Rock nods. “Now that we know Merlin’s involved somehow, it’s probably better if you don’t go.”
We’re interrupted by Murphy and Wrath showing up. Wrath demands an immediate briefing on all the information I have.
Heidi and Trinity must have come too. I hear their gentler voices offering assurances to Charlotte that everything will be okay.
Will it, though? We don’t even know what we’re dealing with.
Why Carter?
He’s mouthy, no doubt. Did he piss someone off at the tattoo shop? Not everyone finds his sarcastic jabs as amusing as I do. If it’s another MC, it’s a pussy fucking thing to do. You got beef with me, come at me. Or come at the club. But not my family.
Carter’s innocent and goofy face flashes in my head. I promised I’d look out for him. He was in my club’s territory. He should’ve been safe.
“Teller.” Rock snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Stay focused. Now isn’t the time to spiral into blaming yourself.”
How’d he know that’s where my mind went?
“Who would take Carter?” Murphy asks, concern bleeding into his voice. As much as he loves ragging on Carter, I know he thinks of him as a little brother same as I do.
“I don’t know. Bianca didn’t have a lot of details. She’s stuck talking to Empire PD.”
“This is bad.” Wrath runs his hands over his hair. His gaze slips to Rock. “We can’t get bogged down dealing with cops. We gotta find him fast.”
Z walks into the kitchen, lifts his chin at me, but doesn’t say anything.
“Can’t be Wolf Knights. They’re gone from Slater,” Murphy says. “And they sure as fuck wouldn’t go after family. Asshole or not, Merlin’s still a patched brother.”
“Just because it’s not a Wolf Knight doesn’t mean it’s not connected to them,” Rock points out. “Merlin was dealing with all sorts of shady folk.”
“That’s done,” I say. “Or it should be.”
Murphy runs his hand over the scar on his scalp. “I’m not so sure we got every fucker involved in what happened to me. And that was the same club Merlin was dealing with.”
“Remy said they haven’t had issues at the racetrack since that went down,” Z says.
“Chaser’s brother wanted to start moving cargo through our territory,” Murphy reminds us. “Maybe Quill didn’t like the limitations we slapped on his business.”
Rock shakes his head. “He took responsibility for the member of his crew that went after Serena. He made it right.”
“He executed him right in front of us.” Z points a finger-gun at the floor and pulls the trigger. “Besides, why come after Carter, of all people, now?”
Murphy holds up his hands. “I’m trying to think of all possible scenarios.”
“No, you’re right,” Rock says. “We need to list every possible threat so we can rule them out one by one.”
“We don’t have time for that,” I growl. We need to do something now.
A tap at the side door draws our attention. Through the glass, I make out Dex’s tall frame and shout for him to come in.
“What’s going on?” He pants as if he ran here instead of rode his bike. “I got here as fast as I could. Malik’s watching Crystal Ball but said he’ll close up early if we want him to.”
“No, better he stay there and keep an eye on the girls,” Rock says.
My gaze drops to a small box in Dex’s hands. “What’s that?”
He holds out the white cardboard box. It’s no bigger than something you’d stick a fancy coffee mug in to give as a gift to someone. “Charlotte Clark” is written on top in bold, black letters.
My stomach drops.
Dex bites the inside of his cheek as if he doesn’t want to say where the box came from. “It was sitting on my bike when I left Crystal Ball.”
“Why the fuck would anyone leave something for Charlotte there?” Murphy explodes.
“How would they even know that’s a way to get something to her?” Wrath asks.
This is bad. This is so, so bad.
I take the box from Dex’s hand.
“Don’t let her open that,” Murphy says. “You don’t know what it is.”
“I don’t know what what is?” Charlotte asks, standing in the hallway. Trinity and Heidi stand behind her. “I heard my name.”
Charlotte’s gaze drops to the box in my hands. Her body trembles. “What is that?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Someone left it at Crystal Ball?” She steps closer. “My name is on it.” She snatches it from me and runs her nail over the tape holding the top closed.
“Charlotte, don’t,” Rock warns.
She ignores him and flips open the top. It’s not like any of us are going to tackle her.
“What is that…” She gulps and her eyes bug. “Is that a…toe? Oh my God!” Charlotte screams. The package goes flying across the room. “Carter,” she whispers. “Oh my God. Did they do that to Carter?”
“What the fuck?” Wrath shouts.
“Shit,” Murphy whispers.
Rock returns with the box. A note’s scribbled on the underside of the top flap.
Tell Merlin to answer his phone.
Each missed call, he loses another part.
Wrath steps up next to Rock and gingerly takes the box out of his hands. “Well, that narrows down our list. Got something to do with Merlin’s misdeeds, not ours.”
I meet his grim stare, then Rock’s, then Murphy’s. “Time to make them bleed.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Teller
Rage is only helpful if it doesn’t cloud my ability to form a plan of attack. I take a breath, forcing air into my lungs. Clear head. Singular purpose.
Save Carter.
Punish anyone who hurt him.
There’s a hesitant knock on the front door. I count the brothers in front of me. Rooster, Grinder, and Jigsaw have all slipped into the house at some point.
That only leaves one person who should be at the front door.
Merlin.
Wrath leaves the kitchen to let him in.
The second Merlin’s rusty voice hits my ears, I’m on the move.
My boots rapidly clunk over the hardwood as I storm down the hallway.
It’s been a couple of years, but I’d recognize this gnarled jerk anywhere.
He opens his mouth to greet me.
In two smooth movements, I whip my forearm against his neck, pressing him backward until he hits the wall. He lets out a surprised gasp for air.
I slip my hunting knife out of the sheath by my hip and press the tip under his chin, cocking his head at an awkward angle.
“You piece of shit,” I snarl. “This is on you.”
He holds his hands up in surrender. “Hello to you too, Teller.”
“Don’t get fucking cute with me.” I dig the tip of the knife deeper into his flesh, not yet drawing blood, but close. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t slit your throat.”
He doesn’t flinch. “I got none.”