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Dorian started to back away as if he were going to run. The cocky bastard hadn’t even brought a gun to this dinner.
“Bailey?” Weston prompted. “Do you want revenge?”
I thought it over for a moment, but this wasn’t my fight. He’d hit me a few times, but they would take that revenge out for me. I’d had mine when I attacked Danny. With a shake of my head, I handed Cyrus back his gun.
“No, I’ve had enough. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get a drink. I saw a bar out there.” I started to walk out, but I paused near the head of the table, turning to Dorian. “I’d give my condolences, but you don’t deserve any pity. Let’s hope the devil doesn’t reject you too.”
The doors closed behind me, and I’d barely made it a few steps when I heard the gunshots. The room fell silent, but I just slid onto a stool and smiled at the man behind the bar.
“Seems like you’re the new lady of the house. My name is Bentley. What can I get you?” the beta asked. He was definitely family, with the same dark hair and hazel eyes as my mates, but that was where the similarities ended. He had a baby face in comparison to the hard angles and cut jaw lines of the others.
“Whiskey neat. Keep ‘em coming,” I said. He grabbed a bottle and poured me a double. I downed it, then two more, before someone pressed into my back. The basil and honey hit me first.
Instead of asking for Hayes’ drink order, Bentley grabbed another glass and poured the whiskey that was already in his hand. He poured out three more right as the others joined us.
Cyrus took the stool next to me. There was a lingering sadness creasing his brows, and I rested my hand on his thigh as he took his first shot. “There’s been a change of management, Bentley.”
Bentley grinned. “About time, boss,” was all he said before refilling the now empty shot glasses. I wasn’t sure how things were going to change while they took over the Family business.
Honestly, it didn’t matter. I trusted them, and we were so close to taking down Burke and the entire trafficking ring that I knew none of them would give up on it. Hell, I knew Cyrus would be more determined now than ever. His brother had tainted their Family name and brought them into something he was adamantly against.
“I’ve got an idea on how to deal with this whole kidnapping situation.”
We all turned to Weston, almost afraid to hear his answer.
ChapterTwenty-One
Bailey
Weston’s idea was to have us walk right into the police station. They reassured me that they had contacts there to keep the situation from escalating. I was hesitant, knowing damn well the guys would be targeted, but I had to trust them.
There were no simple ways out of this. My body was still half bruised, and I couldn’t walk without a slight limp. Explaining that away wouldn’t be easy—not without some kind of a plan.
I groaned at the sight of reporters standing outside, practically frothing at the mouth at the glimpse of us stepping from our vehicles. “Who called the press?”
My mates moved, enclosing me in a circle of bodies to block me from their view.
“I did,” Weston said. “We need this to be believable, which means it should be documented. I’d bet my favorite gun that the senator is blowing up your phone by the end of this encounter.”
“A warning would have been nice,” Cyrus bit out angrily. He stepped back so he was by my side and forced Weston to move forward.
The clicks of cameras followed us to the front door where two officers were fighting to get control.
“Stand back, let them inside!” a woman called out, and that seemed to get the reporters under some small measure of control.
“That’s Chief Campbell,” Hayes whispered. “She’s on our side.”
“Great,” I said, actually feeling relief. Any woman that could move up ranks and command that kind of attention, especially a beta, in this society had my respect.
“Right this way,” she ordered, leading us into the huge building. We crammed into an elevator, and I expected some sort of interrogation to start, but she remained silent until we were in a large conference room.
The silence started to feel deafening as the guys pulled out a chair for me then flanked me. She studied me for far too long, her silver-blue eyes penetrating. The only real show of how she felt hit when she eyed my arms. There wasn’t much I could do to cover them, and Weston had asked me not to, so she got to see the brunt of the bruising and the marks on my wrists from being tied down.
“You can relax,” she finally said, settling back in her chair. “Can I get you water, coffee, anything?”
“I’m okay, thank you,” I said quickly.
“That’s probably for the best. Charley was on coffee duty today, so it probably tastes like dirt.”
