“Fuck.” I ended the call, grabbing my shirt.
“What is it? It’s not about that guy this morning, is it?” Shy sat up—naked.
I helped my unsteady state of mind by sliding the throw blanket from the back of the couch around her shoulders.
I found my keys, combed my hair back with my fingers, sat next to Shy. “No. Not about that dickweasel.” Unbelievably, Bo’s shitshow was worse than my own for a change. “But Shy, you have to call me if you so much as see that bastard again. Promise me.”
“I will.” She touched my jaw, and I wanted to kiss her goodnight, goodbye, but if I started on her again I’d never stop.
“Okay. Lock up after me. I might have to go out of town for a day or two.” I caressed her cheek, my fingers following the sensual curve of her lips. “You have to call me, Shy.”
“I will.” She grasped my wrist, kissing my fingertips. “Don’t get in trouble.”
“I think that’s my middle name right about now.”
****
Leaving Shy did not make me a happy fucking camper at all, but when a Retribution brother needed help I couldn’t say no. The three o’clock meeting at the MC compound was a grim affair with Bo quickly unraveling.
Hunter took him in hand, said a few quiet words to the distraught man, and packed him off on some kind of solo reconnaissance he returned from a few hours later.
By that time, Walker—Hunter’s ex-partner in the special ops field—had miraculously turned up. It was like the longhaired Lakota dude had a sixth sense for danger and bad situations and couldn’t wait to get his C-4 on. Of Tail, Hunter, Boomer, Brodie, Cole, Tuck, and me, Walker was the only one who looked sadistically gleeful about the prospect of the shit that was set to go down.
Bo filled us in. Long story short: Doc Ronnie wasn’t exactly who she seemed to be.
She’d gotten involved with the Iron Coffins MC when she was very young, back when they’d been based out of Santa Fe, and she’d been too na?ve to know better than to run with meth dealers and gun runners.
Then she’d started dealing drugs herself.
An ATF and DEA bust netted the biggest players, but Ronnie turned to WITSEC. The rest was history or some such shit—she got her life turned around, stayed off the radar.
Until she happened to hook up with the former Marine captain boasting a Medal of Honor.
Captain Maverick had wrangled all that info out of Ronnie’s FBI handler. The Special Agent showed at her house just in time to be interrogated by Bo, who was so not Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky.
And now we had the plans for the Iron Nails MC compound—recently renamed and relocated to Jacksonville, Florida. Working on the assumption that was where they’d taken Ronnie.
To kill her?
Kidnap her to make a point?
Keep her from testifying at an upcoming trial?
Not a single one of us had a fucking clue.
But Walker sure seemed fired up to do away with outlaw MC shit heels or, better yet, the Fed Bo had questioned.
“What did you do with the Feeb?” Walker grinned with something close to misguided joy.
“Tied him up and dropped him over the Ravenel Bridge.” Bo’s short hair stood up on end like he’d raked his hands through it a few dozen times.
Walker gave two thumbs up to the idea of killing a federal agent.
“Just kidding.”
“Why not?” The Native American man scowled. “I volunteer.”
“Knock it off. No unnecessary murders today.” Hunter snarled.
“Always such a buzz kill.” Walker moaned. “Hate that you’ve gone full legit.”
“Looks like a road trip.” Brodie peered around.
“I don’t wanna drag y’all into this shit circus.” Bo squinted at the floor.
“Too bad. This ain’t a democracy.” Boomer canvassed our reactions to Brodie’s statement and rightly assumed we were all in.
We usually tried to play it legal, but that didn’t mean we weren’t above fucking up anyone who messed with our women.
“Reconvene this afternoon. We’ll take Iron Nails by dark.” Hunter took point when Bo looked overwhelmed by the MC’s support. “Get cleaned up, gear up, and move out.”
“Clean up?” Brodie sniffed his pits then sniggered in my direction. “Hey. I’m not the one who smells like sex.”
“Sure glad someone else noticed that.” Tail stroked his long black hair behind his head. “Handsome’s got hot pussy action written all over him.”
“I was with Shy.” With my face shoved against his, I added, “And I already warned you what would happen if you talked smack about her again.”
“Shee-it.” Brodie stepped between the two of us, his hand on my pumping chest. “We’re just razzing you, brah. We didn’t know you’d finally hooked up with your girl.”
I drove all ten fingers through my hair and released a small smile. “Well, I did. A couple weeks ago. And none of y’all’s business anyway.”
“’Bout damn time,” Coletrane muttered. “Thought you were gonna dig my eyes out with a spoon every time I glanced at Shiloh.”