A shout goes up, and there’s a scuffle as I drag Thatcher off, knowing my father is close behind. Gunshots ring out before we get into the car. I push Thatcher into the back seat and slide inafter him. We peel away from the curb a few moments later, tires screeching in the stillness of the night.
“I just received a phone call informing me that a warrant has been issued for our club.”
Thatcher holds his arms in his lap to hide the tremor. “A warrant?”
“The premises are being searched for illegal activity,” I continue. “Your ambush didn’t work, Thayer. Now, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t dump your body on Elise’s doorstep.”
Thatcher glances from my father to me and back again. “I had nothing to do with this, I swear.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“I don’t know,” Thatcher responds. “Tell me what I can do to make you see that I’m not your enemy.”
I grunt and lower the gun.
Slowly, I reach into the compartment in the center and pull out a few zip ties. Thatcher’s hands are shaking as it takes a few tries for him to put them together. While he does, I call Carlisle, who is on his way to the club with reinforcements. The search won’t yield any results, but I know we can’t afford the added scrutiny.
I hang up on Carlisle and dial Katia, who answers on the third ring. “Has it been taken care of?”
“Yes.”
I switch the phone to my other ear. “Good. Get back to London once you’re done.”
The line goes dead, and I tuck the phone away.
When we arrive at the Payne estate, the gates are wide open, and there’s a swarm of reporters in front of the club. Red and blue lights flash as a few uniformed cops stand behind yellow tape. As the car pulls up, everyone gathered erupts into a frenzy, and several cameras flash in our direction.
My father gets out first.
I shoot Thatcher a warning look before my fingers move to the buttons of my shirt. “One sound, one wrong move, and you’ll be begging me to have Elise honor our agreement.”
Thatcher gives me a tight nod and stiffens.
I tuck the gun away and hurry out of the car.
There’s a loud ringing in my ears as the cops clear a path for me, and I walk right up to the club, where my family is waiting at the top of the stairs. We turn to face the camera, and the cacophony of voices grows.
Carlisle sidles up to me, and I lean into him. “How the fuck did this happen?”
“Some reporter,” Carlisle says. “We’re working on figuring out who it is.”
I offer the crowd another wave. “Make sure our people on the inside help. Double their pay.”
Carlisle nods and disappears through the double doors.
Once we’re inside, Oliver and Olivia start talking over each other. Our father stands near a booth in the corner, nursing a drink. I spot Thatcher being brought in, his hands tied behind his back, and a panicked look in his eyes. I stalk over to him, yank him forward, and throw him into the nearest booth.
“Are you ready to talk?”
Thatcher stares dumbly. “I already told you; I don’t know anything. The Fitzpatricks reached out to me. I didn’t even—”
I cut him off with a low, humorless laugh. “You fucking idiot. You didn’t think to make sure it was legit?”
Thatcher scowls. “Why would I?”
“Because you allied yourself with us, which means you’re probably next.”
Thatcher sputters. “We have an agreement. If they try anything—”
