Ethan grunts furiously. “Were you at the Irish bar? Mulligans?”
“Yes.”
“The Murrays are heading over there. Chitto’s in town handling a personal errand for Wyatt, so he’s not doing anything except getting into trouble. I’ll send him down too.”
Oske’s brother has been tagging along with the club whenever he can’t find work that he prefers. There’s no part of him that enjoys staying up all night or carrying messages and weapons all over the country. He’s a pain in the ass, immature, smokes too much… not a bad kid, but a fucking mess. I’d rather have someone calm handling a problem this big. Unfortunately, the coolest cucumber on this side of the Missouri River might be Zebulon Blackwood. Not the gambler I’m on the phone with, that’s for fucking sure.
“Is Zeb back yet?”
“I don’t fucking know, Isaac,” Ethan snarls, almost losing his temper on the spot. “Just take the woman out of town and get ready for Darragh Murray to ass fuck you with the bill for clean up. And paying off cops. And whatever else he decides to charge us for this massive fuck up.
Ethan pauses expectantly. He wants an apology that I’m not willing to give. There’s no point in saying sorry if you don’t mean it and I would ruthlessly murder that man all over again in any world where I watched him wrap his hands around Gabby’s neck. I still haven’t examined her properly for bruises.
“I can afford the bill.”
“Yeah. I fucking hope so,” Ethan says, surprising me by calming down instead of getting riled up by my commentabout the bill. “I should have called you earlier and stopped all this from happening in the first place.”
“I don’t think anyone could have stopped this.”
Ethan makes a noise like there’s something stuck in his throat.
“I have news about Tylee.”
Oh fuck.
“And what do you mean nobody could have stopped it?”
“We shouldn’t talk on the phone about that,” I mutter.
“Right,” he says. “Or about Tylee. Bring the girl to my place before you skip town.”
“She might not like that.”
“I don’t care,” Ethan says. “Get her ass on the back of a bike and bring her to my house.Now.”
Chapter Eight
Gabby
We park in Beacon Hill, which I thought was a fancy neighborhood, not a place where cold-blooded murderers lived. I know he was just trying to save my life, but the contrast strikes me as particularly stark. What? Did I expect him to disappear into an alleyway? Of course murderers and villains live in regular houses. Even fancy houses. Isaac keeps close to me as he leads me to the ornate, iron front door of the Beacon Hill home that must be worth close to three million dollars, possibly more.
Isaac knocks on the door, which is completely unnecessary. I can tell that they have one of those insanely fancy front doorbell cameras. The doors open and Isaac ushers me down a long sterile white hallway. The home exterior might be the classic historic brownstone, but the interior is completely modern and breathtaking. I’m afraid to touch anything and take my shoes off when I enter. Isaac waits for me, but leaves his boots on.
We take a left turn after walking a few feet down the hallway and emerge at the entrance of a vast open concept with a flickering gas fireplace centerpiece drawing focustowards the center of the room. Behind the fireplace, I notice a gigantic slab of a man, his size only rivaled by Isaac. He stands up when he notices us within earshot but he doesn’t bother looking at me.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” he asks Isaac.
Isaac shrugs. “I’m going through something.”
“Right.”
“Tylee–”
“This has nothing to do with Tylee,” the large growly man says. Finally, he turns his attention towards me and I almost wish he hadn’t looked over at me at all. I feel locked in place beneath this stare and if I thought Isaac was mean, this new bearish character appears nothing short of brutal.
“Who are you?” he asks me. He looks me up and down, keeping his opinion to himself. Mostly, I sense his total disinterest in me and continued frustration with Isaac. I wish I could sink into my bed but I strongly doubt I’m going home tonight.
I was able to finally reach Averie to make sure she was safe and made it home. I called her four times before she texted me back an annoyed “What?” like I was bothering her. She doesn’t even get why I’m scared.