“Some. I have not seen the rat yet.”
“He’s not a rat,” I said absently, eyeing the grainy images Alexei pointed at. “He’s desperate.”
“Desperate for what?”
“Same as the rest of us: a better world for this fucked-up life.”
I sensed Embry’s attention zeroing in on the side of my face. He hadn’t been present for so many things since he’d been hurt, but he’d had to have been in a coma to miss the clusterfuck my emotions suddenly became. Anger. Grief. Frustration. But there was empathy too, for a man who was betraying a brotherhood he’d been part of since he was a teenager, and something inside me snapped. I reared back from Alexei and walked out of the room and my crowded house.
The front door banged shut behind me and I strode to my car. I found a box of smokes in the driver side door. Saint’s. But no lighter.
Bollocks.I slammed that fucking door too and looked up in time for the rumble of bikes to shatter the quiet of the evening air.
Nash and Mateo rounded the bend on Beach Road, flanking a red hog that was still unfamiliar to me, vice president and enforcer guarding my sister.
They turned onto my driveway and purred to a stop where I stood.
Nash ripped his helmet off, then rapped his knuckles on Orla’s.
She punched him.
Hard.
Laughing, he didn’t fucking sway.
Good.Orla and Nash together was a bridge I’d yet to cross, but if anyone had the stones to be tied to this crazy woman forever, it was him.
Orla slid off her bike. I crouched to examine it, taking in the expertly rebuilt engine and bodywork. Nash was a genius mechanic. Sometimes, it pained me that he spent more time mopping up club drama than doing the shit he was good at.
I flicked a glance to my sister. “This is a nice bike. Anyone would think he loved you.”
Behind Orla, Nash held my gaze.
I nodded.
He nodded back. Bro code foryes, you can bang my sister? Who the hell knew?
I left them alone and approached Mateo. He was digging in the saddle bags of his bike, a heavy frown creasing his face, twisting the scar that ran from his temple to his jaw. “All right?”
Mateo shrugged. “Yes, boss.”
“Sure about that? It’s gotta be weird for you with Embry dealing with his own shit for once. It’s weird forme, and I don’t spend as much time with him as you do.”
“I don’t spend any time with him at the moment. Not when he’s awake.”
“He’s pushing you away?”
Another shrug, then Mateo heaved a sigh, amber gaze bloodshot and distant. “Not just me. He’s hiding from everyone and it ain’t good. He’s a crazy motherfucker when he’s alone too long. You know this.”
I did. Embry wasn’t like me. Or Saint. Or even the perception I had of Alexei. He didn’t find peace in solitude. He found madness. And that was a problem for us all. “I told him yesterday that it was Crows who shanked him. That it was deliberate because they think he killed Frank and Drummer, and they’ll come for him again if shit doesn’t go well with their expansion plans.”
Rage that wasn’t mine prickled my skin. Mateo ran hot, his temper fast and furious when his brothers didn’t catch it in time, and Embry was a hair-trigger. Always had been, even before it had dawned on me that his feelings for the good chaplain had escaped the friend zone.
“Easy.” I put a hand to Mateo’s chest. “They haven’t made a move yet and there’s no chatter about it on the wire.”
Mateo glowered. “They think he killed their president. Give a fuck about the rest of it, they’re gonna come for him.”
“Not if we shut them down first.”