I chanced a flicker of my heavy lids and my hazy gaze fell on Cracker against the shiny countertop in the café’s kitchen. A man bore down on him, body tense with aggression. His stance wasn’t one I recognised, but his face was familiar. Of course it was—he was the arsehole who’d put a bullet in me.
He killed Embry.
And he’d hurt my brothers. It was the only explanation for their absence. The only reason they hadn’t come stampeding through that door to kill these motherfuckers.
Orla.Fuck. Where is she?
The fresh wave of fear was enough to clear my mind of drowsiness and pain. I darted a glance around the kitchen and found the magnetic strip that held the knives. It was three feet away. If I could force my body upright and lunge for it, I had a chance.
Cracker was losing his fight. I took advantage of his misfortune and lurched to my feet, eyes only for knives.
My fingers closed around the cool metal handles. The sensation reminded me of Alexei in every circumstance except when I was inside him, fucking him until he felt human enough to let it all go.Don’t think about him. He’s not here.I felt him, though. And it was his voice, again, that urged me on.
I grabbed the knives and spun around, clumsily knocking over a nearby chair, but despite the clattering, I still held the advantage.
They didn’t see me coming.
I ripped the stranger from Cracker and buried the knife in his neck, twisting hard until I was sure I’d inflicted an unsurvivable injury, dodging his flailing hands as he went for my throat with a switchblade I’d failed to notice.
The blade caught my face, a sharp scratch that went nowhere I had time to worry about.
I punched it from his hand and kicked it away, then I shoved him to the floor and stamped on his head. “That’s for Embry.”
The bloke was gone, life seeping from him in a slow gurgle. Later, it would hit me that I’d killed a man, but as his eyes rolled and fixed in the back of his head, I felt nothing but rage. Embry was dead, my brother, my friend. If I didn’t fight, I’d break.
Cracker. I turned on him, growling as pain rocketed through me, and intercepted him as he fled for the door.
I dragged him back, manhandling him to the tiles, one knife at his throat, the other pressed beneath his overhanging belly. “You fucking rat. I should gut you right here.”
Cracker gulped, but the fear in his bloodshot eyes wasn’t as deep as it needed to be.He doesn’t believe I’ll kill him.
And he was right. He was a rat, but he was still a brother, and there were better, more humiliating ways to end life as he knew it. My dad had taught me that.
I cold-cocked Cracker with the knife handle, knocking him out with one well-aimed blow.
He fell slack beneath me. I shoved my arms under his shoulders and dragged him out of the café, dumping him where I could keep eyes on him while I figured out what the fuck was going on.
The café was tucked away in the corner, a hole in the wall that turned out toasties and tea to locals affiliated to the club. There wasn’t much around it—just a couple of parking bays and the play park me and Saint had built one summer when I’d been so obsessed with him that I’d needed a plausible excuse to keep him shirtless and sweaty without acting on the fierce desire coursing through me.
It was why we had four double swing sets when, at the time, the sum total of MC kids the right age to play on them had come to a round three.
I couldn’t say why my head went there as I crept around them, every sense on high alert, but my brain was unmanageable right now.
Slow.
Dreamy.
And still throbbing like a motherfucker.
Clutching the kitchen knives, I reached the storage bins that stood between me and the yard. I leaned against one, taking the weight off, just for a moment.
My head swam, the buzzing in my ears so loud I doubled over and puked.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. It was bloody, but I couldn’t remember if it was mine or the intruder I’d killed. I didn’twantto remember.Stay sharp. It’s all you’ve got.
Nice pep talk, but I was spinning too hard to absorb it.
I came upright and took a slow breath, focussing on the knives in my hands, tightening my grip, gritting my teeth against the pain in my shoulder.
