Head Above Water (Nightshade MC Book 4) (20 page)

Monroe heard it too, turned towards the door as it swung open. The shot Monroe fired echoed through the room. Drea could only hear a ringing in her ears as her legs finally decided to work. She got to her feet, walked towards the man writhing in pain on the floor. “I don't recognize him,” she said as the ringing in her ears lessened.

“Neither do I,” Monroe replied. “I'd like to know where he got a key from.”

“I'd like to know who he is.” Drea grabbed her gun from the table near the now useless phone and walked to stand over the man. “Start talking. Who sent you?”

“Fuck you,” he rasped. Spittle laced with blood flew from his lips. “Not telling you shit.”

“Oh, you'll tell me.” Drea crouched down next to him. “Do you know who I am? Who my uncle was?”

“Eat a dick,” he replied. The man gasped loudly and then his chest stopped moving altogether. He was dead, and he hadn't given them any answers.

Monroe squatted down on the other side of the man, began to search his pockets. “He's got no wallet, no ID, there's just a set of car keys. Drea, are you with me?”

“I'm here. I'm okay.” She'd expected to see Frankie or maybe even Matt on the other side of the door. “I don't think it was the lenders. If it was the lenders, I'm pretty sure that we'd be dead already.” They would have sent someone like Uncle Tony, someone who knew what they were doing. “It's got to be Frankie.”

“I told you, this could easily be about me and Nightshade. Right now, we need to figure out exactly what we're going to do with our uninvited guest. We can't just leave him here. Go in the kitchen and get some of the trash bags from under the sink. We've got work to do.”

Drea found the trash bags, cleaning supplies and a mop and bucket in the pantry. Monroe insisted on doing most of the heavy lifting when it came to the body, and she didn't object. Her mind was still stuck on just how much blood there was. It seemed to her that it was too much blood to fit inside of one body. The wooden floor was dark where it had pooled, the cracks filled with the thickening substance. It seemed impossible that the bleach and imitation pine-scented cleaner she'd found would be enough to get it all up, but she had to make it work.

She was on her knees, scrubbing with all the strength she had left, when she heard the familiar sound of a motorcycle engine and then another. Monroe had heard it, too, because when she stepped out on the front porch, gun in hand, he emerged from the woods carrying both the shovel he was using to bury the body and the hunting rifle.

The bikes pulled up in front of the cabin, and Drea immediately recognized the riders. It was Bones and the new prospect, Shawn. Drea didn't have much of an opinion on either man. Bones was quiet, and she wasn't sure that she'd ever actually heard Shawn speak. They dismounted, started over and there was no mistaking the grave look on both of their faces. Something had happened. Something besides the events in the cabin, which they couldn't have any way to know about.

Drea felt her stomach turn sickly, slowly because she knew that whatever they had to say wasn't going to be good. Monroe seemed to know it, too. She stayed where she was; her stupid legs wouldn't move again as Monroe approached the two men. While she was too far away from them to hear the words, the tone of the conversation was a serious one.

When Monroe dropped the shovel, she knew that something bad had happened, something worse than the dead stranger in the cabin. It felt like she'd be intruding if she went over, so Drea went back into the cabin and started a pot of coffee. Coffee was always good. She was taking cups out of the cabinet when the men came inside.

She expected them to come into the kitchen, but only Monroe did. He stood in the doorway. “Shawn rode back to where there's cell service. He's going to get someone else to come up with a truck so we can all get the hell out of here. We need to get back to Detroit.”

Drea could sense a change in him as well as see it. There was a darkness in his eyes that sent a chill down her spine. “What happened? Tell me.”

“The clubhouse and Sugar Sugar were robbed today,” he replied. “Whoever it was got into the safe in both places, got everything inside. A woman in the building across from Sugar Sugar saw them, called Caroline. Ace was the closest.”

Drea's heart stopped beating in her chest. Ace was one of her favorite members of Nightshade, mostly because it gave her a warm and fuzzy feeling to see him with Jillian. “Is he okay?”

“He got pulled over before he could get there. The cops found two a gunand some cocaine in the storage compartment on his bike.  Ballistics onthe guns showed that it was used in a murder. The lab work was rushed, the cop who pulled him over has a hard on for Nightshade. It doesn't look good.”

“No,” Drea gasped.

“The gun was a plant, I don't know if it was the cop or someone put it there before everything went down, because they knew that he would be the first to get there. I don't know. I don't fucking know.” Monroe was nearly shouting, to say he was upset was an understatement. He turned around, swung his fist and put a hole in the kitchen wall.

Her heart broke as he just stood there. Drea moved forward, laid her hand on his back. He flinched away from the touch, but she held her ground. “I'm sorry,” she said softly. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

“I don't know,” he answered. “I really don't know. I need to go out and finish up with our visitor before the animals undo all my hard work so far.”

“I can help.”

“You don't have to.”

“I know that. We're in this together, though, even if we're under water.” Drea held her breath, not sure how he was going to react. Finally, she felt some of the tension in his back dissipate. “I love you.” She stepped closer to him, wrapped her arms around him from behind and closed her eyes.

Chapter Fourteen

The mood was grim as Monroe joined his brothers at the table. “Glad to see you here and whole, Monroe,” Buster spoke up. “Sit, let's bring you totally up to speed.”

An alarm bell rang deep inside Monroe. He'd thought that he'd been brought up to speed by Bones and Shawn. He should have known with the prospect being involved he hadn't gotten the whole story. “What's going on?”

“The robbery was made possible by a little piece of code,” Bones told him. “It was attached to a picture file, once the picture was opened the code was able to allow someone in a remote location to access everything. It made simply turning off the security systems possible right under our noses.” He rose, walked over to the cabinet near the wall and took a folder out. “This was the picture that was opened.”

Monroe took the sheet of glossy paper and stared at it for a second. “This is a coupon for Love and Lace.”

“Yes it is,” Buster said grimly. “Claire checked her email on one of the computers, opened the file, and why wouldn't she, fifty percent off is one hell of a deal.”

“Are you trying to say that Drea had something to do with this?” Monroe set the coupon down.

“It's her coupon, sent from the official Love and Lace email. The really interesting thing is according to the information on the initial email, it was only sent to Claire,” Train spoke up. “She also knew where the two of you were going and someone showed up there seemingly intent on killing you, torched your truck and everything.”

“She didn't know where we were going. Sure, she knew that we were going to a cabin, but not the exact location of it. She was scared when everything went down,” he said, the look in her eyes, even as she bucked up and did what needed to be done, had terrified him. Monroe refused to even entertain the idea that Drea had a part in it. She wouldn't. She couldn't. “And she's not computer minded, trust me when I tell you that she couldn't write code if she tried.”

“Someone wrote the code. Someone used Drea's email address to send the damn thing. If it wasn't her, who?” Train was no fan of Drea because of Meg and her reaction to the opening of GP, but Monroe hadn't expected that he'd be more rational. “I say that we sit the bitch down and ask the hard questions, however we need to ask them.”

Monroe was on his feet the minute the word bitch was spoken. “No one is sitting her down or doing anything. In case you've forgotten, she's with me.”

“Last time I checked, she didn't have your mark,” Train snarled. “And it wouldn't be the first time that you were wrong about a woman.”

Monroe moved forward then, intent on taking Train's head off, but then there were numerous hands on him, on both of them, pulling them apart. “Enough. The two of you want to knock each other around, do it another time!,” Buster shouted. “For what it's worth, I'll be surprised if Drea is behind this. I think Monroe's right.”

“Then who was it?” Train demanded.

“I think it's Frankie,” Caesar spoke up. “It seems like everyone forgot about him. He fucked her with the money he owed, why wouldn't he fuck her with this? He was still around at the time. I remember seeing him at Love and Lace one of the last times I was there before she closed.”

“Drea thought that it could be Frankie at the cabin, or the lenders, but she said we'd have been dead if it was them. For what it's worth, I'm inclined to believe her on that.”

“Anyone know where Frankie is?” Buster asked.

“Not a clue,” Monroe answered. “Far as I know, he took off for greener pastures when Drea edged him out of GP.”

“Bones and Einstein, see what you can find out about where he is now. Monroe, there was no ID on the guy you shot at the cabin?”

“No but I took a couple of pictures of his ink with my burner,” he said as he fished in his pocket and pulled out the device. “Most of it looks like flash stuff but maybe it'll ring a bell for someone.”

“Alright, that's better than nothing,” Buster said with a sigh. “Next matter of business is Ace. I spoke to the lawyer. Bail is going to be set, but it's going to be high. The gun that was in the car was linked to the murder and robbery of an elderly couple. They want to charge him with it and for intent to distribute with the drugs.”

“Jesus,” Monroe muttered. “Whoever robbed us had to plant that shit, had to know that he'd be the first to respond. If they're in the computers, they know everything about us, don't they?”

“Not everything,” Einstein corrected. “There's only so much that we put on the computer. It's more of the legit stuff, charity runs, and the NS Construction files are also on the same server. I think that they'd have had to supplement what they found in the system with actual recon, which means that someone saw them.”

“Find someone who saw them. Talk to everyone,” Buster ordered.

“How's Jillian holding up?” Monroe couldn't imagine that she was doing well.

“She's not,” Train replied. “Meg went by there earlier. She wouldn't open the door.”

“Caroline tried calling her, left messages that she should come and stay with us, but she's heard nothing. I sent Justin to sit on the place earlier. She opened the door but wouldn't let him in. I'm concerned.”

“You've got good reason to be,” Train chimed in. “She's broken, always has been. If she finds out that Ace isn't coming home, we're going to need to lock her in a padded room.”

“I'll go and talk to her,” Caesar offered.

“I think that I should do it,” Einstein cleared his throat. “We're friends. I've been at their place a lot lately. I think that she'll talk to me.”

“Go to her. Let us know what happens. She's got an open invitation to stay at our place,” Buster said. “Make sure that she knows that.”

“I will. I'll head over as soon as we're done here.”

“We're done. I'll let everyone know when I hear from the lawyer. Once bail is set, we'll take care of it.” Buster looked around the room. “Right now, we all need to be on high alert. Serious high alert. Who knows what's going to happen next?”

Monroe couldn't shake the sick feeling in his stomach even once the meeting was over and he was back downstairs. They'd come straight from the cabin; he'd left Drea downstairs, but he couldn't find her. “Hey,” he called out to one of the new pass-arounds, he couldn't remember her name. “Have you seen Drea?” She gave him a blank look. “My old lady?”

“She left,” Claire interrupted. “About five minutes after you guys all went upstairs. You want a drink or something?”

“No,” Monroe replied. “Why did she leave?”

“I don't know, didn't ask.” Claire smiled brightly. “Caroline was feeling a little under the weather today, so I'm in charge of making dinner. I made steak, just the way that you like it.”

“No, thanks.” Monroe didn't spare her another glance as he started for the door. He dug out his phone, called Drea, got her voicemail and didn't leave a message. He called back and she answered on the first ring. “Hey, where'd you go?”

“I didn't know how long you were going to be so I'm at GP, checking messages and trying to catch up a little because if I stayed at the clubhouse, I was going to put Claire's head through a wall. Do you realize that she's in love with you?”

“That's ridiculous,” Monroe replied even as he admitted to himself that it wasn't. She wouldn't be the first pass-around with dreams of being branded and a full fledged old lady. It was why he'd always varied his choice until that one week after Maggie. Since then, she'd pushed up extra hard, even though he continued to turn her down.

Drea responded with a snort. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that, buddy. Anyway, I figured that it was better to get some work done. I've got like a thousand emails that I still haven't looked at.”

“I'll meet you at GP,” he offered. “Let me run home and get my bike. We can take a ride later before we go home.”

“Take your time. I've got so much shit to do here. I want to cry. I'm writing an advertisement for a secretary/receptionist tomorrow.”

“It's about time,” he told her. “You want me to bring you anything?”

“No. Wait, bring me a burger. A chili cheeseburger and those fries that I like.”

“That sounds perfect. Give me an hour.”

“See you then. Love you.”

“Love you too, hon. See you soon.” Monroe ended the call and turned back towards the building. He spotted Einstein walking towards his bike. He hoped that Jillian would talk to him and that she was okay. There weren't many things that he agreed with Train on, but the fact that Jillian was broken was undeniable. She'd been broken long before she got involved with Ace, and during the war with The Wild Cards, she'd suffered things no one should. Monroe couldn't imagine what she was like without Ace around.

“Monroe!”

He sighed at the sound of Claire's voice, turned to see her coming towards him. “What, Claire?”

“Can we talk?” She stopped a few feet shy of him. “There's something that I need to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“Can we go somewhere more private?”

“No one else is out here but us,” he pointed out. “Say your piece, I've got things to do,” Monroe said cooly, not wanting to give her any encouragement.

She took a deep breath in, exhaled dramatically. “I'm pregnant.”

“Good for you,” he replied. “What does that have to do with me?”

“It's yours.”

“We used condoms, Claire, and you were supposed to be on the pill.”

“And I was, but then I got an ear infection and needed to be on antibiotics. And we didn't always use condoms, there were a few times when we were drunk, really drunk. You just felt so good inside of me, I couldn't tell you no. No one told me that the antibiotics would cancel out the pill.” She looked up at him. “I was going to have an abortion, Monroe. I tried but I couldn't. I can't.”

Monroe had no memory of being inside of her bare; his cock shriveled at the thought. He knew that he'd been drunk but had he been that drunk? Anything was possible, but this could not be happening to him. Not now when everything was fucked up to begin with. “You expect me to just believe you?”

“No. I've got an appointment tomorrow. The doctor can tell you how she knows exactly when I got pregnant and you can see the baby on an ultrasound. This isn't how I wanted to tell you. I thought that...”

“Stop. Just tell me when the appointment is and go, Claire,” Monroe told her. She reached into her bra, removed a business card and handed it to him. He waited until she'd walked away to look down at it. It was a card for a doctor's office with the appointment date and time listed on it. He took out his wallet, tucked the card inside and started to walk.

He'd intended to go home, get his bike and grab dinner to share with Drea but instead of heading towards Mac and Cheese for the burger, he found himself heading to the cemetery. It had been a while since he'd been there, longer than he'd ever gone since losing them. Since he'd met Drea, he hadn't felt the same compulsion to be there as much as he could. A day didn't pass that he didn't think of them, but when he did, it hurt less.

Someone, it had to be Amelia, had left a cheerful bouquet of sunflowers against the base of the stone. Monroe sat on the bench across from the grave. It was a beautiful spot; he knew that comforted Amelia. She felt her sister and niece there. He still didn't, but seeing their names gave him a sense of peace.

Claire was pregnant. Monroe had no doubt of that; when he looked at her he could see subtle physical changes. Combined with the appointment card now in his wallet, he knew that she wasn't lying. It didn't mean that the kid was his, but it also didn't mean it wasn't. And what if it was?

There was no way he could turn his back on his child, or be the sort of father who simply sent a support payment every month. As far back as he could remember, he'd wanted the whole family experience, but now he knew that he wanted all of it with Drea. Monroe wanted to see her with their child growing inside of her, not Claire.

Anger surged through him, at himself for being stupid enough to fuck Claire without being protected and at fate for letting things shake out the way that they were. For the first time in forever, he had a chance to have what he wanted with a woman he loved more than he'd thought possible, and now that chance might turn into a missed opportunity.

Monroe sat there for a long time, not even realizing how much time had passed until his phone began to ring. He was several hours late for bringing Drea dinner. “Sorry,” he said as he answered. “I lost track of time. I'll be there in fifteen, we'll go and get the burger together. Have a nice dinner.”

“If you've got Nightshade stuff, it's okay. Really. I've got hundreds of things to do here.”

“No, I'll be there. I promise.”

“Are you okay? You sound weird.”

“I'm not hurt,” he replied since he knew that was the first place that her mind would go. “We need to talk, though.”

“No conversation that starts with 'we need to talk' ever ends well,” she observed. “Tell me now.”

“This is for in person, not the phone.”

“And that makes it worse. When are you going to be here?”

“Fifteen minutes, tops.”

“I wish you'd have waited until you were here to tell me that we had something to talk about.” Drea ended the call without another word.