I laughed some more as he summoned Lida with the faintest whistle and Doherty scrambled away. Greeted him with a hug as he reached us. “You’ve got that prick hiding under his bed from killer drones. Is there any point me asking you to stop?”
“None at all.” Viktor returned my embrace. Then stepped back to run his gaze over Folk. “You are good?”
Folk shrugged. “I’m dry.”
Viktor said something Russian.
Folk laughed, and I sighed, out of the loop as fucking usual, but I didn’t mind. These brothers hadn’t been with me as long as the others, but my heart beat for them just as hard.
I shepherded them inside and poured rum and brewed tea. Cooked them hot food, grateful to learn Viktor was less stressful to feed than Ranger. Grateful for him being so fucking easy to be around that the night unfolded in a haze of fraternal companionship.Quietcompanionship. Folk didn’t say much, and eventually, he slipped away, but with Ivy sleeping on the compound, I knew he wouldn’t stray far. So I let him go with a promise to find him tomorrow. One that earned me a droll grin and another couple hours with Viktor until he left too, disappearing into the night the same way Saint used to before I grew lucky enough for him to stay.
It was early by then but still dark. The rum I’d drunk had long worn off and I was starting to think about coffee. Or admitting defeat and finding a bed that didn’t smell of hemp seeds and Chanel. Or banging my head against a brick wall, as frayed as Folk seemed to be without brothers around me.
I took comfort in the fact that River would be up soon and drifted outside to smoke, perversely craving company while enjoying the solitude of a perfect cigarette. A flawless contradiction in the cold twilight, one that hurt my tired brain so much I shut my eyes to hide from it, almost missing the footsteps that came up on me from behind.
My eyes flew open.
Nash chuckled, lines from the bar cushions he’d crashed out on imprinted on his scruffy cheek. “Easy, brother. It’s almost over.”
“What is?”
Nash drew closer, stealing my smoke and tossing it away, wrapping his familiar fraternal arm around me. “Listen.”
I strained my ears, hearing nothing but fucking seagulls over the yawning emptiness that had crept up on me. But the force in Nash’s gentle persistence was strong and a low rumble reached me, growing louder with each passing second. Harsher, with the jangling sound that belonged to the rig Rubi had named Grumpy Gertrude, the engine noise unmistakable, and what it meant to me something I couldn’t fucking quantify.
Saint.
He was home.
7
SAINT
We were early. Traffic had been kind to us and a closed section of a major motorway had reopened in time to shave three hours off our journey.
Locke parked the rig—he was better at it than me, reversing into the bay with the same quiet competence Decoy possessed, even though he was as weary of the road as I was.
TheloudHGV engine cut off, cloaking us in the hissed quiet that came next. My skull throbbed, ears ringing. Someday I’d understand the utter fucking madness that had let me agree to this bullshit, but tonight was not the one.
Eager to be somewhere else, Locke pressed his fist to my shoulder, dropped the keys in my hand, and slid out of the cab.
He didn’t get far. Nash appeared before he had two boots on the ground, and I turned away, letting them reconnect in peace before it occurred to me that I hadn’t expected Nash to be here, on the compound, at two in the morning when he should’ve been home with Orla.
Something happened.
I opened the passenger door and leaned out, my gaze finding Cam before my heart compelled me to look for him. I jumped down, stepping into his arms, wrapping my hand around his jaw the way only I could.
Who came here?
“Easy.” Cam’s dark eyes gleamed with enough humour to relax me. “Old man Doherty paid us a visit, but it’s all good.”
Doherty.
Murder flared in my veins. He was only still alive because by destroying all three of his sons, Ranger had hurt him worse than death ever could. But that could change. I knew where his grotty caravan was. How he rotted there, spreading litter and junk around like a fucking disease.
“Easy,” Cam repeated, taking my hand from his face and lacing our fingers together. “You don’t need to riot. Someone else got there first.”
I fought the gremlin in my throat as Nash and Locke rounded the cab, somehow entwined without touching, the energy around them so bright and full of love that I returned Nash’s grin, forgetting that I gave a fuck about speaking. Safe in the knowledge that I never had to, because Cam heard me all the same.