“Wait for my text.” Nash hung up, a frown dragging his face into a mess that aged him a decade. “Rocco wants to meet.”
Cam widened his stance, aggression gathering in his coiled muscles. “The Crows want to talk?”
“Nah. Just him. Wants it on the down-low. Says he trusts us to keep it tight even if you won’t accept the meet.”
“I can agree to that,” Cam said. “But why the fuck is he breaking ranks now? He was Frank Crow’s VP for as long as you’ve been mine.”
Nash shrugged. “Got no fucking clue. Could be a trap.”
“Or he wants to defect,” Rubi said. “We’ve had a few go their way.”
“Could still be a trap.” Cam turned to me. “Trojan horse? Is that it?”
I scowled at him. “I don’t fucking know.”
Embry hadn’t spoken since Cam had shut him down. He sat up now, pushing away from Rubi. “It’s Greek mythology. Enemy soldiers hid inside a gift to the city and attacked from within.”
Blank faces greeted him. He sighed, then cringed. “I feel like someone smashed an egg on my head.”
“It was me.” Rubi ruffled his hair. “Sorry, mate.”
“Quiet.” Cam brought the room back to order and pointed at Nash. “I’ll meet him, but not here. And I want this place on red alert while we’re gone. Mateo, you stay with Rubi and Embry. Nash and Saint ride with me.”
It was over. Done. He’d made his decision. But he’d overlooked a crucial point.
I stepped closer to him. “You can’t ride.”
Cam speared me with a glare that did weird fucking shit to my pulse. “Try stopping me.”
To the room, he snapped his last orders. “Stay sharp, boys. Holiday’s over.”
12
Cam
“You cannot ride.”
I faced Alexei down, swinging a leg over my hog. “Watch me.”
Same words. Different lover.
Differentsoul. Alexei’s reaction went deeper than Saint’s surly stare. Sharp.Lethal. For a moment, I thought he might shove me from the bike. Then he schooled his features and shrugged. “It is your life, I suppose.”
He walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the compound.
Beside me, Nash shivered. “You’re in trouble later.”
I knew it. But it would have to wait. I was a Rebel fucking King. I needed my bike.
We rode out without the usual guard of prospects and muscle at our backs. It was risky, but the location we’d chosen was easy to guard.
And to observe from a distance. As we hit the coastal road, I kept a sharp eye out for one of the sport bikes Alexei rode when he wanted to slip under the radar. However angry he was with me, he was close. I could feel it.
Saint felt it too. An hour later, we pulled up at the remote warehouse we owned in south Devon, equidistant between our turf and the Crows’. It was still being rebuilt from the Sambini raid it had suffered a few months back. Without insurance to cover it, the progress was slow and disorganised.
Decoy could manage this. It’s clean money.
An errant thought was quickly eclipsed by all things Saint. He unfolded himself from his bike and ripped his helmet off like he always did. He only wore one at all because it was club rules... and Orla made him.Thanks, sis. I owe you.