Lucky: The Irish MC (45 page)

They were just using her to get to you, you fool, and it worked
, I thought miserably. I’d never been so vulnerable in my life, not even when Rose was still alive. Until she’d been killed, I stupidly thought that I was safe from things like that happening. And regrettably, I hadn’t ever given her the attention and security she’d deserved. But then again, I’d tried with Lacey.
And just look at where you are now
, the voice inside my head hissed.

I shook my head angrily. I was going to have to come up with a serious plan.

Chapter Thirty

I was still sitting on the hood of my car when Peyton walked out of the warehouse two hours later. Two hours later, I was no closer to a plan. I had no idea where the gun was, and when I saw him walking towards me I realized that I might not have longer than a few minutes left in the world. But when Peyton spotted me, he grinned.

“I was thinking this was too good to be true!” Peyton crowed. “We didn’t hear your car and then I began to wonder if you were going to stick around and join us.”

“Never,” I said. “Where’s my fucking gun?”

Peyton held up his hands and grinned, shaking his head from side to side. “None of that sass now,” he said in a teasing voice. My heart began pounding in my chest and I could feel my palms sweating. “Do you wanna hear my little plan?”

I nodded, reaching down into my pocket and fingering for the knife. It wasn’t there, but my fingers scraped against the sides of my new phone. I’d bought a burner when I was out shopping for the gun, just in case I needed to get in touch with Lacey. But this was going to be even better than that. I pressed the button on the side until I heard a soft
ping
indicating that it was recording.

“Sure,” I said, trying to make my voice friendly. “Let’s talk.”

“Not out here, fool,” Peyton snarled. “Come back inside with us and then we’ll have a little heart to heart.”

Shrugging, I stepped towards Peyton. Two of his thugs appeared out of nowhere and flanked my sides, pinning my arms uncomfortably against my body.

“They’re just doin’ their job,” Peyton said when I shot him a glare. “More than you can say for yourself right now, Chasey.”

I kept my mouth shut as Peyton’s thugs frog-marched me back inside the warehouse. Once inside the door, they let me go and I looked around, feeling disarmed. My head was aching from when someone had clocked me earlier; every time I breathed in I could feel the dried blood crusted around my nostrils.

“What do you want?” I looked up at Peyton. His big dark eyes were all pupil; suddenly he looked eerily like another species of human altogether. I felt a shiver when I realized I was seeing him like this for the first time.
The Manticore
, I thought.
It really is him
.

Peyton approached my chair and circled, making me feel nervous. He kept his eyes on me like a bird of prey watching its next meal.

“I’m gonna be scoring a huge supply of dope pretty soon,” Peyton began. He glanced around at his thugs and they started laughing as if on command. “To overtake the boss of the gang, Net.”

“Why the fuck are you telling me?” I angled my body closer to Peyton so my cell phone would record everything he was saying. “I can’t help you. Not when I’m gonna be too busy killing you,” I spat.

Peyton laughed, a deep throaty sound. “You’re funny, man,” he said after a minute. “You think I need your help? I’m only telling you because dead men don’t talk!”

I felt a chill of fear run down my spine and I reached for my knife. Against the wall on the other side of the room, I saw something propped up and covered with a paper grocery bag. When I realized it was my shotgun, my heart sank.

“So you’re gonna have this little secret all to yourself,” Peyton warned. “We’re gonna let you go for a little bit so you can think about all the ways we’re gonna kill you later,” he said with a sinister laugh. “You think you can handle that, Chasey?”

“Fuck you. Not if I kill you first, asshole.”

“Chase is such a prize, don’t y’all think so?” Peyton glanced around at his thugs. One of them made eye contact with me and spat on the floor. “Now walk him back outside and give him the instructions.”

“Come here, you,” one of the guys said, walking over and grabbing me painfully above the elbow. With his other hand, he formed a fist and punched me squarely in the face. “That’s for making me drag your ass around,” he muttered. I blinked, seeing stars.

The men dragged me outside and left me propped up against my car. As they turned to leave, one of the thugs leaned down and whispered in my ear. “See you soon, punk.”

I shivered as I watched them walk away. When the warehouse door was safely bolted, I pulled my phone out of my pocket.

Bingo
. It was still recording. With a satisfied nod, I clicked it off and emailed the audio to myself and Lacey. Maybe there was still time after all. Despite the pain flashing through my head, I was starting to come up with another plan. Even though Peyton was a brutal and evil genius, I had the sense he was starting to get cocky. He only told me his plan to show off—if it was even his plan anyway. For all I knew, he could have been lying. But I’d known Peyton for long enough to think that he was being straight with me. For one thing, he’d always been too fucking cocky for his own good. For another, I knew how greedy he could get when he really wanted something. It was more likely than ever that he’d been telling the truth. And now I had to think of a way to outsmart him.

Working with Net wasn’t a viable option. I knew that like Peyton, he wanted me dead for my crimes against The Machetes all those years ago. It didn’t matter that I’d served time; the only thing that mattered was that I’d fucked them so good in the first place. But Net wasn’t stupid. I didn’t know how Peyton was going to outsmart him. Peyton was good, but he was too cocksure to really be subtle. It wasn’t news that The Manticore was back around. I hadn’t wanted to believe it, but I was sure that Net and his thugs had sniffed Peyton’s presence out from the first rumor of his return. Peyton’s sloppiness was the one workable angle I had in this situation. I wasn’t sure what I could do with the recording; Net would never let me stick around long enough to play it. But I felt there was some hidden advantage there that I wasn’t quite understanding.

Finally, as I climbed into the driver’s seat and jammed the key into the ignition, an idea came to me. I could potentially screw both Peyton and Net if there was a way to get the recording directly to Net. I realized I didn’t have much time; whatever I came up with, I’d have to act quickly. I racked my brain of everyone I could think of who might have contact with Net. I couldn’t use Lacey; that would be like throwing her right into the line of fire. But what about that bar downtown…

I drove with my foot glued to the floor until I pulled up in front of the bar. The old man saw me through the windows and I could see the fear written plainly on his face. When I slammed the door open, he cowered behind the bar.

“I can’t help you anymore,” he said in a quavering voice. “I’ve given you everything I could, don’t you see that?”

I shook my head. “I have a plan,” I said under my breath. “But it involves you shutting your fuckin’ yap and listening to me, you got that?”

The old man opened his mouth to speak but then closed his lips and blinked at me slowly. I rolled my eyes. “You don’t have to be so fuckin’ weird,” I told him. “For fuck’s sake. I need help with Net now. Peyton’s planning to fuck him over, and the only way I can defeat Peyton is by screwing them both. You know anyone who sees him around?”

The old man closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “I might,” he said after a long pause. “I might know someone who could help you find him.” He opened his eyes and looked right at me. For the first time, something shrewder and colder than fear reflected in his eyes. “It’ll cost you,” he said gruffly. “You prepared to pay for what you want?”

I nodded. “I’ll give you whatever I can,” I said. “I just need to fuckin’ find this guy.”

The old man held out his outstretched hand. Groaning, I grabbed my wallet out of my back pocket and handed him a wad of bills. “This is all I have right now,” I added as he grabbed the cash out of my pocket and counted through it carefully.

His face darkened. “I don’t know if this is enough,” he said stiffly. “I might need more.”

I slammed my fist onto the bar. “It has to be enough,” I growled. “I can’t get you any more until tomorrow. That’s too late. It has to be before midnight tonight.”

The old man glared at me and shrunk back into the shadows. “Fine,” he said gruffly. “I’ll contact you when I know something definite. Now go home.”

Turning on my heel, I spat on the floor as I walked out of the bar. Warning bells were clanging in my head; I had no honest idea whether or not he’d be able to help me. All I had to do was wait for his command, then turn over the cell phone recording. But what if someone thought I faked it? What if it didn’t seem legitimate? Messing with The Machetes was likely to make me wind up dead, or back in prison. Still, any chance of knocking Peyton out was the only option I had. I couldn’t keep going on and letting him kill again.

Now, I had to go check on Lacey. It might already be too late, but at least I could make sure that she was safe and sound.

Chapter Thirty One

Lacey

“Miss Lacey! Miss Lacey!” I turned around to see Shaunna running towards me. She jumped and I caught her at the last minute, feeling her small weight wrap around my torso. She looked up at me with a big grin on her chubby face. “Miss Lacey, my daddy wants to invite you over for dinner! Me and Peter are going to Grandma’s house!”

I laughed and felt a blush rise over my cheeks. “Shaunna, that’s very sweet,” I began. “But I’m not sure it would be appropriate for your dad and me to have dinner together. We don’t know each other very well.”

Shaunna sucked in her cheeks and gave me a fish-face. “My daddy likes you,” she repeated. “He talks about you all the time. Me and Peter want you to come live with us!”

I closed my eyes and fought the urge to laugh. It was true that since Chase and I had…split up, I’d been feeling lonely. But there was nothing in a million years that could have convinced me to go for Mark Simpson and his two adorable children. Sure, a long time ago I’d thought that he was cute. But that was until Chase stormed into my life.

“I don’t know, honey,” I said diplomatically. “Maybe I’ll talk about it with Daddy when he comes to pick you and Peter up.”

Shaunna crossed her eyes and shook her head, sending her curly blonde hair flying. When she looked at me again, her cheeks were flushed and her hair was a mess. “That’s not what Daddy said,” she said crossly. “Daddy said it would be fun!”

Setting Shaunna down on the floor, I brushed my hands off on my jeans. “We’ll talk when he gets here,” I said firmly. “Now I need you to go clean up. Take Peter with you, okay? Make sure he washes his hands for thirty seconds!”

“One Mississippi, two Mississippi…” Shaunna began counting automatically, punching the air with her pointer finger as she talked. I shook my head.

“Shaunna, in the bathroom,” I said gently. Shaunna nodded and ran off to find her brother. I leaned against the wall and took a deep sigh. I was feeling exhausted. It had been weeks since I’d had a decent night of sleep, and I had a feeling things were about to get even more dire. I hadn’t heard from Chase in over twenty-four hours, and with every hour that passed, my anxiety grew. I hated him for not listening to me, but at the same time I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t worried about him.

True to Shaunna’s word, Mark came in with a big bouquet of flowers. He handed them to me and I could barely see over the top. Perfume filled my vision and made my head swim.

“These are beautiful,” I said diplomatically. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

Mark threw his head back and laughed. He did have a nice face; he was tan, with prominent cheekbones and an almost feline-looking square jaw. He was astonishingly pretty for a man—not like Chase’s rugged visage at all. “They’re for you,” he said after a moment. “Don’t you like them?”

“Mark, this is too much,” I gently protested. “You can’t give me these. They must have cost a fortune!”