It would just take a twelve-hour fucking bike ride to California, with no assurances that we would have any luck getting them to listen to us.
“I don’t care if you have to bribe them. Do whatever it takes to get them on our side. Tonight showed we are at a severe weapons disadvantage, and since they provided us our first round of weapons, we need them to supply more. Understood?”
Steele and I nodded. Brock turned to the rest of us and sighed.
“I’m not going to pretend that tonight was anything other than disastrous,” he said. “I would also say that for the foreseeable future, we need to travel in pairs or in groups. We’re moving into a dark time, and we can’t do it alone. Watch your backs. We’ll reconvene here tomorrow and stay here except to check in on our loved ones or in case of emergency. We can’t lose anyone else.”
Steele, Garrett, and Connor all nodded. They understood. The only people they’d get to see now outside of the club were their women. I was in the group that would only—or should only—be meeting other Black Reapers.
So why, now, was I suddenly thinking about Justine?
Why was my mind racing to the doctor that had blown me off for coffee? Was it because I had a feeling that she really wanted to say yes but just hadn’t? Was it because this fear of impending death made me want company at the very end?
It wasn’t very biker-sounding. And honestly, it wasn’t like I was cowering at the idea of dying alone. Just because I was quiet didn’t mean that I was afraid to say what was on my mind.
But Justine was coming to mind. I very much had an interest in trying to make something happen—if nothing else, if I did wind up killed, it would be nice to have the last person I hooked up with be someone as hot as her.
And luckily for us, we were probably going to visit the hospital again tomorrow before Steele and I headed to California.
Perhaps there was something good from today, however much of a desperate idea that was.
