War (Kings of Sin MC #2)

2. Good Cop/Bad Cop

CHAPTER 2

GOOD COP/BAD COP

I can’t catch my breath. My lungs seize. It’s over. How the hell did they already find him?

As if reading my mind, Callan says, “Grease went to check our perimeter when we heard gun shots. He just called me. We’ve found him.”

My head fills with static. My heart hammers against my ribcage.

“I—”

“Shhh, we’re taking care of it. I don’t want you to think about that bastard, you hear me?” His dark eyes implore me before he crushes me against his body. It hurts, but I don’t say anything. I just soak him up. “I came looking for you. Fuck, I’m so sorry, Rogue.”

He flinches, guiding me back from his hold, his eyes dragging over my battered body. “I’d bring that fucker back to life if I could, just so I can kill him again.”

“I’m fine.” I close my eyes, trying to un-muddle my thoughts. “He waited out there for me. The guy from Ray’s—it was his dad.”

“He’s as corrupt as they come. We knew he would come for us. We planned to deal with him before that happened. I didn’t think for one second that he’d go after you.” Veins bulge in his neck, throbbing erratically.

“Now you don’t have to deal with him.” Damn, how much deeper can I get with the Kings? They now have the power to destroy me without even killing me. Knowledge is power.

“He wasn’t on duty or working within the law. No one will ever find him or the car.” He takes my hand in his, closing his fingers around mine. “I promise you don’t have to worry about this.”

“Okay. Thank you.” I nod, offering a tight smile that hurts to achieve. Taking my hand from his, I shove it into my back pocket.

“We need to take you to the hospital, Rogue.” His brow crashes as his eyes rack over my face mapping all the damage.

“No.” I shake my head, the action sending ringing through my ears. “I just need to clean up.”

“Rogue.” It’s pained, a groan rumbling up his throat.

“Please, Callan.”

Kitty’s footfalls sound behind us, “leave her, Callan.”

Silence dangles between us, his chest rising and falling as he contemplates my plea.

“Do you want to shower?” He finally asks. My gaze flits to his bathroom. Sickness roils in my gut as images of Georgina from earlier flash through my mind.

“I’ll use Kitty’s.” I relax my lips, my gums stinging.

“Rogue.” He wipes a hand across his brow. “Nothing happened with Georgina. She tried her best, grabbed at my zipper before I could stop her.”

“It’s true.” Kitty interrupts. “He told her nothing was ever going to happen with them. She needed to get that through her thick skull or leave the club for good.” Kitty walks to where we’re standing. “Don’t let her play mind games.”

My head drops, exhaustion draining me. “Let me clean you up then you can sleep for a little bit.” She edges.

“Okay,” I agree.

She leads me into the bathroom, shutting the door on Callan, who followed us and now resembles a stone statue at the threshold. I jerk involuntary when she reaches for my jeans. “I’m sorry.” She gasps, snatching her hand back.

“No, I’m sorry.” I shake my head and hurry the fabric down my thighs, closing my eyes when hers go wide. Pain burns the skin with the rushed action. When I open them again, I catch my reflection in the mirror and gasp. My hair looks like I got swept away by a tornado, the strands matted with leaves and grit. The copper undertones glimmering in the light remind me of embers flickering beneath coal. Bruises color my cheeks, and my lips are swollen and encrusted with blood.

“Not going to lie, you look like you just crawled out of a grave.” Kitty grimaces.

I chuckle and clutch my ribs, instantly regretting it. “Ow.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Can you help me with this bra?” I manage a slight smile that she mimics.

“Of course.” Her fingers delicately unclip the hooks and shift the straps down my arms. “I can’t fucking believe that bastard did this to you.”

“The law has never been a friend of mine.” I snort. “Biker brat and all.”

She pauses her movements, looking at me through the mirror. “I’m sorry about how I reacted to everything before.”

“I get it,” I say, waving her off. I have no animosity toward Kitty. I just want us to be okay. “Tell me about Georgina. Why is she around if Callan doesn’t want her?”

She runs warm water in the sink, wetting a washcloth.

“She and Callan went to school together. They were together when they were young.” My body stiffens, I catch her eyes in the mirror. It’s irrational to be jealous of a past I have nothing to do with or any control over, but the stab scrapes against my heart all the same.

Exhaling heavily, she shakes her head, anger flicking in her gaze. “Callan found her with his best friend,” she bites out.

“What?” I gulp, then flinch when she dabs the cloth against my flesh.

“Richie. She ended up marrying him. They were together a long time. He and Callan remained best friends, then he was killed. Hit by a truck on a club run. Stupid accident.” She shrugs and sighs deeply. Sadness eclipses her eyes.

“You were close?” I murmur.

“He was my first crush.” I sense her smile without having to see it. “It fucked Callan up for a long time.”

“I’m sorry.” And I mean it. Losing people is a horrible punishment for being human. Georgina’s just adrift. Being around Callan no doubt makes her feel closer to her dead husband and vice versa for Callan.

“It was a long time ago, and Georgina always played them against each other. She believed she was the reason Callan never claimed a woman.”

“Because he was in love with her?” I peek at her over my shoulder.

“Narcissist.” Kitty snorts, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear. “I think you’ll need stitches.” She pats her fingertips across some grazes on my shoulder blade.

“Did he love her?” I clutch my hands together, trying to ward off the chaos consuming me.

Exhaling, she rummages through the cabinet for a new cloth, the water now tinged red. “That’s something you’d have to ask him. I can, however, tell you this.” She turns me to face her, clutching my hands in hers. “I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. Tonight, when you left, he was so pissed at her. He made it clear there was nothing between them and called her desperate for grabbing his zipper. I don’t like the girl, but even I cringed.”

I wish I’d stuck around for that now.

“You want to tell me what’s going on with you two? Earlier, you mentioned a fiancé…”

Every part of me hurts, yet I’d still take this over marrying him. “Tyler. I ended things, but he’s not the type to let a woman go when he thinks he has a claim on her.”

Pulling the plug, she refills the sink. “I know the type. Why did you end things?”

Harley.

“My sister was found dead the night before our wedding. It kinda put things into perspective.” A stabbing ache has me rubbing my chest.

“Shit.” Her hand stills. “I’m sorry about your sister.”

Tears prick my eyes, but I hold them back. “Thanks. She saved me from that wedding.” I laugh and moan simultaneously. “You know, his mother wanted me to still go through with it? She said we’d never recoup our money from the vendors.” I want to scream thinking about that.

“She sounds like a cunt.”

I chuckle again, groaning when my ribs smart. “Want to know what’s worse? Tyler’s club slut took over, cancelled everything, and informed guests. She was amazing.” I can’t stop the hysteria overwhelming me, smothering all the pain as laughter consumes me. My fiancé’s whore took care of everything. It was as if speaking the words aloud makes them actually register with me and realize how bizarre that is.

“Because she wanted to be the one walking down that aisle.” Kitty snorts.

When I get myself under control, I swipe under my eyes and nod. “Yeah, probably. God knows why she wants to be with him. He treats her like shit. He’s an asshole.”

“Callan will kill him, Rogue.”

“What?” I gasp, turning back to face her. The drip of the tap sounding like thunder in my ears.

Concern etches her features. “If this guy doesn’t let you go, Callan will take him to ground. I just want you to be prepared for that.” Fear soaks me. That can’t happen. I don’t want that—my pulse hammers in rhythm with my spinning thoughts.

A knock on the door followed by Diamond’s voice ends the discussion. “I got everything. Let’s get you fixed up.”

“You need a doctor.” Kitty winces, squirting antiseptic cream onto her finger.

“No, I just need sleep.” My skin is a kaleidoscope of purple and blue with slashes of red scratches all over it. I look like a werewolf attacked me.

Diamond holds up a large bandage. “We’ve got you, darlin.”

* * *

My eyes creep open. My head is thick, a haze refusing to lift despite me being awake. A burning sizzles across my back, a sign that the painkillers are wearing off.

“Hey.” Callan’s voice draws my attention to him sitting beside the bed, his hair disheveled in need of a brush. His hands are clasped, dangling between his legs, elbows resting on his knees.

“How long was I out?” In just a pair of burrowed panties, I push up on Callan’s comforter and move into a sitting position. I feel like I’m a ninety-year-old pensioner, my muscles and bones protesting the movements. The memories of what happened hang over me like a rain cloud. I pull the top sheet over my chest. There are empty bottles by his chair and a couple of plates, making me wonder how long he’s been sitting there. He’s been watching over me and my heart hums with happiness at the thought.

“Two days.” My mouth drops. “Diamond woke you to take more pain meds and you went straight back out.” I don’t even remember that. “How are you feeling?” That’s a loaded question.

“Like I got thrown around by a big, scary asshole.” I chuckle, but there’s no humor there. My throat is dry. My stomach pangs with hunger.

The muscle in his jaw flickers, his hands curling into fists. “I want Doc to come in and look at you.”

“No.” I shift on the mattress, pulling the sheet tighter against me. “I’m fine. Well…I will be.” I don’t want anyone else to see me like this.

“Rogue.” He swallows, and my eyes take in the movement of his throat. The veins in his neck pulse and oddly, I find it sexy as hell. “I want to ask you something, and I don’t want you to be afraid or ashamed or…”

“What is it?”

Torment stiffens his posture. “Did he…did he…”

“No,” I grit out, my tone full of conviction, my eyes bright with truth.

His eyes lift to mine, and my heart stills. They’re glassy. His bottom lip protrudes, making him appear so young and vulnerable. Not the scary killer I know he can be. “Callan.” I reach out and stroke my palm down his face. “I promise. Larkin just roughed me up.” I know how rare it must be to see Callan this exposed. Being a stone-cold bastard, people often forget his heart beats the same as ours. I’ve felt the flutter against my cheek when in his arms. He doesn’t need to know how close it came to Larkin crossing that line.

“It fucking hurts to look at you. I’m so fucking sorry. I just wish I could take this away for you.” A lump grows in the back of my throat, and my heart swells, almost bursting.

“It’s just some bruising and scrapes. It will heal.”

Tapping a finger to my forehead, he says, “Will this?” I stifle a laugh but let out a little snort. There’s so much bullshit trauma in my head. This is just another thing I’ll overcome and learn to live with.

“He’s dead. I’m not.” I shrug, gasping in a sharp breath when pain expands over my shoulder. The wound needs a few stitches. It’s something I can do myself when I’m feeling less like death.

“What is it?” he asks, panicking as he hovers his hands over me without touching me.

“Nothing, it’s fine.”

“Rogue?” He scowls, moving away and accidentally kicking a bag at the end of the bed.

“What’s my stuff doing here?” I frown.

Turning his gaze to where I’m staring, he says, “I had Tim bring it here and check you out of that motel. It’s a shit hole and not safe.”

Irritation flares. “Don’t you think I should have made that decision and gotten my own belongings?”

“No.” He shakes his head and cuts his hand through the air.

My fingers clinch the fabric of the sheet. The photo I keep of him burning in my brain. I hope he hasn’t seen it.

“I saw the bullets.” His dark eyes bore into me, and my heart leaps.

“So, not only did you have someone bring it here, you went through it?” I bite out.

He doesn’t deny that fact. “I’m going to help you find the person responsible for your sister. And take them apart piece by piece.”

Thud.

“Still won’t admit it’s your dad,” I hedge.

Silence clings to the air until it’s almost too intense to breathe.

“I agree it’s a weird coincidence they both got attacked on the same night, but I’m sorry, Rogue. You don’t know him like I do. He wouldn’t do that to a young girl.”

I never thought I’d kill a cop, but here we are. “We all have it in us to kill, Callan.”

He stands, hands on his hips, the light casting over him. He’s so beautiful with that impeccable jawline. They should clone him so everyone can own one.

“We may all have it in us to kill, Rogue, but what happened to your sister wasn’t just murder, was it? It was rage, cruelty.”

Cold hands snake up my spine, wrapping around my throat and slowly tightening. “You think it sounds personal?” I choke out.

“It looks personal. Was she seeing anyone?”

“No. Not one person.” Harley was a free spirit—and that meant with her body too. She liked to party, to meet people, and to live.

“I have contacts looking into active serial killers,” he announces, nonchalant, like that’s normal. A serial killer.

“Seriously? But…if she got targeted and it wasn’t personal, why mutilate her tattoo?”

He clasps the back of his neck and rubs there, pacing the end of the bed. “Sometimes with serial killers, they keep things from their victims, trophies, souvenirs—something to relive the memory of the kill for them—something to try to own their victims in some way. They become part of?—”

“No.” I hold my hand out to stop him. “The animal who did this doesn’t get to keep any part of her.”

“I’m sorry.” He drops to his knees before me, clasping my thighs. “Don’t get upset.” I can’t. I’m never not upset.

“And if it turns out I’m right and it is one of your own, Callan, what will you do?”

He swallows, bringing his eyes to mine. “What I have to.”

Relief sweeps through me. I suck in a breath and swipe away a fallen tear. “I suppose, if it is your dad, there’s not much we can do about it anyway.”

I grab a glass of water from his bedside table and guzzle it down. Feeling his eyes on me, I self-consciously place the glass down and defend, “My mouth is dry.”

“There’s something you should know.” My stomach dips. Nervous bugs crawl beneath the surface of my skin.

“What is it?” A million things cycle through my head.

“I need to go on a run, but when I get back, I want to take you somewhere.”

“Where?”

Squeezing my thighs, he says, “I’d rather show you.”

“That’s ominous. Just tell me.” Placing my hand over one of his, I soak up the feel of him.

“I can’t. Rest. When I get back, I’ll show you.” His eyes dart to the bedside dresser. “Kitty charged your phone for you,” he grits out, a dark edge to his voice. No doubt, there will be messages from Tyler.

“How long will you be gone?”

“A few days. Get some food, sleep, and let yourself heal.” He kisses the top of my head and hands me something from his pocket. “In case you miss me.” He strides from the room, taking all my heat with him. The folded paper in my hand burns me with mortification. Groaning, I unfold the image of him, the creases down the center beginning to distort his face. Of course he found it.

Picking up my phone, I sigh. Five missed calls and a barrage of texts. I pull up the last one and squeeze the phone until my hand twinges in pain.

Tyler: Time is ticking, Princess.