After setting the panic room into lockdown, I pace the office until Mac threatens to physically restrain me. It's taken some getting used to, but I've finally rewired my brain to refer to him as Mac, even in my head. But when he snaps at me, my mind goes right back to college.
“You will not touch me, Riley MacMillan,” I state. “Not if you want to keep your damn hands.”
“There she is,” he laughs. “Now, stop pacing around here like the scared little woman waiting for her man to come back from battle.”
“What am I supposed to do, then?” I hold my arms out and let them fall. “He left me here and ordered me to stay while he's out doing God knows what.”
“This isn't a prison, Dahlia.” He uses my club name like he's done since the day I accepted it. “You can shower, cook, watch TV. Pretty much anything you can do at home. The only thing youcan'tdo is step outside.”
He's right. I know he's right. But my brain won't stop plaguing me with what Dean is doing. He said he was going after Slade, but I know how easy it will be for him to just jump along for the ride instead of pulling Slade back. Those men dehumanized Maxine—a woman with a similar build and hair color to mine—and one of them touched me. It won't matter that I wasn’t hurt but in Dean’s mind, all he'll focus on is whatcouldhave happened. Just like I'm doing now.
Knowing that there's nothing I can do with Mac hovering over me, I open the closet and pull out some clothes before telling him I'm going to shower. I take my time, scrubbing my hair and body as a plan formulates in my head. As soon as Mac goes to sleep, I'm getting out of here. I'm going to track Dean and when I find him, I’ll either stop him…or join him.
I step out of the bathroom in jeans and a black tank top to see Mac sitting at Dean's desk, looking at something on his laptop. When he notices me, he pulls the lid closed and stands.
“Feel better?” he asks as he surveys my outfit. “You could have dressed in something more comfortable. I've watched you parade around in next to nothing every night for the past month.”
“I am comfortable.” I shrug before giving him a small grin. “It feels good to be dressed after parading around in next to nothing all night.”
He watches me with an eagle eye as I take a seat at the end of the couch and plug my phone in to make sure I have a full battery when it's time to go. He shrugs off the worry that I’m about to make a beeline for the door and retakes his seat, opening the laptop and alternating between watching me andwhatever is on the screen. After an hour, I realize that I grossly underestimated Mac's ability to stay on alert.
“What are you watching?” I ask, standing and walking around the desk to look at the screen over his shoulder.
I recognize the same tracking app that I have on my phone. I watch the black dot move on the map of Tennessee and realize that even if I left right now, I couldn't catch up with Dean. He's all the way in Cherokee Falls.
“Who's with him?” I ask when I notice a red dot moving just a few miles ahead of his black one.
“The red dot is the tracker I put on Rocky's bike when you motioned for extra security earlier tonight.” He leans back in the chair, giving me space when I lean over the desk to gauge the distance between Dean and the bikers he's pursuing. “I knew shit would go down as soon as Dean found out he'd touched you. I didn't want them to be able to turn on him.”
“He was supposed to be going after Slade to talk him down.” My statement falls flat, even to my own ears, because I already knew that's not how tonight was going to play out.
“He went after Slade,” Mac says, and when I turn to look at him, he just shrugs. “Couldn't talk him down.”
“How do you know that?” My eyes narrow with suspicion when he shrugs again. “Does he have a body cam or something? Like my necklace?” My hand goes to the Dahlia pendant hanging from my neck.
When he doesn't answer, I turn back to the computer and press the Alt key, then Tab through the open windows until I see the winding road from Dean's Chopper.
“You shouldn't be watching this, Dahlia,” Mac says half-heartedly. “If it goes bad…you don't want that in your head. If they do what they’re planning and it goes right…you don't want that in your head.”
“If I weren't here, you'd be with him,” I choke out around a sob as the realization hits me. “He’s out there without you…because of me.”
“No,” he says with a sigh. “He'd have still gone on his own and I'd be watching it on the screen. I do security. I do surveillance. I don't chase violence. Not anymore.”
I want to ask him about whatever happened to change his mind about the violence. From what I remember from college, he kept Sheila at arm’s length because of the mess he'd get into with the people he did computer hacking jobs for. She was head over heels for him and tried to get him to do something more above board, but he was too wrapped up in the excitement of it all. They never made it past the friend zone because of it. After college, she gave up and cut that tie, too. It broke her heart, but watching him get hurt would have been worse. She didn't have the danger-loving gene that I apparently have.
I can feel it now, burning under my skin. The urge to be on that bike with Dean. To be there with him when he undoubtedly helps Slade make the Hell Hounds pay for what they did to Maxine. He'll be right in the middle of it, because if he weren't so diligent with security, I'd have been their latest victim.
I used to think something was wrong with me for wanting to be in the middle of danger. Now, I know it's just part of being the other half of a thug like Dean Lancaster. He’s my other half, too, and I won't survive the night if something happens to him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Dean
Ihate leaving Sloan behind, but there's no way I want her anywhere near the Hell Hounds ever again. After tonight is done, I'm paying a visit to Victor to let him know that they are persona non grata at all of my establishments from here on out. Even if she never steps foot into the other clubs I own in Cherokee Falls, she’s still part owner. I'm not taking a chance with her like this again.
I jog over to Slade's Automotive and find him in the back bay of the garage, strapping down like he's going to war. It makes me feel silly with just a dagger and a single piece. But if I need more than that, I'm already dead.
“Slade,” I call out so he knows who's walking in behind him. “I know where you're headed and I can't let you do it.”
