Page 101 of Protector

I was prevented from saying more when one of the other guys walked in, holding his hand over the mouthpiece of the cordless phone. “Got a situation, boss.”

He pulled the gun away from my thigh with a long sigh. “What is it, Stitch?

“I gotHub Cityon the phone; says it’s urgent.”

“You see I’m in the middle of something, right?” Ryan snapped, and Mikey stood up with a wide grin.

“Stitch, sweetie, can’t you see that—”

“Shut the fuck up, Sullivan,” Stitch growled. “Wouldn’t be interrupting if it wasn’t important.Hub Citysays they’ve got a guy looking to cover up his club colors—”

“What guy?” I asked, struggling to turn enough to face him. “What does he look like?”

Stitch ignored my question and continued. “They aren’t entirely sure it’s the same one the club’s looking for, but felt it was worth mentioning.”

With a dry mouth and racing heart, I pushed past my fear and climbed down from the chair before facing them. “Give me the phone.”

Stitch looked at Ryan. “Boss?”

“Give her the goddamn phone unless you want to be taking your meals through a straw from here on out.” Ryan snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“How stupid would the guy have to be to go to a place here?” Mikey questioned. “Even if the club doesn’t ownHub City, they have eyes and ears everywhere.”

“You knew the club was looking for these guys?” I stammered, wondering how much Jamie had revealed.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Apparently they stole something pretty valuable from the club. Grey’s made finding them priority numero uno, so I’m thinking it must’ve been a fuck ton of cash.”

Stitch handed the phone over and walked out with a muttered curse.

“Hello?”

“Who’s this?” a male voice demanded. “I asked to speak with Ryan, not his bitch.”

“Do you have enough men to hold him?”

“Bitch, did you not hear me? I talk to Ryan or—”

“Listen, asshole,” I seethed. “I’m Grey’s Ol’ Lady and the only one that can tell you if you have the right guy in your shop. So, stop fucking cursing at me and listen.”

The line went silent, and for a brief second, I thought he hung up. “I’m sorry—I had no idea it was you—if we could just keep this between us…”

Mikey… the prick at the other tattoo shop… they were all the same when I mentioned Jamie’s name. I wanted to command that kind of respect, but not by using fear.

“If you have the right guy…” I paused to take a deep breath. “He’ll have a four-leaf clover tattooed on his lower abdomen, right above his… you know.”

The man chuckled. “Above his cock. Got it. Hold tight for me.”

I’d seen it in my nightmares for so long, the image was permanently ingrained into my memory.

Ryan and Mikey watched me intently, and I brought my hand up to cover the phone. “You need to call it in to him, Mikey.”

“Celia,” he said gently. “How do you know about that?”

I didn’t want to see sympathy in his eyes; didn’t want his pity. “I know about a lot of things, Mikey. It comes with the territory.”

“Alright, Grey’s Ol’ Lady…” The man came back on the line. “We got him. Does he want my guys to deliver, or is this a pick up?”

“We’ll be there in fifteen.” I ended the call. “They’ve got him. Ryan, I’m so sorry, but I’m going to have to come back another day.”

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