Trouble Walked In Page 8

  He pulled open the door of his office and ran directly in to Ty and Sarge. Sarge immediately reached out and said, “I know what you're thinkin'. Don't do it. You're not gonna do your woman any good in jail.”

  It took Ronan a second to see past the blinding rage, but his wolf seemed to register Sarge's words. The second that part of him settled, all that was left was fear. “They took her,” he said quietly. “She's my mate and I couldn't even protect her.”

  Ty shook his head and asked, “If you would have done what you wanted, we wouldn't have been able to even bail you out of jail, Ronan. We'll help you get her back. I called a lawyer friend of mine while you were passed out. Remember Lindy? I have her looking into the legality of it all.”

  Ronan narrowed his eyes and asked, “Why the fuck was I passed out? What did you do?”

  Sarge answered. “Cold-cocked you. I'd do it again in a heartbeat. You were about to shift in front of those cops, Ronan. Couldn't have that.”

  Before he could think better of it, he reared back and slugged Sarge as hard as he could in the face. Fucking prick. “You son of a bitch. My ears are still fucking ringing!”

  He merely grunted and asked, “Feel better now? I hope so ‘cause that's your only free shot ever. Got it?”

  Better? No. If anything, he felt worse than he had before. Now he added the guilt of hitting a friend on top of the yawning ache he felt in his chest. He sighed.

  “No,” he said miserably. “Christ. I need to figure out how to fix this. I need Moira. I swear to fucking God, if he wasn't the goddamned mayor, they'd never find his body!”

  “Slow down, Ronan,” Ty cautioned. “I know you're pissed. I know you're scared. We're gonna fix this.”

  “Who's watching the bar right now?” Ronan asked a moment later. “Jesus. They're probably drinkin' straight out of the bottle, Ty!”

  Not that it fucking mattered anyway. Everything else was shit, so why not the bar too? Ronan slumped against the wall. What was he going to do? Poor Moira. He couldn't even imagine how scared she was right now. He'd flipped out after they tased her. He prayed that she was okay. He wasn't exactly a religious man, but still.

  Ty snorted. “I closed the bar early, boss. Everyone was threatening to break down the mayor's door with torches and pitchforks. Sarge had to threaten the ones that stayed to within an inch of their lives. I know she's new around here, boss, but everybody in this disjointed little community of ours loves her already. She's one of us. We're gonna get her back.”

  Ronan felt his eyes fill. Jesus. He needed to get his shit together. This wasn't helping Moira in the least. He wiped at his eyes with the heels of his palm. “I have no idea what to do.”

  “About that,” Ty said. “I might have something there. When I told Lindy the story, her first comment was about the fact that it was Lorelei PD. This isn't their jurisdiction. I don't know what exactly that means yet. Maybe they were able to get some sort of permission to do this. I don't know what kind of hold the mayor has on Polk County PD, though. She said she'd look into getting a copy of the form along with the report.”

  “Thank you,” Ronan said, feeling some of the pain in his chest ease. “I don't think that will be enough to stop her father, though. The other day, he called twenty times in a half hour. She ended up having to block him. I wish the fucker would have left a voicemail so we'd have something on tape! Fuck!”

  “This guy thinks he owns her. He's powerful and a little fucking crazy to do this sort of shit to his own kid. That's a real bad combination,” Sarge grumbled. “You can't just go and threaten a man like that with physical force. You gotta speak his language.”

  Ronan frowned. None of this speculation was going to help Moira. “I have no idea what his fucking language is. Part of me just wants to tear him apart. Even if she wasn't my mate, what sort of sorry son of a bitch would have his obviously not crazy daughter committed because she didn't wanna marry a stranger?”

  “Wait, what?” Ty asked.

  “Yeah,” Ronan said. “Her father wanted her to marry some guy in the state senate. Ben Mason. I think she said he was running for governor this next term. She came home from college on summer break and her father told her he was going to announce her engagement.”

  “The orange guy with the dumb commercials?”

  Before Ronan could respond, Sarge piped up. “Well, I think I just figured out what language this bastard speaks. I think I've got an idea.”

  ****

  He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. Christ. He hadn't been this nervous since he'd asked Marsha Merino to prom in eleventh grade. The stakes were so much higher this time. It had been almost forty-eight hours since Moira had been locked up. Technically, by law they could only keep her locked up for seventy-two hours without filing an additional injunction to keep her in state custody.

  While he knew it would be a tougher sell for her father to get her permanently locked up, there was no way in hell he would take the chance. With her final paycheck in hand, he made his way into City Hall. He fidgeted with the button hole camera he wore once more and prayed that Sarge knew what the hell he was doing.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket as he was scanning the directory of offices. Absently, he pulled it out and read, “Stop fidgeting and do it!” Rolling his eyes, he slid the phone back into his pocket and made his way to the fifth floor. It was now or never.

  He tried to project an aura of calm that he didn't feel when he approached the secretary. She eyed his casual attire with distaste and asked, “May I help you?”

  “Yes'm,” he answered, turning on every bit of southern charm that he possessed. “My name is Ronan Kelly. I'd like to have a moment with the mayor, if I could. I needed to drop something off to him.”

  The tiny smirk on her face had his heart sinking. “You can leave it with me, and I'll be sure to give it to him.”

  No longer playing nice, he said, “All due respect, ma'am, I won't. It's his daughter's final paycheck. I'm not leaving it with you. I'd like to give it directly to him. I'll wait until he becomes available.”

  “Sir,” she began. “You need to make an appointment. I assure you I'm not going to steal a check. You—”

  “Jeanie. Jeanie,” a voice said from down the hallway. “I'll handle this.”

  When the mayor moved into the lobby, he asked, “So you said you have my daughter's final check?”

  John Devereaux was a politician if he'd ever seen one. Dress slacks and a dress shirt with a tie, sleeves rolled up in an attempt to appear more casual. His dark hair was styled to within an inch of its life. Clean-shaven. Wide smile with abnormally white teeth. Ronan wanted nothing more than to plow his fist into that smug face. He couldn't do that, though.

  “I do. But I wondered if I might have a minute of your time. I have something I'd like to discuss with you,” Ronan answered. The entire plan hinged on this moment. If he couldn't get this asshole talking, Moira was probably going to remain locked away for the duration. There was no way he could allow that to happen.

  “Sure. Hold my calls, Jeanie. Come into my office,” John Devereaux invited, gesturing him forward.

  Ronan followed him down the hallway and into the small office. He sat down in one of the chairs, startled to hear the door close. Was the mayor concerned about what might be overheard?

  “So, Mr. Kelly. What can I do for you?”

  Doing his dead level best to seem contrite, Ronan cleared his throat and said, “I wanted to make an apology. I feel as though I inadvertently ended up in your family troubles, Mr. Mayor, and that wasn't my intention.”

  “I'm not sure what you mean, son,” the mayor answered carefully.

  “Look. I may not be a fancy politician, but I'm not stupid. When your daughter showed up at my bar the other night claiming she couldn't go home, I felt sorry for her. I gave her a job and a place to stay. Less than two weeks later, I've got Code Enforcement crawling up my ass, and cops show up in my bar to take my cocktail waitress into custody for psy
chological testing because she's a danger to society. Later, I find out that this girl, who both you and I know ain't the least bit crazy, is the daughter of the mayor. We'll just say that I don't believe in those types of coincidences.”

  The mayor rubbed a hand over his face and said, “I don't know what you're suggesting—”

  Ronan held his hands up in surrender and said, “Not suggesting a thing, sir. I'm just callin' it how I see it. It doesn't make a bit of difference to me how you handle your family disputes. She was a shitty waitress anyway. Rude to the customers.”

  The mayor smirked and said, “Not surprising. In any case, she's going to a top-notch facility. I'm certain they'll be able to...fix that particular bad habit of hers.”

  “Hope so,” Ronan said, his stomach turning. “She's gonna have a hard time in this world. Didn't listen worth a damn either. I'm sure you knew that already, though.”

  His eyes more shrewd, more focused, Moira's father steepled his fingers in disappointment. “She always was a willful child. In any case, if you want to leave her check here, once she's well again, I'll be sure to get it to her.”

  “Sure thing. Again,” Ronan said, standing. “I didn't realize what I was involved in. My apologies for any inconvenience I might have created.”

  Ronan watched as the mayor relaxed back in his chair, a smug grin on his face. “Now, don't you worry about it, son. I've got no ill will toward you. She can be mighty persuasive when she wants, I’m sure.”

  The acid churned in his belly. How could a man so hate his own flesh and blood? It was practically tangible the feeling was so strong. Ronan nodded and, as graciously as he could muster, pressed one last time. “I appreciate your understanding. There's one thing I don't get, though. The cops were so brutal. They hurt her. Bad. Slammed her head against the ground. They tased her for resisting. That's a bit extreme for your own blood, wouldn't you say?”

  The thin veneer gone, her father seethed with rage. “The little bitch embarrassed me in front of a very important colleague. She went slumming in your goddamned bar for weeks and wouldn't take my phone calls. They got rough because I told them to get rough. I bet next time she'll do what I tell her to. Won't she? One way or another, she had to learn. I'm not someone you want to fuck with.”

  Ronan had to swallow down the bile in his throat and take a breath before he could even respond. This son of a bitch was a piece of work. Careful to keep the disgust from his tone, he merely raised an eyebrow. “I'll just overlook the fact that you accused her of 'slumming' in my bar and give you her check. Do you want the bag of clothes she left at my place or should I just throw it out?”

  “I doubt she'll have need of it any time soon. Something tells me she's gonna be locked up a long time. Toss it,” he answered, taking the check from Ronan's outstretched hand.

  All at once, Moira's father seemed to come back to himself. The monster was gone and the polite mask slipped back into place. “Thank you for stopping in, Mr. Kelly. I'll be sure to see that Moira gets this when she's well again.”

  “Good enough,” Ronan said, confused by the instant shift in mood. “I can see myself out. Thank you for your time.”

  The mayor gave him a genial smile. Perhaps he didn't realize or perhaps didn't care that he'd openly admitted to institutionalizing his daughter to punish her for disobeying him. This guy was more fucked up than Ronan could have ever imagined.

  After giving Moira's father what he hoped was some semblance of a smile and a casual wave, he walked out of the office. His heart pounding, he released the first easy breath he'd had since he woke up in his office on the couch two days ago. He certainly hoped that the audio and video were clear because John Devereaux had just dug his own grave.

  Smiling at the scowling secretary, he grabbed a business card off her desk as he breezed out the door. Despite the hope that was perilously close to the surface, Ronan's hands were shaking on the way back to his truck. He slid into the driver's side and looked at Sarge. “Goddamn, I hope that camera of yours worked. That motherfucker makes me sick to my stomach.”

  “Well, let's see. Gimme the thumb drive,” Sarge said, booting up his laptop.

  Ronan unbuttoned his shirt and popped the camera out. “There ya go. You can forward to the last few minutes of it.”

  He watched as Sarge copied the data from the memory stick. They both sat there in silence as the video played. The audio was crisp. The picture was clear. Mayor Devereaux had just damned himself on film. Ronan had the all of the leverage that he needed. It was time to go send John Devereaux an email he wouldn't be likely to forget.

  ****

  Sarge and Ty sat with him in his apartment, waiting. It had been hours since the email had been sent. The television was on, but no one paid it any mind. The silence was punctuated with small bursts of conversation, but the tension was palpable. When his phone finally did ring, the three of them jumped in unison.

  “Hello?” Ronan answered on the third ring.

  “You son of a bitch—”

  “I don't have time to play games with you. Here's how this is going to work. You're gonna get Moira out of the facility she's in as soon as you fucking manage it. You're never going to bother her, myself, or anyone that I know ever again or the fifteen copies of this fucking video I've got floating around are going to hit every single media source known to man, you piece of shit. Make it happen tonight or this goes national.”

  “You little punk. You've got no idea who you're dealing with—”

  “No. You've got no idea who the fuck you're dealing with. I want it done tonight. And just in case that little video isn't enough of an incentive for you do what I told you to, you should also know that I have a copy of the falsified police report. Oddly, it says that she was apprehended at the hotel inside Lorelei city limits. I've got about fifty witnesses that will claim otherwise along with security footage of the incident from inside the bar. How long do you think your city cops would be willing to lie once internal affairs gets on their ass?”

  After a moment of silence, he finally responded. “I'm sure the media would be interested in your little secret, Mr. Kelly.”

  Christ. This guy was desperate. “What secret?”

  “Don't play dumb with me. I'll tell the world about you and your shape-shifting buddies!”

  Ronan let his deep laughter fill the room. “Shape-shifter? You need to lay off the peyote, you sad son of a bitch. Do you have any idea how crazy you sound right now? You go ahead and alert the media, but don't be surprised if you get yourself Baker Acted this time. Just get her out. Tonight.”

  “I-I don't know if I can make anything happen tonight.”

  “You better work it out. And just in case you were wondering, this is how you know that I'm not someone you want to fuck with. You be sure and call me when it's done, John,” he ordered, disconnecting the line.

  He dropped his cell phone. “Asshole.”

  Both Ty and Sarge were already standing up. Ty spoke first. “Bar open tomorrow? I'll cover things. I'm sure you guys are gonna need some time.”

  Ronan nodded, clapping him on the back. “Thank you, Ty. Sarge. Both of you. You don't even understand.”

  Sarge waved him off and said, “I'd have missed her sassy mouth anyway.”

  “Mine,” he warned, growling.

  “I know she is,” Sarge said, his lips twitching. “After all this, you think I'd try and take your woman? We're like family. Albeit dysfunctional.”

  “When you find your mate, you'll understand, my brother. Thank you,” he answered, leaning forward to give Sarge the manliest hug he could muster.

  Sarge froze awkwardly and said, “Gonna head out now. Too much fucking hugging. Tell your girl I said welcome home.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Moira had been locked in this room for over two days now. With the exception of the orderly who slipped food under the door, she hadn't seen anyone at all since her intake. Someone had physically checked her over, and aside from the bruises f
rom the taser and a slight concussion from when her head slammed into the floor of the bar, she'd been deemed physically healthy.

  She had no doubt that her father was behind this. There would be no evaluation. This was her punishment for defying him. God only knew how long it would last. The worst part in all of this was that she missed Ronan rather desperately. The tangible connection to him that she felt in his presence was missing. It left her feeling hollow.

  When Sarge had knocked him out at the bar to get him to stop fighting, she was pretty sure he'd been ready to shift. While she appreciated Ronan's need to protect her, that would have been suicide for him. If they would tase an unarmed woman, she had no doubt the cops would have gunned him down without a second thought. The thought left a pit in her stomach.

  Those cops were a couple of assholes. She sincerely hoped she'd have an opportunity to file a complaint. Not only did they use unnecessary force, but the quiet one had copped a feel as he was putting her in the car. Her entire body had been aching, so they ended up carrying her out of the bar. She had been conscious during most of the mortifying scene, though.

  Then again, what people she wasn't going to see again thought of her wasn't that important. Right now, she had to focus on getting someone to help her. She needed to talk to somebody. Anybody. She would keep on telling her story until someone believed her.

  Christ. She had nothing but time to think in here. She regretted not telling Ronan that she loved him. If she ever saw him again, that would be the first thing she would tell him. Future be damned, she didn't care what she did as long as she could do it with him. Any future with him would do just fine.

  She looked around the empty room. The least they could have done was leave her a book or something. All this emptiness and time to think might be the thing that really drove her insane.