Page 48 of Damascus & The Wildfire
Hatchet held him steady in an ironclad grip. “You brought this on yourself, you little shit. You think the FBI will want you now?”
When I finished, Tyler’s blood ran down his arm and pooled on the concrete. I wiped the blade clean on his shirt.
Hatchet grabbed a rag and wrapped it tightly around Tyler’s arm. “Wouldn’t want you to pass out from blood loss. I want to make sure you see who finds you first. Does your handler check her email at night? You better hope she does. Before Poe finds you.”
I slipped a bag over Tyler’s head and zip-tied his wrists before tossing him into the back of a van. We drove for nearly two hours before we dumped him in a field and emailed the evidence Linc had cooked up.
By dawn, Tyler would be a ghost.
Chapter Eighteen
A sharp rap at my door startled me. Brisket, curled at my feet, lifted his head with a low growl. I hesitated, my pulse racing as I padded across the floor and peered through the peephole.
Merrick stood on my porch, his dark hair damp, the scent of soap and leather wafting through the door. He wore a clean black T-shirt and jeans, but his jaw was set in a way that made my stomach tighten.
I opened the door, and his gaze went straight to my neck. My hand flew to cover the bruises. His expression darkened, fury flickering in his eyes before he schooled his features into neutrality.
I stepped aside to let him enter. He moved past me, filling the small space with his presence. Brisket sniffed his boots, tail wagging. Merrick scratched the dog’s ears absently, his eyes never leaving my face.
“You OK?” he asked, voice low.
I shrugged, hugging my arms around myself. “I’m alive. Thanks to the self-defense you guys helped teach me.”
He tipped my chin up, looking at the hand-shaped imprint on my neck. “You did good. You got away. That’s more than most people. But it should have never happened in the first place.”
I swallowed hard, my throat aching. “What happened to Tyler?”
Merrick’s jaw tightened. “He’s alive. For now.”
“Will you?—?”
“No,” he cut in, sharp. “We won’t kill him.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “So what’ll happen to him?”
He hesitated, eyes flickering to the bruises again. “We exposed him. Left him for another club to deal with, if his handler doesn’t get to him first. He’s not our problem anymore.”
I bit my lip, questions burning on my tongue. “Will they kill him?”
Merrick sighed. “Maybe. Probably. But it won’t be by our hands.”
I wanted to ask more, but the look in Merrick’s eyes told me he wouldn’t answer.
He stepped closer. “I just wanted to make sure you were OK.”
I nodded and swallowed, my throat tight. “I am.”
He reached out, fingers brushing lightly over my bruised skin. “I’m sorry you got hurt.”
I looked up at him. “It’s not your fault.”
He shook his head. “It is. It’s my responsibility to keep the club safe. To keep our women safe. I failed.”
The ache in my throat grew sharper. “You didn’t fail. No one could’ve known Tyler would do that.”
Guilt and anger swirled in his expression. “I should’ve known. Should’ve seen it coming. That’s the job. That’s what I’m supposed to do.”
I wanted to argue, but the look on his face stopped me. He wasn’t just angry. He was haunted. Like he’d let down more than just the club.
