Damon:A Bad Boy MC Romance Novel(25)

     



 

This time, he was the one to look away, his jaw set rigid. His hands  fisted. Tricia saw, for a flashing second, the man underneath the man.  The violent one, the unsettled one, the one whose soul would never be  completely calm, no matter how well he hid the storm. She saw the boy.

"You won't be," he said, rising from the seat. She wanted to grab his  hand, pull him back down, ask him to stay. They didn't have to talk  about it anymore, they could talk about something else. Anything else.  Just as long as he didn't leave like this, in anger. "I wish you could  be, but you can't. You're everything I want, Tricia … "

His voice trailed off. He pulled a fifty from his wallet and threw it on the table. Only then did he look at her again.

"But I can't give you everything I want to, I can't be the man I want to be for you, until this is done."

"It'll never be done," Tricia said, speaking quickly in hopes it would  give him pause. "It'll never be done until you let it be done. And going  after him isn't how you let it be done. It's not how you let go."

"Tell that to the woman he attacked," Damon said, shaking his head. "Tell that to her. Tell her he doesn't deserve to … "

His voice trailed off again, and Tricia felt cold in her stomach.

He's not just planning to fight him, she realized. He's planning to kill him.

"I'm going to take a walk," he said. "I'll see you back at the room."

"Damon, don't … "

But he was already gone.

For the first time, Tricia wondered how much he'd ever really been there  to begin with. They'd sat next to each other, been with each other  pretty much exclusively, for days now. They'd made love. But he'd never  been fully there. Not while he was keeping this inside. Not while he was  keeping it from her.





27





Jenner knew this was his chance. After he was ushered back to his room  that night, he held the little phone in his trembling hand. Someone  might hear him talking. The phone might be dead. A million things could  get in the way of the one phone call he needed to make. The one that  would save his skin.



He had waited too long already. He'd hoped to figure out whether or not  he would be brought along on the ride to Miami, as Crow had suggested.  But no one had felt it necessary to tell him one way or another, and  he'd been unable to pick up any clues from overheard conversations. All  he knew is that whoever was going, they were going soon. There was  enough bustle and movement in the clubhouse that could only be explained  by a mass migration.



He pressed the power button and the screen flashed on; he held it under  the pillow to muffle any sound it might make when turning on. It buzzed a  few times in his hand. He pulled it out. Being from a time before cell  phones, he still had a phonebook in his memory, and now he called upon  it, dialing Kennick's number slowly, carefully.



It started ringing. He pressed the phone to his head so hard that his ear hurt.



Pick up, Kennick, he thought. Pick up, rom baro, pick up, pick up …



"Hello?" the voice came in strong and clear, and Jenner stifled his sigh  of relief. He kept his voice low, whispering into the phone as he  spoke.



"Don't hang up," Jenner said. "Don't you dare hang up, Kennick."

There was a long moment of silence on the other end of the line, a sharp intake a breath.

"Jenner," Kennick said, his voice injected every curse and vile word in English or Romani into the two syllables.

"I know where Damon is," Jenner said quickly, knowing that the sooner he  gave a little bit, the sooner he'd get his in return. "And I know he's  in deep shit."

"The fuck … " Kennick's surprise was clear.

"And if you want me to spill, you're gonna have to promise to help me,"  Jenner said quickly, before Kennick could say anything else.

"Help you? Help you? Motherfucker, I should fucking kill you, after what  you did to us, what you did to your own damn people, your familia, you  piece of shit, I should … "

"You're wasting your breath, and my time," Jenner hissed. At any moment,  the phone could run out of minutes, or one of the Steel Dragons could  come barging in, as they were wont to do whenever they wanted to remind  him who owned his ass. "They've got me locked up at their clubhouse,  somewhere in Maryland. Near a town called Colony, I think. If I tell you  where Damon is, and what they're planning to do to him, you need to  help me get out."

"Who? Who's got you locked up?" Kennick asked. "And what the fuck do you know about Damon being in trouble?"         

     



 

"Who do you think? You're smarter than this, Kennick," Jenner said,  irritated. "The Steel Dragons. They thought I double-crossed them, and  they've been holding me here. I don't know where … "

"Shiiiiiiit," Kennick said. "I knew we weren't cleared of those bastards yet. Where is Damon, Jenner?"

"Do I have your word?" Jenner asked. Jenner's word wasn't worth shit.  But Kennick's was. Kennick, and his brothers, were cut from a different  cloth, and Jenner knew it. Even though Jenner had actively tried to  destroy them, once they gave their word, they'd act on it. It was a  matter of honor, pride. Jenner had plenty of pride, but not the right  kind.

The silence on the other end of the line grew long. Kennick knew that  once he promised, he'd have to live up to it. Jenner counted on that.

"Fine," Kennick said, spitting the word out. "You tell me what's  happened to my brother, and I'll do my best to get you out. You can't  tell me where you're at, so I can't promise we'll be able to do it, but  I'll try."

"If you follow them, they'll take you to me," Jenner said. "And … I might  end up in the same place as you. Where Damon is. I can't explain it all  right now. I'll need money, once you get me out. I'll need cash to get  away so they can't follow me."

"Fine, fine, whatever," Kennick said, angry. Jenner knew how a gypsy  felt, backed into a corner. It's how he felt every day that he was in  the Steel Dragons' clutches. He felt no pity for the situation Kennick  was in.

"He's in Miami," Jenner said, speaking quickly now. The sooner he got  the words out, the sooner he could hang up and trash the phone and feel  safe again. As safe as he could in the Steel Dragons' lair, anyway.  "He's got some fight up there."

"Damon's done with fighting," Kennick said, distrust sliding into his  tone. Fair enough, Jenner thought. Kennick had no reason to trust him,  anyway.

"Apparently not," Jenner retorted. "Because he's gone up there to fight  some gadje, and the Steel Dragons are paying good money for that man to  do him dirty."

"How?" Kennick demanded.

"I don't know," Jenner said, telling the truth  –  a rare occasion. "All I  know is that they want revenge, and Damon is walking into a trap."

"Fuck," Kennick hissed. "Where's the fight? Who's it against?"

"I don't know  –  like I said, it's somewhere in Miami. They don't exactly  tell me the details of their plans, Nick. Everything I'm telling you  –  I  was lucky they told me."

"Goddammit, Jenner," Kennick said, sounding suddenly exhausted. "God. Dammit."

The phone beeped. Jenner's hand tightened around it; an automated voice came on.

"You have two minutes left on your plan. If you'd like to … "

"Shit," Jenner said. "Kennick, I'm running out of time. I have to go."

"Wait … "

"No, I have to fucking go," Jenner said. "You go find your meathead brother, and then you come find me."

"I swear, Jenner, if this is some fucking trick, if you're working with them and … "

"I'm not," Jenner answered through gritted teeth. If Kennick could see  him then  –  in his little shithole of a room, scarred and lonely and  grateful just to be alive  –  he wouldn't have any doubts. Jenner wasn't  doing this to make up for his sins. He was doing it to escape his own  personal hell. "I know you've got no reason to trust me, but this time,  you better. For Damon's sake."

"You're not coming back here," Kennick said. "I hope you know that."

"I know," Jenner said, mentally counting down the seconds before his only lifeline cut off.

"Oh," Kennick said. "And your grandmother died. You weren't there for her funeral. No one missed you."

Jenner felt a stabbing pain in his heart. For all his dirty deeds, all  his little acts of evil, he still had people he loved. His grandmother  was one of them. So was his mother, and, to a much lesser degree, his  cousins. He never let himself linger on the memory of how he'd lost  them, lost everything that mattered to him, in a foolish quest for  power. It hurt too much. And now …

The phone cut off before Jenner could respond. He kept it pressed to his  ear long after the automated voice told him he was all out of time.