He made a dark sound through his teeth. “It ain’t great.”
“Who’s in front?”
“Who do you think?”
Nash. Of course. My boy had zero ego, but on the open road, he liked to lead, especially when we were riding into trouble.
We. As if he’d ever let me, and despite the barbed anxiety squeezing my ribcage, I knew he wasn’t going to let Willow and Nicky either. My heart carried no doubt that he’d find that bright red Fiat and shepherd Locke’s kids safely off the road. Everything was going to be okay.
I repeated the mantra to myself as I glanced at Locke. His features hadn’t shifted from the strained, stubborn scowl that seemed so unnatural on his handsome face. His shoulders still bound tight, white knuckles wrapped around the steering wheel. My protector, my friend. It had to be okay. He wouldn’t survive it if it wasn’t.
We drove on. Willow’s car left the motorway and joined an A-road that was no less dicey. If anything, it was worse—faster, with fewer speed checks and cameras to regulate the traffic flow.
More scope for arsehole drivers to fuck with the girl in the tiny car.
I kept those thoughts to myself, answering Alexei’s call to Mateo’s phone, keeping him off speaker, the handset pressed tight to my ear. “What do you know?”
“I have Nash and Cam on my screen.” Beeping sounded wherever Alexei was. “They are gaining on Willow. There is a service station in ten miles. I think they will catch her before then.”
“You’re sure?”
“No, koroleva. In this weather, I am not sure of anything, and I would like youalloff the road with immediate effect.”
Alexei spoke too quietly in my ear for Locke to hear him, but the subtle stress in his tone reminded me that Saint rode behind us, guardingmewhen we needed all eyes on Willow.
I caught a glimpse of him in the wing mirror. Saint was as tall as Cam but not as broad, and the bike he rode today was the same model as Nash’s, rip-roaringly fast but not as loud.
Saint didn’t like loud things.
He didn’t like hanging back either, his agitation clear in the edgy swerve of his wheels on the wet road, and his fidgety posture. With Cam up ahead and Alexei who knew where, it was testament to how much he loved me that he was still here.
“I can see him,” I told Alexei, trusting he’d know I meant Saint.
He was quiet for a beat, and for no reason whatsoever, it reminded me of the discord I’d seen between Locke and Saint back at the compound,beforeKara’s phone calls had sent Locke into a tailspin. It wasn’t the time. For however long Willow and Nicky were unaccounted for, nothing else mattered, but the weight of Alexei’s silence got to me. “Are you okay?”
Alexei breathed a slow sigh. “Not yet. Let us get through tonight and then we will see.”
He hung up. I stared at the blank screen he left behind, his ominous words closing in on me, swamping me with an ocean of dread and fear that I recognised. One that took me back to a cosy living room that wasn’t mine or Cam’s or Rubi’s. The scent of woodsmoke and hay. That long, fearful night had almost cost us Saint, and by the end of it, his dance with death had felt inevitable, the only real shock that he hadsurvived.
This wasn’t the same.
It couldn’t be.
Could it?
My free hand was still on Locke’s thigh, fingers clamped around the hard swathe of muscle I found there, coiled flesh honed by a decade spent climbing ladders. He thought the firefighter he’d once been was long gone, but I knew better.
“Orla?” Locke squeezed my hand, his warm palm wrapped around my knuckles, his finger and thumb twisting the ring on my pinkie like a fidget spinner. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I patted his leg and reclaimed my hand. “Alexei said Nash and Cam are getting closer. He thinks they’ll catch her before the next service stop.”
Locke took a stressed breath.
His phone rang.
Decoy.
I connected the call. Clicked the handset onto the dash, setting it to speaker.