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Roman cleared his throat. He wanted to hold her so badly. “I love you, too. I’ll be home soon.” Then he hung up before he turned into a pansy in front of the badass MC at his back. When he looked up, it was to find Midas watching him carefully. “Problem?”
Midas shook his head, holding up his hands. “Sorry. It’s the real deal, huh? What you’ve got with your woman, I mean.”
“It is,” Roman declared.
Midas’s expression turned a little wistful. “Must be nice.”
“It is,” Roman repeated, wondering what the look was all about.
Crow grunted, slapping Midas on the back. “More like a pain the ass if you ask me.”
Belle scoffed from her position next to Torque. “Says the man who screws a different club bunny every day of the week.”
Crow shot her an annoyed look. “That’s what they’re there for.”
The female biker rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Can we get this show on the road?”
“Absolutely,” Roman was more than happy to agree.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Morrigan easily bypassed the security system. She was no Luca, but she knew her way around technology. Roman was more of a lock-picking man himself, having never met a lock he couldn’t crack. But microchips and scanners weren’t his specialty, so he was more than happy for Morrigan to take point.
They crept inside, five bikers, one assassin, and a very pissed-off crime boss, making their way upstairs quietly. Angela had given him excellent directions as to the layout of the house. But just to be extra careful, Roman had Luca find the plans. Which is why he knew Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorne would be found on the second floor, in the room behind the second door on the right. The place was huge and perfectly presented. And although it was nice, it was cold. Sterile almost. The thought of his warm, loving woman growing up in such a place hurt and made him see red.
Morrigan moved in front of him once more, testing the door handle. It turned with ease, and the door swung open silently. They made their way swiftly to the California King bed taking up the majority of the space in the center of the room. Midas and his brothers waited in the hall as Roman retrieved the zip-lock bag from his pocket. Wearing gloves, he pulled out a soaked cloth. Morrigan mirrored his actions. He nodded silently to her, and they moved in tandem, Roman placing the cloth over the senator’s mouth, and Morrigan over Angela’s mother’s.
Angela’s father’s eyes snapped open, swinging Roman’s way for an instant, but the panicked breath he sucked in only served to draw in the chemical faster. His body went lax seconds later. A glance up revealed Morrigan pressing down hard on the older woman’s face even though she wasn’t moving.
“Morrigan. You’re going to suffocate her,” Roman hissed.
Morrigan didn’t respond, but she did move the cloth and step back. She whistled, and the MC filed in, flicking on a tall floor lamp and ensuring the curtains were drawn. It was one in the morning, and although the Hawthornes didn’t employ any live-in staff, they did have regular security patrols. Roman’s enforcers were keeping a watch out for that. But according to Luca’s data, the security team made their rounds every two hours. Which meant they had one hour and fifty-two minutes to get the information they needed.
Roman and Morrigan worked quickly, tying the pair to chairs in the attached sitting area of the master suite. Then he stepped back and stared at the people who had sold their own daughter. Roman knew of Senator Harold Hawthorne, even though he wasn’t one for politics. The man was a Republican and very vocal about certain conservative issues. Roman had never liked him, even before he knew Angela was the senator’s daughter.
Looking at him now, Roman couldn’t see any resemblance to Angel. He had a thick head of gray hair, and dark eyebrows, and had clearly had some work done even though he had wrinkles. Angel’s mother, Jill, was fairer, with long blonde hair. But it was still darker than Angel’s. Her age lines were far more modest than her husband’s, indicating frequent visits to the plastic surgeon. Angel had her beat in beauty by a mile.
“Angel doesn’t look anything like them,” Morrigan said, standing beside him.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” he revealed. “There’s nothing of them in her.”
“Amen,” Morrigan muttered. Then she walked over to the tied pair. “How about we get this party started?” She slapped the woman. Hard. The sound echoed in the room and, unsurprisingly, was enough to have her coming to.
Jill looked around groggily for a moment before screaming her damn head off. Roman winced. “Will you keep it down?”
Jill’s dark green eyes pinwheeled around the room wildly before returning to his. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“I’ll answer your questions,” Roman promised. “But first...” He slapped Angela’s father, putting in as much effort as Morrigan had. The man came to with a gasp. “Wakey, wakey.”
Harold tried to get up, apparently not realizing he was tied to a chair. The seat toppled over, causing the older man to panic. “What is this? What’s happening? Jill? Jill?”
“I’m here. I’m okay,” Jill answered, her voice wavering as she looked at her husband anxiously.
“Not for long,” Morrigan said, one side of her lips curling in a sinister smirk. She brandished a knife in Jill’s face. “I want to slice you up.”
Jill shrieked and began bucking in the chair. Harold started yelling threats, trying in vain to free himself from the rope. “Do you know who I am?! You’re going to regret this. Do you hear me? You picked the wrong house to rob.”
Morrigan chuckled darkly. “What makes you think this is a robbery?”
