“Shit like that won’t cut it. He’s just as pissed at War.”
“Yeah well, no going back now. War and Felix are bringing him in.”
“We know. The intel you got is good, we’re looking for the van.”
“Anyone on their way here.”
“Fuck no,” Ballistic suddenly sounded amused. “I got the Shed all prepped.”
I laughed a little, which was pretty fucked up, given the circumstances. “So King’s gonna tear us a new one.”
“Probably. Maybe avoid him for a while, Christ knows no one is thinking straight right now,” he got the dig in but at least he was referring to King too.
He hung up and I closed my eyes. Good job I knew him well enough not to take offence. I followed the others out through the back of the house. Casper was hanging back waiting for me.
“Go let everyone know they can head home,” I said. “We got what we came for.”
I whistled to War, who paused and turned to look at me. When I didn’t say anything more, he said something to Handlebar, giving Omen a filthy look, but left him and Felix at the car where they were loading Omen into the trunk. Where the fucker belonged.
“What?” War snapped impatiently.
“Ballistic has the Shed prepped. I know you’re raring to go but King is on the warpath. Ballistic suggested we stay away for a bit.”
“Are you kidding?”
“If Ballistic suggested it, then no, I’m not.”
“I’m not afraid of him.”
“Well I am, and you damn well should be too,” I added when War scoffed at me. “Ballistic and everyone else in the club knows Omen is yours. No one is gonna take that away from you, but we shit all overyour dad’s plan. And if I’m being honest, I need a bit of time away from everyone,” I closed my eyes and scrubbed my hand down my face.
I didn’t want to admit this to anyone. But if there was anyone I could say it to, anyone who would understand, it was War.
“I need to clear my head, to try and figure things out. I know everyone is trying to help but…it’s too much and I can’t think straight.” I looked up at my best friend, hating to say it but I was going to lose my mind. “I’m drowning, man.”
War stared at me, the tension in his face slackened as he realised what I was saying.
“We’re ready,” Handlebar called over.
War kept his steady gaze on mine, his eyes switching from one to the other as he looked at me. He held up a hand to Handlebar but kept his eyes on mine. “Take him back. They’re ready for him at the Shed.”
Once they were in the car and driving away, War put his hands in his jeans pocket and looked up and down the street.
“Where are we going?” he asked me.
He sounded apprehensive and I figured he thought I was going to suggest Connor’s place but he needed space too and being in Connor’s wasn’t going to help.
“I know a place,” I said and started walking back to our bikes.
War didn’t question me, he just followed.
He didn’t say anything when I pulled over at a convenience store and went inside to buy beers. But I did notice how he became aware of our surroundings, of the familiar street we were on. It was only when we pulled into a driveway and came to a stop that he gave me a look. He took his helmet off, looking up at the house then back to me.
“You didn’t sell this place?”
“I thought about it, but it’s a good investment,” I sat on my bike and looked at my childhood home. “I’ve made thousands off it over the last six years.”
He gave me a speculative look then glanced back at the house.
