Lucky: The Irish MC (44 page)

The old man threw his head back and laughed. I wanted to punch him. “What the fuck. Come on, what the fuck is so fucking funny?”

“She’s gone, boy.” The man laughed. For a moment, his patronizing tone sounded exactly like Peyton, and I balled my hands into my fists at my sides and growled. He looked chastened, but gave me a warning look all the same.

“Help me,” I growled. “I need to save her.”

“It’s probably a lost cause, you know that, right?” The old man sucked in air through the gap in his front teeth. “But I got a gun behind the bar here that I can sell you, if you need.”

I shook my head. “I can’t pay, man,” I said. “I’ll pay you later. I’ll pay you double, but it’s gonna have to wait. Let me see.”

I saw the old man hesitate and then slowly reach under the bar. He came back with a sawed off shotgun and placed it on the bar in front of me. I could see where the serial number had been scratched out.

“This is all I have,” he said quietly. “You can pay me later.”

I rolled my eyes. “Do you have ammo for it? I need a few rounds.”

The old man shook his head. “No, I haven’t needed things like that in a long time.” He gave me a rueful look. “Just when I thought this shit was over and done, you have to go bringing it back into my bar.”

“Hey,” I said defensively. “I’m not doing anything, I didn’t ask the fucking Manticore to start patronizing you. At least you’re getting some fucking business!” I slammed my hand down on the bar and a cloud of dust rose up around the shotgun; I could tell it hadn’t been used in years.

The old man shook his head. “I just want peace,” he grumbled. “I’m too old to deal with this shit anymore.”

I narrowed my eyes and grabbed the gun with one hand. “You have any idea where I can get some ammo for this fucker?”

The old man tilted his head. “Try a pawn shop,” he advised. “Do anything, just get out of my bar. Bring back the gun when you’re done with it.”

“Are you fucking serious? You’re not worried about the cops coming around here?”

The old man laughed heartily, throwing his head back and exposing a mouth full of rotten teeth. “What do I have to be afraid of?” he asked, still laughing. “What’s going to happen to me now? I’m an old man.”

Crazy old bastard
, I thought to myself as I hefted the sawed off shotgun outside and tried to look like I had every right to be carrying an illegal weapon openly on the streets of Detroit.

There was a pawn shop on the next block and I stormed inside, carrying the gun in one hand and whistling. If I was going to go out, I might as well go out blazing, right?

The woman behind the counter screamed when she saw me. She almost looked a little like Lacey—if Lacey were fat, middle aged, and had no teeth. They had the same big grey eyes and dark hair and I shook my head at the absurd nature of seeing her everywhere.

“Relax,” I said in a low voice. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Chapter Twenty Nine

Lacey

“Have a good weekend?” Anne asked me as I let myself in the front door of Dawning Center. I frowned. She seemed entirely cheery; it was like our bickering of the past few weeks had been forgotten.

“It was fine,” I said flatly, hanging up my coat. “How was yours?”

“It was great!” Anne gushed as though she’d been waiting forever for me to ask her. “It was so wonderful!”

I narrowed my eyes. This was unusual. Anne and I had always been cordial, but she was acting really strangely. “Did you meet a guy?”

Anne laughed. “Don’t be a child, Lacey. Some of us are capable of having fun without sex.”

Ouch
, I thought, turning away.
Guess her bitchiness is intact after all
.

“Lacey, I need help with cleaning today,” Anne instructed. “When you finish getting ready, can you help me mop the floor and sweep before the kids arrive?”

I nodded. “Got it,” I mumbled. “What else do you need?”

Anne stared. “What is with you? You’ve been acting so strangely the past few weeks, Lacey. Is something wrong? You can talk to me.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I’m fine,” I muttered. “Just some guy stuff.”

“Men can be distracting,” Anne said, not unkindly. “But you need to focus on being here right now, or else I’m going to have to let you go. Your performance here has really been lacking lately. I’ve wanted to give you more chances, and you know how hard it is to hire people around here…”

I frowned. “What are you talking about? I’ve been fine,” I said. “I know I was late a couple of times, but I’ve always called when I was going to be out.”

“Children need reliable, stable influences in their lives,” Anne continued. “And if you can’t understand that and make that a priority, I don’t think it would be for the best if you continue working here.”

“Are you kidding? What the hell is this really about?” I flipped my dark hair over my shoulder and planted my hands on my hips, staring at Anne. She bit her lip and turned away, and suddenly, I got it.

Chase. It’s about Chase.

“Lacey, please start cleaning up,” Anne said finally. “Do you need me to tell you again?”

I shot her a dirty look and went over to the corner to fill the bucket. The mop was leaning against it and I grabbed it wearily. Ever since the fight with Chase, I hadn’t been sleeping well. In fact, I hadn’t really been sleeping well since I
met
Chase, but somehow it was easier to blame everything on our fight.

Our fight. I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall. The fluorescent overhead lighting burned into my lids and I felt a bolt of pain strike my head. I had no idea how things had gotten so fucked up so quickly, but it was like my entire life had changed with Chase and this mess he’d dragged me into. All because I accidentally saw him hit someone! It was ridiculous.

As I automatically mopped the floor, I thought about everything that had happened between us since we’d met. The lies, the sex, the passion… Ugh. It seemed like no matter what Chase did—or what he said, or how he treated me—I was always going to find him sexy. I was always going to think about the night that we’d spent in each other’s arms, making love…

“Lacey!” I heard a familiar voice and turned around to see Mark. Groaning inwardly, I mustered as much of a smile as I could.

“Hi, Mr. Simpson,” I said cheerfully. He gave me a sharp look.

“Lacey, how many times have we had this conversation? It’s Mark, please,” he said, exasperated. “You’re my friend, not my student.”

I rolled my eyes; I was the nursery school teacher of his children, which I didn’t really think could be counted as his ‘friend.’ “Sorry, Mark,” I said, gritting my teeth. “How are Peter and Shaunna?”

Mark shook his head. He looked cute when he was stressed. “Peter is doing well, but Shaunna’s starting to come down with a cold. I’ve kept her at home for the day with a sitter, but Peter’s feeling fine. If he starts acting weird, just give me a call and I’ll leave work to come get him immediately.”

I nodded. Honestly, the only reason I thought Mark was cute was because he so obviously loved his kids. Compared to Chase, he looked like a cupcake. I tried to imagine Chase caring about any kids half as much as Mark loved his and burst out laughing, it was just too much to think about.

“Lacey?” Mark narrowed his eyes. “Is something funny?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m sorry.

“Lacey!” Anne barked from across the room. “Come over here and finish cleaning!”

“Sorry,” I said to Mark. “I have to go.”

“Still think about that date, okay?” Mark asked. I frowned; he hadn’t asked me out in over two weeks now. “The offer always stands.”

“Okay, Mark,” I said, forcing a smile. “I will. I promise.”

***

Chase

After my little excursion to the pawn shop, I was feeling more nervous than ever about finally encountering Peyton. A nervous chill ran through my body; it had been so long time since I’d begun looking for Rose’s killer that I’d almost forgotten what it would feel like to actually win.
If I win,
I thought grimly. It hadn’t escaped me that I might die within the next day; I was surprised to find myself feeling oddly light about the prospect. Of course, thinking about them hurting Lacey was something else. I tried to tell myself that they wouldn’t really do anything to hurt her, that they were only using her to get to me, but deep down, I wasn’t sure if I believed it. The Manticore and the gang members of The Machetes were notoriously ruthless. If they wanted to kill her, they wouldn’t blink before doing so.

I loaded up my car with the gun, as much ammo as I could find, and a couple of small knives. The drive to the warehouse made me uneasy. It had been a long, long time since I’d been out there. The last time I’d shown up, I’d gotten fucked by my buddies. The cops had been there, and less than a day later, I’d been in prison. It seemed like ages ago now, and it was at this point: over ten years.

It may have been over a decade, but the warehouse still looked just as grimy and shitty as ever. What was it with these guys having nasty haunts? I couldn’t imagine they benefitted from living in such horrible conditions. It was just like Peyton’s little hideaway apartment, only worse. There were rusty nails all over the ground leading up to the warehouse and I suddenly hoped Lacey hadn’t been wearing open-toed shoes. The last thing she needed was tetanus.

Every muscle in my body tensed as I heard the rough barking of a German shepherd. It lunged at me and then yanked back, whimpering. When I got closer, I realized that it was on a tether connected to a metal spike in the ground.

“Easy,” I whispered, keeping my hands down and at a safe distance from the dog. The dog barked and saliva dripped down its jowls, spattering the ground. As I stepped to the other side, it began to growl at me. I reached for the shotgun at my side and pointed it at the dog’s head. The dog whimpered and backed away slowly, letting me pass. I nodded at it. “Good boy,” I whispered quietly. “Thank you.”

The dog obviously didn’t respond so I gave it a wink before sneaking over to the corner of the building and sliding along the side. Inside, I could hear low male voices. There was nothing indicating that Lacey was inside. I couldn’t hear her voice, and it sounded like the guys were talking about some big drug deal. Shaking my head, I blinked and looked down at my feet. I couldn’t believe that it had come to this. After all of my work, I’d still been outsmarted. I’d always known how tough The Machetes were, but this felt like a whole other ball game.

Perspiration slid down my forehead as I inched my way closer and closer to the door of the warehouse. I cocked the shotgun and kept it pointed straight in front of me. Suddenly, the chattering inside stopped. I looked up and checked for a surveillance camera, but nothing was there. Just as I was about to move forward again, a pair of hands clamped down on my shoulder. I was spun around, and before I knew what was happening, I was falling in a blackout haze to the ground.

***

When I woke up, my head felt like it was stuffed with concrete. I could feel dried blood on my temple and I moaned quietly, screwing my eyes shut in an attempt to stop the pain. My whole body hurt; it was almost like my bones had been broken. Cautiously, I lifted each limb up in the air. I was sore, but usable. But I was stuck to something…

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I realized I was tied to a post in the center of the room. Curiously, they hadn’t cinched my wrists, rather the upper portions of my arms. I heard a stirring in the room and looked around desperately for Lacey. If they had her, they had to have her nearby.

I was able to fish a knife out of my breast pocket with my teeth and use it to slice away at the ropes that bound my biceps. By the time I was through, I was shaking and sweating with the effort. My heart sank when I realized that this was probably exactly what they had wanted: me getting cocky and coming out blazing. Slowly, I walked out of the tiny room and into the main part of the warehouse.

Peyton and some men I’d never seen before were sitting at a table. Peyton looked up at me and grinned, and for a moment it was just like old times. I had to remind myself that he was the furthest thing possible from my friend on the planet.

“Old friend!” Peyton called, as if reading my mind. My hand flew to my side, looking for the shotgun, even though I could see it propped against the wall. “So good of you to join us, Chase,” he said loudly. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show!”

I’d never heard Peyton speak so clearly, or so intelligently, and the change was startling.

“Don’t you have anything to ask me?” Peyton grinned. “About your little girlfriend?”

“Fuck you,” I spat. “Where is she?”

“She’s not here, little Chase,” Peyton cooed sarcastically. “Can’t you see that? Are you fuckin’ blind, man?” His cronies chuckled and he silenced them with a glare. “Don’t you have something you wanna talk about with me, son?”

I stepped closer, clutching the knife I’d used to cut myself free. “You’re dead,” I hissed. “Get up and fight me like a man, Peyton.”

Peyton looked around in mock surprise and his men laughed again. This time, he didn’t tell them to shut up. “I don’t know about that,” he said finally. “I don’t think I’m done with you yet. What do y’all think? I think we should have a little more fun with the other McIntyre sibling.”

I growled at the merest mention of my poor, dead sister. “Fuck you. I’m going to win this, not you.”

Peyton gestured around at his men. For the first time, I noticed how burly and huge they all looked. “That’s what you think,” he said delicately. “You can go now. I’ll have Rocky show you out.”

“Fuck,” I growled. “When are we gonna do this like men, Peyton?”

Peyton didn’t answer, he waved one of his hands in a fey little gesture. “Beats me,” he said finally. As I was leaving, he called out, “Whenever I feel like killing you, I guess!”

My blood boiled as Rocky escorted me outside. He was a head taller than me and seemed to almost be mute; he was one of those guys with no neck, and two hundred pounds of muscle on his frame. Still, though, I decided to try him.

“Where’s Lacey?”

Rocky looked down at me and then swung a punch that left me seeing stars. Pain exploded in my jaw and my mouth was suddenly full of a warm, iron-like taste.

“Fuck you.” I scowled. He dragged me to the end of the lot and pointed at my car.

“Thanks for nothing,” I muttered under my breath.

So they didn’t have Lacey. But where was she? I sat by my car and watched as Rocky the Hulk staggered back towards the warehouse. As much as I desperately wanted to make sure she was okay, I knew that I had some things to take care of first. For one, I had to find a way to determine the weakness of Peyton. It wasn’t enough that he was letting me go on some sadistic leash. I wasn’t going to be a pawn like that, not if I could help it. Plus, if they didn’t have Lacey, it meant she was safe. Or safer, at least, than I’d thought earlier. Peyton and all of his men were at the warehouse; I wouldn’t have been surprised if they never even talked to her in the first place.