No one argued. Even Alexei seemed to know better.
I took the keys from my bike, preparing to hand them over to Decoy as the others moved out.
Alexei stopped me. “To the river first.”
“What?”
“The blood, wingman.”
I raked a gaze down him. Then myself. Fuck. We were a forensic team’s wet dream, but fuckoffif he thought I was in the mood to face my worst fears.
Too bad he didn’t give a shit.
21
Cam
I had no words for how it felt to know Saint and Alexei had obliterated a kill squad of nine men on their own.
How it felt toknowthat they’d been two bullets from a different ending to the story.
I roared back to the cottage with Decoy at my back. Gave him the keys to the SUV and sent him home.
Then I retreated to the kitchen and did what I always did when I was fuckingfumingbut lacked the time and space to get blackout drunk and beat the shit out of something.
Or someone. I eyed my bruised knuckles. Saint and Alexei weren’t the only ones who’d had an eventful night, and my thirst for violence was far from quenched.
But I was about to have a houseful of men who were hungry, tired, and stressed to fuck.
So I cooked them dinner.
Embry appeared as I was kicking the oven door shut with my heavy boot.
“The intelligence was good?”
Shit. I’d forgotten he hadn’t been present for Saint’s SOS message. We’d been at the compound by then, sniffing out the brothers whose names had been heard on the wire, confirming the list Rocco had given us. Traitors. Spies. Whatever the fuck you wanted to call them, they were now without bikes, stripped of their patches, and nursing too many broken bones to count. “It was accurate.” I leaned against the counter. “And it’s dealt with. Three more brothers down, eh? Sometimes I wonder how many we’ll be left with.”
“Doesn’t matter as long as we have all we need.”
“And what’s that, father? I want a peaceful life, but you... I don’t know what you want anymore.”
Embry came closer and peered into the pot I’d left on the burner. He looked better than he had in days, colour in his cheeks, lines of pain and nausea gone from his face.
It gave me the balls to push him harder and ask the question I really needed to. “Are you doing okay, Em?”
“I reckon I could eat whatever magic you’re making without taking horse tranquillisers after. That’s got to be something, right?”
“Not what I meant.”
“I know.” Embry dropped the lid back on the pot, turned to face me, and for the first time in what felt like a fucking century, he was really there. “I’m deflecting your questions like you deflect mine. Annoying, isn’t it?”
“I’m not annoyed.”
“Shame. It might distract you from whatever you’re rage cooking about.”
“I’ll tell you if you humour me first.”
“All right.” Embry took a breath and propped a hip on the kitchen counter. “I hate being helpless. It makes me feel crazy and reminds me of a time when all I could be was the sum total of how I was perceived. Back then, I wanted to burn the universe down, not caring who burned with me, and that feeling came back for a while. I’m sorry if I’ve pushed you to kill more people than you’re comfortable with. I’m over it now.”