by Lane Hart
“Does Cormac…do you think he loves you back?” I ask.
Rian shakes his head. “He’s never said the words back, but I think maybe he does. And now all of this, taking a stupid bullet, could be his way of showing it.”
“Wow. I really wish you would’ve told me before now,” I respond.
Thinking back, this explains a lot about why Rian was so adamant about not leaving town. It wasn’t about loyalty to the Irish or the cause, like our father. He didn’t love the violence. Rian didn’t want to leave the man he loved. Something like that, well, how can I argue with that when it’s so sweet and romantic?
Squeezing Rian’s knee to try and reassure him, I say, “I bet Cormac will be fine. He wouldn’t have agreed to it if he thought it would kill him. He would run. He’s selfish that way, and not stupid…”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Still, it’s too dangerous!”
“Well, there’s nothing the two of us can do about his decision right now,” I remark. “How about we pray for him?”
“Pray? Seriously? Like that will do any fucking good!” he scoffs. Rian has always been skeptical of religion, and I can understand that better now. Why would he want any part of something that condemns him simply for who he loves?
“Praying is doing something when there is nothing else to do. It always makes me feel better, more at peace, if nothing else,” I point out. Closing my eyes and bowing my head with my hand on Rian’s knee, I pray aloud. “Lord, please watch over Cormac and keep him safe tonight and every other day. Help him be the best leader he can be. Please also keep the bikers safe and out of harm’s way. Let all the men find forgiveness in their hearts to replace their anger and need for revenge. In your name we pray, amen.”
“Thanks,” Rian says when I open my eyes again. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I just, I wasn’t sure what you would think. I know dad would’ve hated it and probably killed me himself if he had known.”
“Good thing he’s not here, isn’t it?” I reply. “Like he was perfect? You’re a better man than our father, even if you do things I don’t approve of – like starting a war with the MC.”
“Yeah. That was pretty stupid. I should’ve tried to get Cormac to talk to them first. Apparently, the Knights were going to get out of the heroin business anyway, which was Cormac’s whole issue.”
“At least no one died,” I tell him. “I’ll keep praying for the injured biker to get better. If he doesn’t live…”
“Then Cormac may have to take more than one bullet?” Rian finishes.
“Yeah. He could,” I admit to him.
“Then I’ll pray for the biker too,” he says with a small smile.
“Good.”
Getting to my feet, I walk around the small space to stretch my legs before sitting back down on the edge of the bed. “So, you said it was Wirth who worked out the deal with Cormac?”
“I think that’s his name – big guy with broad shoulders and dark hair who answered your door and put the zip ties on me?”
“Yeah, that’s him.”
“His friends said he’s got a huge set of balls to go into the pub alone,” Rian adds.
“Hmm,” I mutter. “He’s a good man.”
“They also mentioned he did it for a woman…”
“Oh yeah?” I try not to sound pleased by that and fail.
“Do you actually like him, or were you just playing him for information too?” Rian asks.
“I think I really liked him. He was better to me than I deserved,” I say, thinking about Hunt’s rage and how I could see in his eyes that he wanted to physically hurt me, possibly kill me for betraying the MC.
Wirth would never do that, though. I shouldn’t have been so quick to think he had fooled me into thinking he was a good guy only to betray me.
My trust issues with men, thanks in large part to my father, know no bounds. And for that, I’m certain I owe Wirth an apology, especially after he figured out a way to keep my brother safe.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Wirth
When we arrive at the pier, the only car in the lot is the black Jeep I remember from the Irish bar. We don’t see anyone immediately, so we walk around the pier shop, which is locked up tight, and cut through the dock to the pier. We spot the ginger and two of his fair-haired buddies standing way down at the end. It takes us several minutes to walk all the way out to them. On the way, I watch Malcolm screw a silencer onto the 9 mm he has in a shoulder harness under his cut.
Malcolm waves everyone back as we get within earshot of the Irish, only keeping me close to him. Cormac looks between the two of us, giving me a nod before his gaze settles on Malcolm. “You’re the president of the Dirty Aces,” he states rather than asks.
Malcolm points at his patches and nods. “That’s me. Wirth says you’ve already agreed to terms, but I want to hear you repeat them. Let’s make sure we’re all on the same page here.”
“We had bad blood with the Knight’s old president,” Cormac sighs. “Especially our former boss. They hated each other with a rare passion. Times have changed, and we need to change with them. Your man, Wirth, says that the Knights have patched over and are getting out of the heroin business.”
“That’s true,” Malcolm agrees.
“Then we don’t have any grievance with each other. There have been some mistakes made, but if we can put those behind us…” Cormac begins.
“We have one outstanding grievance,” Malcolm corrects him.
With a sigh, Cormac replies, “But once that’s settled, we’ll be straight?”
“We’ll be straight,” Malcolm confirms as he holds out his hand for a shake.
Cormac accepts the handshake, then asks, “Where do we do this?”
“Right here will be fine,” Malcolm says.
“All right,” Cormac agrees with another heavy sigh. “Listen up boys. Part of the deal is that the Aces have to put a bullet in one of us. I volunteered.”
The two fair-haired men standing behind Cormac had been silent up until now, but they both step forward to move in front of him before Cormac can wave them off. “This has to happen,” he demands as he motions for them to step back. “This was ultimately my mistake, and I have to take responsibility for it. Once it’s done, deal with my wound, and then go collect Rian. He’ll be in charge now. You understand?”
The two men nod, both of them looking as if they are fighting back tears as Malcolm draws his pistol. He doesn’t give Cormac a chance for any final words or monologuing. He simply pulls the trigger once, causing Cormac to jerk backwards against the pier railing.
“FUCK!” Cormac grunts as his hand raises to his shoulder. He looks at Malcolm in surprise, and with a hint of terror in his eyes.
“We’re good.” Malcolm says as he slides the pistol back. “Have your boys take you over to the hospital to get that cleaned. Should be through and through, just like your guys shot me. Get yourself patched up; we’ll send Rian and his sister to you.”
“Thank you…” Cormac gasps as his men help him straighten up and begin walking him down the pier.
“Next time you get a wild hair up your ass, you call me first,” Malcolm threatens as Cormac is led away. “Don’t make us go through all this again!”
Cormac’s only reply is a pained grunt as he’s helped to the Jeep.
“Nash, call Dev or Silas and tell them to let everyone go,” Malcolm orders. “Tell them where Cormac will be so they can go check on him, or have the prospect drive them wherever they want to go.”
Nash raises an eyebrow as he comes over and pulls out his phone. “Even if they want to go to Wirth’s house?” he tries to joke.
“Wherever they want to go,” Malcolm confirms. “Whatever’s going on with you and that girl, Wirth, you need to sort it out. Don’t bring any more fucking trouble to our table over this woman, you understand?”
“She isn’t going to want to see me anymore,” I protest.
Malcolm and Nash both snort at me, caus
ing an angry red flush to rise to my cheeks. “She’ll be crawling up his pole by tomorrow,” Malcolm quips to Nash.
“Tonight,” Nash corrects him with a grin.
I stomp off down the pier, irrationally irritated with both of my brothers after their ribbing.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Maeve
“You’re both free to go,” the guy with long brown hair says when he comes into the bedroom. Malcolm, I think his name is. He pulls out a big knife from the holster on his belt and cuts off Rian’s zip ties.
“How is he? How’s Cormac?” he jumps up and asks as soon as he’s free.
“He’s going to be fine. Just grazed his shoulder like the bullet grazed mine. It burns like a son of a bitch but will be fine in a few days,” Malcolm replies. “The prospect can give you both a ride to the hospital if you want. Cormac’s going to say he got hit while shooting at a range in the backyard with some drunk friends to try and keep the police away.”
“Let’s go,” Rian says to me as he rushes out of the room.
“Thanks for not killing him,” I tell Malcolm.
“No problem,” he says. “I’m getting soft in my old age. Having a kid and an old lady doesn’t help. They need me, so I can’t be trigger happy anymore.”
“Yeah,” I agree as I follow him out of the house where Rian is already climbing into an SUV with the former Knights’ prospect, Freddie.
I quickly look around, hoping to find Wirth to apologize to him and see where we stand.
“He’s not here,” Malcolm says, having figured out what I’m doing. “He said he had some work to do back at the shop.”
“My car,” I mutter, because I know that’s what he’s probably working on despite everything that happened.
“You nearly got him and the rest of us killed,” Malcolm reminds me. “Better figure out a way to make that shit up to him.”
“I will,” I agree. “Where’s his shop at?” I ask, and he rattles off the address.
“It’s only a few blocks from the pool hall.”
“Okay, thank you,” I tell him just as Rian rolls down the passenger window of the running SUV and yells, “Hurry up, Maeve!”
Since I know I would be frantic to see the man I love after he was shot, I wave goodbye to the Aces and jog over to climb in the back.
“Sorry,” I say. “Let’s go see how Cormac is doing.”
Wirth
I’ve got the rear axle out of Maeve’s car, and I’m working on getting the new one installed, when I spot her standing outside the open garage door, shifting her weight nervously from one foot to the other.
“You can come in,” I finally call to her.
“You don’t have to do this right now,” Maeve says when she comes into the shop, her heels clicking on the concrete.
“It needs doing. Now is as good a time than any,” I reply.
“Why didn’t you come by the house earlier when they let us go?”
“Wasn’t sure if you would want to see me,” I admit.
“See you? I want to do more than see you,” she says. “I owe you so much…”
“You don’t owe me shit. I’ve told you that from the beginning,” I snap at her. I don’t want another second of this…whatever this is with her, to be about trading favors.
“And that makes me want you even more,” Maeve says, coming up and wrapping her arms around my neck.
As she moves closer, I notice a dark tinting around her throat, bruising in the shape of big ass hands. “What the fuck happened? Did one of the guys hurt you?”
“It’s nothing,” she says, brushing it off. “Hunt was angry with me and he had every right to be upset. Can you really blame him? I deserved it.”
“And he’ll deserve my fists slamming into his goddamn face,” I threaten.
“No, Wirth. Please just let it go. Please?” she begs and it makes it nearly impossible for me to refuse her anything, even this. At least for now... “I’ve put you in enough danger as it is. And I’m so sorry, about everything. I can’t tell you how much it means that you got everything settled between the Irish and the MC. I don’t think I’ve ever met a man like you before. It’s no excuse, but my history with men has left me very…jaded.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” I mutter.
“The first man I was ever with bought my virginity from my father,” she says. It’s one of the most vile, disgusting things I’ve ever heard. In fact, I can’t even begin to understand the type of person who could do that.
“I’m sorry that happened to you, doll,” I tell her, and she shakes her head.
“I couldn’t believe that not only did the person I trusted more than anyone do that to me, but that a stranger could also be so callous. It felt like…like I didn’t have anyone on my side at the time and that I probably never would. But I was wrong,” Maeve says. “I’m not telling you what happened in my past to try and gain your pity. It’s just an explanation for why I wouldn’t let myself trust that you were a good man.”
“I don’t know if I’m a good man or not,” I admit to her. “I just want to make you happy and keep you safe.”
“And that’s all I need,” she agrees, pressing her lips to mine. Pulling away, she adds with a smile, “Amazing sex doesn’t hurt either.”
“No, it does not,” I agree. “But that’s only the beginning,” I promise her.
Epilogue
Wirth
A week later…
“Wake the fuck up! It’s homecoming day, motherfucker!” Devlin exclaims as all five of us barge into the bedroom at Joanna’s house. Last night she finally made the call, telling Nash that Fiasco had been fever free for four days, had finished up the antibiotics, and that his wounds were healing great.
“Go to hell,” Fiasco says before he covers his head with a pillow.
“Fine, we will, but we’re taking you with us,” Malcolm declares as he rips the pillow away from the grumpy man and Silas pulls the bedsheets off of him. Thankfully, he’s wearing a pair of boxer briefs or the joke would’ve been on us.
“Go easy on him!” Joanna warns from the doorway. “He’s still healing from two gunshots.”
“I’ll take his shit to the car,” Nash says as he throws Fiasco’s clothes and all into his bag. On the way out of the bedroom, he pulls a thick envelope from his back pocket and hands it to his sister. Not that she knows that yet. Maybe he’s never going to tell her.
“You’ve already paid me plenty,” Joanna says.
“Take it,” Nash insists. “For the time you missed from work and meds you had to steal. Least we can do.”
The rest of us know that it’s more than that – Lucy told Nash that Joanna’s bank account was low and that her mortgage was two months late.
“Thank you,” the woman finally agrees before she takes the envelope.
“No, thank you,” Nash replies before he walks out of the room with Fiasco’s things.
“If you all have any other medical emergencies, you know where to find me,” Joanna says, which is nice of her to offer.
“You’re a goddamn saint,” Malcolm says, kissing her cheek on the way out with Silas and Devlin behind him.
“What the fuck am I supposed to wear home?” Fiasco asks when he looks around and all his clothes are gone.
“Hold on,” Joanna says before she goes to the closet, Fiasco watching her just as closely as before whenever I visited. Pulling out a blue robe, she takes it over to Fiasco and helps him put his arms in it.
“Nice look, man,” I tease him. “Now let’s go,” I say when I start for the door, in a hurry to get back to my woman, who is at the pool hall with the rest of the old ladies, preparing a welcome back bash for Fiasco.
“At least you’re all covered up now,” Joanna says to Fiasco. Glancing over my shoulder, I see her pulling the two sides of the robe together and then Fiasco’s hands shoot out, cradling her face in his hands to kiss her.
I should’ve kept walking, but I’m too stunned to look away.
It’s a surprisingly gentle, sweet kiss, one that goes on and on until there’s definite moaning coming from both of them.
Holy shit.
“Fiasco!” I yell to get his attention before the other guys come back.
Both of them jump like they didn’t realize they had an audience to their moment. Joanna’s face is flushed as she takes a step back while Fiasco doesn’t seem inclined to leave.
“Come on, buddy,” I say when I go over to grab his elbow and urge him along. “You’re still surviving two gunshot wounds. No reason to make Nash add a third or a fourth.”
“It would be worth it,” Fiasco says.
“What?” Joanna asks. “Why would Nash care…”
“Ah, see ya, Joanna. Thanks again for everything!” I call back before hurrying Fiasco out of the house. I’d rather not start answering questions today and avoid whatever fallout might come from Fiasco, Joanna, and Nash all airing out their laundry.
Although, I get the feeling that it’s only a matter of time before that shit goes down and takes a piece of the Dirty Aces MC with it.
The End for Now…
Coming Soon
Thank you so much for reading Wirth!
Fiasco’s story is up next! Order your copy now!
About the Authors
New York Times bestselling author Lane Hart and husband D.B. West were both born and raised in North Carolina. They still live in the south with their two daughters and enjoy spending the summers on the beach and watching football in the fall.
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