“He led them out. Did six runs to get everyone to safe houses and sent the rest to Lizard. I ain’t heard from him in a while, though. My phone’s bust.”
“They took out the mast,” Saint said. “That’s how I knew it was starting, but most of the members were out by then.”
I didn’t understand how I’d missed that happening.
“You weren’t in the chapel when I came to tell you.” Nash read my thoughts and guilt passed through his features. “The lights were off. I didn’t see the blood on the floor until we came back to do a sweep and they locked us in and gassed us.”
“Jesus.” I scrubbed a filthy, bloody hand down my face. “I killed the dude Cracker hired to kill me.”
“Aldea hired him too. He was a double agent.” Alexei’s voice was distant.
I was still clutching him like a starving man.
He peeled my hand from his wrist and stepped back, looking beyond me to where Cracker lay unconscious on the ground.
I saw where his brain went, but he moved before I could stop him. “Lexi.”
He ignored me and I staggered after him until strong hands pulled me back.
Saint.
“Get the fuck off me.” Whole, I might’ve fought him off, but Saint’s hold on me was absolute.
Alexei reached Cracker. He crouched.
Moments later, I knew Cracker was dead.
I felt sick. “Lexi.”
It was a whisper this time, but it reached him and he turned his glittering gaze on me, shaking his head. “This man conspired to have your father killed long before he came for you. As long as he lived, you would never have the life you want.”
Saint’s tightening grip told me he agreed.
I turned to Nash, my level-headed VP.
He metAlexei’sgaze and nodded. “Sits right with me.”
Fucking hell. The realist in me accepted the logic—Cracker had been happy to burn me alive in the café, after all—but I wasn’t sure if Alexei knew that. If any of them did, and I wasn’t about to tell them. This crazy night was fucked up enough as it was.
Spinning, I leaned heavily on Saint. His hand slipped under my grimy T-shirt and he swiped his thumb over the base of my spine. The touch was hypnotic, and I almost passed the fuck out, but the roar of approaching bikes jarred me to life.
Lots of bikes.
Tension rocketed through me. I lurched away from Saint and spun around as the lights of too many bikes to count illuminated the yard.
Rubi swept in, every brother in arms at his back, and then dozens more from every chapter from Cornwall to Reading.
Jesusfuck, it was a sight to behold, one that nearly sent me to my knees again.
The bikes began to park up. A beat-up hog with faded red paint was closest to me. The rider dismounted and ripped off his helmet.
Only it wasn’t a he. It was a woman with chocolate locks down to her waist and furious obsidian eyes.
“Orla? What the fuck?”
She threw her helmet at my feet. “Don’t fucking start. You look like you died already.”
Nash caught her as she flew at me, seizing her by the waist. “Easy. I didn’t give you a bike so you could run your brother over with it. This shit ain’t his fault.”
