Page 2 of Welker

“Shut it, Vestore,” Moira hissed softly, trying very hard not to imagine Welker naked in his bed. “I’m in trouble.”

“Tell me.” His entire demeanor changed in a snap, and he instantly came alert. She could also tell from the ambient noises she could hear over the line, that he’d leapt out of bed at her assertion, and was already on the move.

Moira wasted no time explaining.

“Seven-plus bogies are in my house. I put Tormentor, the head of their MC behind bars today, where he joined his VP and several lieutenants who’d already been tried. When I left the courthouse, I was approached by Tormentor’s next minion in line, Mick, who threatened to come after me. I assume that’s who my visitors are.”

“Where are you now?” Welker was all business, and that was one thing Moira secretly liked about the man. He might be irreverent down to his boxer-briefs when in seduction mode, but taking care of business? He was one-hundred percent focused.

“On the roof.”

“The roof?”

Moira almost chuckled, imagining the look on his face as he hissed over her location.

“Yeah. I had an exit strategy planned, and took it. But I’m not sure those creeps won’t find me once they search my house and find I’m not inside.”

“Stay put,” he commanded. “I’m on my way. And just a warning, I’ll be coming in with my siren blasting. That way they’ll know you called for back-up and most likely they’ll spook and take off.”

“Maybe you’re assuming too much,” Moira grunted. “There are seven of them, Welk. They may not scare so easily. If they don’t leave, do not engage. Don’t be a hero.”

Welker growled. “Who’s the boss, here, Bliss?” he asked.

“Mason,” she rebutted, naming their SWAT chief. She actually had the urge to stick her tongue out at the phone. “And he’s my next call.” Just because Welk was Squad H leader, didn’t mean he was the big man in charge.

“Not a bad idea,” Welk huffed. “He’ll have SWAT convene so we can keep you safe tonight and discuss what your next move should be. You can’t stay out there in the boonies by yourself if you’ve got these assholes after you. Now call him, but keep me on the line. I’ll be there ASAP.”

Moira heard Welk’s truck door slam, and bristled at his high-handedness. “I’m not leaving my house,” she snapped. “I don’t care if they send the entire MC after me, I’ll make sure I’m covered.” She hadn’t had time after court to put any safety measures in place besides her escape route, but with a full day off tomorrow, she’d already planned to set up surveillance, trip-wires, and a few nifty booby-traps.

She hadn’t survived everything life had thrown at her during her younger years, to be driven out of her house, now.

“Call Mason,” Welker ordered annoyingly. “I’m not arguing with you.”

“Why not?” she goaded. “Isn’t that your norm?” She couldn’t help herself. The man pushed every one of her buttons… Even a few she wished he didn’t.

“Because you need to stay focused and vigilant,” he reminded her.

He had a point. And yeah, that’s what Welker Vestore did to her brain; took it over and turned her into a simpering idiot, which she normally wasn’t. He was the only one who managed to get under her skin these days, and with how thick she’d purposely made her adult epidermis, that was saying something.

Moira gave him an update, choosing to ignore his warning. “I hear the bastards. They’re not even trying to be quiet now. They must have figured, after they couldn’t find me, that I went someplace else for the night.” Smartly, she’d parked her car in the old barn, which was over the hill on the back side of the property. They’d be hard-pressed to find it.

She continued. “Because they’ve been deprived of the chance to off me, they’re trashing my house instead.” Not that she had a lot of personal possessions, but she freaking hated shopping, and the thought of having to go out and buy new plates and glasses—which she heard them smashing—made her want to spit nails, or get down off the roof and pound the curs, senseless.

“ETA eight minutes,” Welk told her. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Hah. It was as if he knew her.

“I’m putting you on hold and calling Mase.” Without waiting for a response, she punched a couple buttons and heard her boss’s phone ring.

“Moira?” His sleepy voice had her instantly rethinking her call. Everlee was heavily pregnant in her third trimester, and it was well known that neither the boss nor his wife were getting a lot of sleep lately. Surely, she and Welker could take care of this on their own?

Damn. Was it Welker’s sideways suggestion that Mason would want her displaced for her own safety that had her lamenting the current connection, or was it regret only at waking up her beleaguered SWAT Chief.

Moira sighed. “Yeah. Sorry to bother you Mase, but you know the trial I testified at today?”

“For Tormentor, the president of the 227 MC?”

Of course, he had his finger on the pulse of everything his team members were involved in, even if he was personally distracted. The man was freaking amazing.

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