“Aldea? No. He has other concerns. He does not speak for the Sambinis, though. O’Brian has caused them many problems too. You will need to fix this if you wish your friend to have a quiet life.”
A quiet life. I’d once asked Cam if that was what he wanted: to build houses with his bare hands and forget about the rest of it. His answer had been vague, if I took him at his word, but Cam was a man who communicated with more than his voice. How he really felt was in every molten stare. Every touch.
He wanted that quiet life.
He needed it.
So give it to him.
God, I wanted to, but as Sidorov’s words sank in, panic hit me full force.There is no time.
Heart in my throat, I pulled my phone from my pocket. It had run flat and the power bank I’d brought with me was in an airport locker with my wallet and passport.
A string of Russian curses escaped me, ripping from my chest as Sidorov looked on. “I need to go home.”
“To England?”
“Yes.” I didn’t know when I’d started thinking of that place as home, but it took more than geography to make such a thing. It was Cam who made me feel like that—warm, beautiful, stubborn Cam, who was going to die for his principles if I couldn’t reach him in time.
My heart was already heading for the door, but there was one more thing I needed to know. “The elements you spoke of within the MC. The rats. Tell me who they are.”
Sidorov nodded, understanding my intention. “It is the secretary. John Delaney. Whatever happens with the Sambinis, you will need to neutralise him and all who support him, or you may find you have too many enemies to fight.”
I ignored Sidorov’s superfluous words, focussing on the two that stood out.John Delaney.Cracker. The brother Saint had suspected all along.
Something wicked clamped around my heart. I needed togo. Inclement weather had closed Bristol airport to international traffic, meaning I had to fly into London. Even if I left now, it was going to take me many hours to reach Cam. Hours that could cost him everything.
Blindly, I stepped away from Sidorov and darted for the door.
He called my name and I could not understand why I stopped.
Or why I turned to face him when I’d sworn blind so many years ago that I would never lay eyes on him again. “What is it?”
“A warning and some last advice,” he said. “You may find that you do not reach the home of your biker friends in time. Or that your old ways are simply not enough.”
My old ways. As if I’d ever truly left them behind. I had leverage held hostage in my Bristol penthouse that laid testament to that, but was it enough?
Acid coated my tongue as I forced words from my throat. “There is an attack planned on the compound?”
Sidorov nodded. “To cover the hit and to appease Sambini for the death of his son.”
He’s not dead.“When?”
“It is imminent. That is all I know.”
I clenched my fists.Too imminent to stop.“What is your advice?”
Sidorov opened his gaze to me, letting me see the man I knew him to be when mobster life didn’t consume his every facet. A man with empathy and kindness—like Cam. “Tell them who you are, Alexei. I have ensured there will be a man with them who will hear you when you speak.”
“I have your blessing?”
“Always, dear friend, but you should know this is the end for us—for you and I. What you make of this is yours and yours alone. I do not expect to see you again.”
I nodded, knowing he’d take it as my word, and melted away, out of the hotel suit, past the guards I’d incapacitated, and out into the street.
Fresh air hit me. Fresh panic too. The airport was too far away. I stole a car and hit the back roads, ditching under a bridge and running the rest of the way, but it still felt like a lifetime had passed before I reached the storage locker.
With shaky hands, I charged my phone while I bought a ticket for the next flight and ran for the gate, barging through families and tourists, scaring young children.Control yourself. You do not want to be remembered.But it was hard to care, and I pushed on until I was seated on the plane.
