving behind a rough rumble instead.

“Mrs.  McCartney? It’s me, Liam O’Brien.  I just wanted to check on you, ma’am.  See how you are doing.” I watched as the facade of politeness washed over Strike, changing him entirely.  No more was he the mob boss, but he was a sweet boy, the kind you imagined offering to wash your dishes after dinner.

He was damn good.

“Willem said if you came around I was to turn you down, said you wanted trouble.  But I don’t want no trouble with yer Pa.  Whatever yinz boys is doin’, that’s on you.  Not me.”

“Wise woman,” he complimented her.

“Me and my friend here, we need to speak to your boy.  He’s been missin’ a lot of work, and I’m afraid he’ll lose his job at the distribution center if I can’t get ahold of him.”

That money must’ve been all she was getting, at least besides her welfare checks, because when she opened the door, finally, I could see the look of desperation in her eyes.

“You’d let him keep his job? He said he was fired.”

“No such thing.  I’m sure it is all just a big misunderstanding, Mrs.  McCartney.  That’s what I am here about.  So if you could just—”

“He’s down at Patty’s pub, over in Wilkinsburg.  Probably playin’ pool with them boys he likes to gamble with.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” I swear, if he had a hat, he would’ve tipped it.

“And they just tell you what they want to know?” I asked.

“If they don’t, they know someone will be around later, and they won’t be so nice.” He said, grinning.

We each hopped on our bikes and took off for Wilkinsburg, eager to find what we were looking for.  The night sky lit up the landscape as we drove through the streets, running stop signs, and blowing through red lights if no one was around.  It was the perk of being on a fast motorcycle in an abandoned part of the city.  Cops were too busy dealing with real problems to care about us running up and down the streets.

Plus, Strike was that little bit of extra insurance.

When we finally pulled up to Patty’s I looked around.  “Are you sure you want to do this here?” I asked, switching off my bike.

He knew the area better than I did, and I didn’t want to be stupid.

I was foolish sometimes, but I wasn’t dumb enough to start shit on someone else’s turf without backup.

“Yeah, I’m sure.  You need answers.  I want to know why one of my own is stepping out on me.  Win-win.” Strike was serious, and in that moment, I realized he wasn’t trying to screw me.  He was genuine.  Plus, he had a whole lot more to deal with if he was trying to fuck me over.  Like he said, his pops and my MC were close enough that bad blood would result in a pissed off father, and he was already exiled from the family.

Shit.  The first few drops of rain hit my leather cut, plopping and then rolling down.  It was a good thing we parked under the awning, or I really would be pissed.  If we needed to make a quick getaway we’d have no choice but to tear up the streets in a storm.

Fuck.

“So you aren’t just helping me for a favor?”

“Is that what you expected?’

“No.” I wasn’t dumb.  Usually when a guy like him did something it was for his own means.  He could’ve been helping to get sway with the club, sure, but it seemed more realistic that he would want access to Willem for his own needs.

“What did he do?”

“You mean besides skipping out on me and leaving me with no loader for two weeks and counting? Motherfucker stole from the safe.”

Shit.

“What do you plan to do when you get him?”

“You’ll get your information, then you’ll leave the rest to me.  That’s the deal.” Strike’s hard jaw told me that it was all I wanted to know.

Whatever, it was his business.  I was here to get what I came for.

But I couldn’t help but ask, “Why bring just me?”

“What makes you think that?” He looked over to one side, and then the other.  It was then that I noticed the two vans parked on either side of the building.

This was much, much bigger than I realized.  I was here.  Without my brothers.   Brothers that I didn’t even know if I trusted.  Fuck.  What if they thought this was the ultimate betrayal?

There was going to be hell to pay if it turned out I was wrong.  It was too late to change my mind now, so I followed him into the club and past the bouncer.  How many of the guys here were on his payroll? On his father’s payroll?

Layla might know.

A couple of them signaled toward the back and that is where we went, through the small cloud of smoke and around to the billiard room.

A couple of guys were leaning against the wall, a few of them smoking while one in particularly, a scrawny rat of a man, bent over the table and aimed his stick.

“You’ll be wantin’ to put that down,” Strike said as he walked toward the man.

“Willem,” I said, asking more than telling.

“What? Do you want?” Willem looked to Strike and then to me.

“You know exactly what I want.  But first, tell the man what he wants to know.  Where are the boys from HB?”

“I don’t kn—”

“The truth, Willem, or I’ll let him have you before I take a turn.” Strike had him by the throat and up against the wall in an instant.

As soon as he reacted, his friends stood up and I recognized one of them from the attack at our clubhouse.

One of the assholes that got away.

I completely forgot about the target and launched myself right at the kid, landing a blow to his right ear before hauling him up by his collar.

Now his men and Strike’s were both crowded around us.  They were clearly outnumbered by our guys, and yet, that didn’t make me feel any safer.

“Where the fuck is your crew?” I demanded, pulling my knife out of my pocket and unsheathing it with the push of a button.  It went against his throat, the sting of it just bringing the smallest stream of blood.

“I don—”

“Don’t fuck with me,” I roared, the rage was so close to erupting, so close to taking over.  I didn’t know if I could control it, so I let it fuel my desire for truth.

“They’re hiding at a safe house over in East McKeesport.  At least until someone can come and get then.  You all ain’t that puny little club they was talkin’ about.  We got played, man.  We never knew—”

“If they’re in a safe house, then why the fuck are you out?”

“Gotta get my affairs in order.  Got baby mamas and shit to take care of.  Ain’t like I knew this was going to happen.” His pale complexion looked almost green against the lamplight and I swore he was going to throw up.

He was holding shit back.

“The fuck you talking about, you didn’t know?”

“Claimin’ that kill, man.  We got word it would be good for us.  Ain’t been nothin’ but a death sentence.”

“You sayin’ you didn’t do it?”

“Hell.  No.  We ain’t even been into your territory that way before the attack.  Couldn’t let it stand, you taking out our distributors.  Then we found out you was with the mob.  Yinz don’t fuck around.”

“No.  We don’t.  So, say I believe you, say you didn’t murder my best friend.  Who the fuck did?”

“Hell if I know.  Dude just contacted us, some guy who said he was with the mob.  Said it was part of a plan to get more territory and he wanted us to take it over.”

“Guy? What guy? I ain’t never heard about none of this.” Strike still had Willem by the neck, but he was now directing his attention to the rat I had ahold of.

“I dunno, some tall guy, had a tat of a Skull and a snake on his left arm.  Real fucking ugly, too.”

Ice went through my veins.  “What else?” I asked shoving him against the wall, his head hitting, hard.

“I dunno! Some white prick, black hair, tall, skinny with a pot belly.”

And a tat just like Bones had.

Shit.

Fuck.

Shit.

This was not what I’d planned for.

“Fuck,” Strike said, then he looked at me.  “You got your information, now go.  I don’t want you to be complicit in what happens next.”

I had a feeling that I wouldn’t see Willem or this kid again.

“You may not have killed Sean, but you killed Troy.  You’re all going the fuck down.”

I turned and walked out of there, my rage building as I tried to figure out what I was going to do next.

I needed to gather the people closest to me, the ones I trusted, and I needed to make a move on Bones before he knew that his secret was out.  I didn’t know if he killed Sean, or if he just wanted HB to take the fall, but I knew one thing.  That motherfucker was going to pay.

It had to happen quickly.  Only then could I take care of Hound’s Breath once and for all. 

***

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing? Trying to get yourself killed?” A tall, dark silhouette leaned against a pillar, his face and body hidden to all but me.

I knew his voice.  I’d know it anywhere. 

“Thrash.”

“You think you’re something special, invincible? That you’re girl isn’t going to mourn you when those bastards kill you? Hasn’t she been through enough?”

“I walked out of there, didn’t I? Not a fucking scratch on me.”

“That don’t mean shit and you know it.  What are you doing, Cullen?”

“Strike and me had this handled.”

“The mob? You’re workin’ with the mob?”

“We work with them all the time, don’t we?”

“Not this way and you know it.  It’s one thing to provide muscle on a run, or to help out their territory with patrols, but another entirely to be running with their crew, you feel me?”

“Shit’s about to go down, Thrash.  You don’t get it.”

“So make me get it.  Make me understand why I gotta come all the way down here to East Fucking McKeesport and pull your ass out of a bar, we ain’t got one back home? Sure as hell got a titty bar you can go and waste your time in.”

“Quit fucking around.  You wanna know what’s going on, or don’t you?” I knew I could trust him.  Thrash and me, we fought sometimes, but more like brothers than like enemies.  He was dickishly handsome, smart, and fucking annoying because he knew it.

“My place.  We’ll talk.” I hopped on my bike and fired her up, not saying another word as I sped out of there, gravel kicking up all around us.

Layla sent him after me, I wasn’t surprised.  I wanted her with people she could trust, and he was one of only a few of them.

How deep was Bones in this shit? How many people knew about his involvement?

Hell, what exactly was his involvement?

I ground my teeth and accelerated, not even bothering with the lanes, weaving in and out between cars.  I got a couple of fingers pointed in my direction, but I didn’t give a shit.  I needed to get my shit together, and I needed to do it now.

When we were finally back at the house I saw Mick’s old trike there, parked in my driveway.  I pulled up next to it and waited for Thrash.

“Fuck, you tryin’ to lose me? I know where you live, remember?” Thrash shook his head.  “So what’s the plan? How do we find those Hounds?”

“Ain’t the priority.  We got a problem, man.”

I stormed into the house, slamming the door against the wall as it opened.

“Mick, Lala, get your asses in the living room, now.  We got shit to discuss.  Thrash, grab me a fucking beer.”

I grabbed a chair from the kitchen and set it down, waiting for them to come in from the back porch.  Mick liked to go out there and have a smoke while he talked to his niece, never once stopping, in spite of the COPD that threatened his lungs.

I loved the man like he was my father, but what a fucking dumbass.

“Sit down.  Shit’s got real.”

“What is it?” Layla looked worried, almost like she’d been crying.  Probably scared of what she thought was going down tonight.  She had no idea.

“Ain’t the Hounds who killed your brother, Lala.  At least, that’s what they say.”

“How do you know it’s the truth?” Mick said.  “Might just want to save their asses.”

“I thought about that too, but the guy knew he was dying no matter what.  No way he was walking away from that bar after Strike was done with him.”

“Who’d he say did it?”

“Bones.”

“What? Bunch of bullshit,” Thrash started, but Mick held up his hand.