Good. My world isn’t collapsing.
It’s just shaken a bit.
My legs gave out, and I had to sit. My eyes landed on an old, faded sign. “What the hell is Mystic Stones’s Healing Beverage Oasis?”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
YOU WANT IT, IT’S YOURS
LUNA
“Bait?” Rhys gritted out. “Youused yourself asbait?” He turned his anger toward my brother. “You let her use herself as bait?”
“Hey, no one lets me do anything,” I snapped, despite my self-promise to let him vent. I just really couldn’t stand when people talked about me like I wasn’t there.
“You’re right. I won’tletyou do anything. I won’tletyou out of my sight. I won’tletyou sit for a week. And I won’tletyou come for a fuckin’ month.”
Grayson put his hands to his ears and walked from the office while he muttered, “And I willletmyself out because I don’t need to hear this.”
At the same time, I held my hands up toward Rhys. “Whoa. Let’s not be hasty.”
He closed the distance and cupped my face, his fingertips digging into the back of my head. “I’m so pissed. And proud. And scared. And proud. And terrified.” His lids closed, and he lowered his forehead to rest against mine. “And so proud, baby.”
“I was okay. I was safe.” I reached up to grip his wrists. Not because I wanted him to release me, but because I needed the reassurance he was okay, too. He was warm and alive and breathing. “I promised, right?”
When I realized what was happening on my ride over to the abandoned building, I didn’t call dispatch for backup. I didn’t know if others were involved. Even right then, I still didn’t know. That was a job for IAB, external reviews, and whatever other lengthy methods they took to clear everyone.
And they would. It was too public for them to brush under the rug, and I wouldn’t let them if they tried.
Instead, I’d called my brother. His team made quick work of the gunmen they’d found lying in wait before stealing their perfect location.
When Grayson shared that the Molotov cocktails and the gunmen were straggler members of Nash’s old team and not anyone associated with the Irish, it’d been clear that Butler was planning to let them take the fall for everything. After all, with them out of the way, his thorough takeover would be complete. And unlike Nash, he had no interest in employing cheap labor with zero loyalty.
We already had a lot, but nothing that nailed the captain or Butler. Cap could’ve claimed it was a trap for him, too. That was why I’d gone in. I hadn’t expected much. Life wasn’t a drama that involved a villain soliloquy.
But there was always an exception to that rule, and the guilt-riddled captain didn’t have the same sense to take a second to calm down. He’d let his emotions rule.
“Areyouokay?” I asked Rhys since I’d already assured him a million times that I was fine.
“I’ll be better once the what-ifs stop ricocheting through my damn head, but I’m okay. Just…” He shook his head. “All this shit and drama from a prick I’ve never said a word to. How fucked is that?”
It was fucked. Very fucked. It was also how Butler had managed to make so much progress in his nefarious plot. Unlike Nash, he hadn’t been stupid. He’d surrounded himself with loyal lemmings as a mobster and a legit businessman. He hadn’t flaunted his women, guns, drugs, and power. He hadn’t dangled them in a flashy invite for someone to steal—which was likely how Nash had landed on Butler’s radar to begin with. He’d protected himself by staying removed and watching from the intricate shadows he’d created.
It was why the manager at NashVille had no clue where orders were coming from. Hell, he wasn’t even head of the super PAC that he used like marionettes to do his bidding. He was just on the board.
In my experience, it was going to be hard for anyone to prove Butler and his super PAC front were even involved. If Captain Talbot didn’t have something beyond his word—a word that no longer carried any weight—there was the strong possibility Butler might walk free. It could all fall on Talbot and the Nash leftovers.
Not that I was sharing that with Rhys. It was a bridge future-me would Molotov cocktail when I came to it.
Instead, I declared, “I need a drink.”
Rhys’s mouth tipped. “You finally ready for that piña colada?”
“With extra rum. Like, more rum than mix. A fuck-me-up amount of rum.”
“You want it, it’s yours.” Rhys kept a tight hold on my hand as we walked into the hall to find Judge and Grayson talking to two other men in suits. Nice suits, too. They looked like they cost more than my real car, my loaner car, and a month’s rent on my apartment.
Rhys tugged my hand to pull me back until I was close enough for him to loop an arm around my waist with his muscular body behind mine. A possessive hand splayed across my stomach, just under my breasts. “You’re already gonna pay for using yourself as bait. Wipe the drool from your chin before your tab gets worse.”
