“Bruno,” she whispers, clasping my hand tightly. “It was Jeff Bruno.”
For a moment, it’s all I can do to take her words in. I don’t dare let myself feel the full extent of my anger just now. I don’t trust myself to. I simply give Belle’s hand a gentle squeeze.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice ragged, “Thank you, Belle. I’m so sorry this happened to you. Please believe me when I tell you that I’m going to do everything in my power to bring this asshole to justice.”
“Do you think Tyke will ever be able to forgive me?” she asks tearfully, looking younger than ever in that moment.
“I think...it’s impossible to guess what people are capable of,” I say slowly, “but my best guess is that Tyke’s more than capable of compassion. And forgiveness.”
“I hope so,” she whispers, falling back against the dressing room wall, “I really hope so.”
“I’m going to send back some of the other girls to take care of you,” I say to Belle. “You need to go to the emergency room.”
“OK,” she whispers.
“Oh, and Belle,” I go on, pulling myself to my feet, “if anyone asks, I introduced myself to you as Keira Campbell. All right?”
“All right...” she mutters, shaking her head. “Man. You MC people are a fucking strange bunch, you know that?”
“That does seem to be the case,” I smile softly, turning to go.
My heart is pounding in my ears as I make my way back out into the main club. I give orders to the girls about what needs to be done for Belle. They’re so relieved that someone was able to comfort her that they drop their improvised weapons and flock to their sister in need. I turn next to the pack of baffled MC brothers. Each looks more gobsmacked than the next.
“Well?” Mac finally demands. “Care to enlighten us about what the hell is going on?”
“I’m not sure just yet,” I tell him, “but I hope to be soon.”
I make my way wordlessly past them, and feel Brooks instantly at my side. As we march back into the sweltering night, two words clarify in my reeling, roiling mind.
It’s on.
Chapter Eighteen
The momentum that’s been building since Bruno slammed me up against that armored van and threatened my life is soaring to its peak. I’ve got my hands wrapped tightly around this situation’s reins, and all I’ve got to do is hang on. But this is unlike anything I’ve been trained for, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. For all I know, I’m about to get bucked out of the saddle and crushed in a stampede of circumstance. But what else can I do but see this through?
I was dragged into this mess before I even knew the extent of it. The second Mitchell chose me to take on this Vegas assignment I became a player. Bruno tried to scare me off, send me running for the hills, but he only brought me closer to the center of the action. I have no idea how far and deep this thing runs, but I know I can’t turn my back now. After what happened to Belle, how could I leave the Nine and the Wraiths alone to get blindsided? What if Bruno’s next target is Kassie, or Kelly? I’m not going to let him get away with this. I can’t.
Brooks and I head back to the penthouse to regroup. We can’t stay at my place, it’s just not safe enough. Hopefully, The Mayor can hold down the fort while I’m gone. I trust that cat to take on just about anyone. No, right now, the penthouse is our best bet. If you’re going to plan the take down of a dangerous criminal, might as well do it in style, right?
I’m silent as we hurry into the high rise, guarded as ever by the doorman, Franklin.
“Mr. Tiberi called ahead to say I could expect you both,” the usually chipper man says, “I’ll secure the premises now that you’re inside.”
I raise an eyebrow at the doorman. What does he mean, secure the premises? With a solemn glance, Franklin pulls back the front of his uniform to reveal a serious-looking piece.
“Thanks Franklin,” Brooks says, leading me toward the elevator, “good to know you’ll be on guard.”
“What is he, a hit man or something?” I whisper, as we step into the elevator.
“Former hit man,” Brooks corrects me. “Current...private security coordinator.”
My head is spinning as we make our way into the gorgeous penthouse suite. Routes forward light up in my brain, sparking along like fireworks. I don’t have time to think of eventualities, we have to act fast. Bruno’s escalating this conflict with exponential speed and intensity. There’s no room for playing nice here. I sink down onto the leather couch, resting my elbows on my knees. Vegas is lit up through the floor-to-ceiling windows before me, but I can’t concentrate on the stunning view. My next move swims up and crystalizes in my mind as Brooks sits down next to me, two cold beers in hand.
“It was Bruno,” I tell Brooks through gritted teeth. “He beat up Belle, and tried to pin it on Tyke.”
“Sonofabitch,” Brooks growls, taking a long swig of beer. “So, what now? Are you going to go to your agent in charge?”
“No,” I reply, sipping my beer, “no, that won’t do it. I have to handle this myself.”
“Yourself? Red, what the hell do you mean?” Brooks asks, his eyes teeming with conflicted concern. “This guy is clearly dangerous. He could seriously fuck you up, or...what are you doing?”
I’ve whipped out my cell and opened up a new message. Before Brooks can stop me, I’ve sent off a text to my monstrous fellow agent.
I know what you’re doing. I want to help.
“There,” I mutter, as the text goes through.
“Are you insane?” Brooks asks, snatching my phone away. “He’s a maniac.”
“All the more reason to stop him,” I point out.
“That’s what the goddamn FBI is for,” Brooks says, grabbing my shoulders.
“You know as well as I do that the FBI will never take him out,” I say quietly. “Just like the Navy was never going to stop that asshole who went after Natalie. Sometimes you have to take justice into your own hands, right?”
“Red—”
“Isn’t that what you told me, Brooks?” I insist, taking his face in my hands.
“Yes...” he allows, his jaw clenched tightly, “But I didn’t mean your hands. I can’t watch you put yourself in harm’s way. What if something—?”