He finally tore his gaze from the window. “How do you know I’ve never asked?”
“I do not. I am matching your personality to his and judging you both accordingly.”
Perhaps if Saint had been less fatigued, he’d have argued with me more.
Instead, he reached for me and lay cool hands on my shoulders. “Show me?”
I turned my back on him, gifting him a close-up view of the slash on my shoulder. It was far from the worst injury I’d ever suffered, but he was right that it needed closing. If not for the primal urge in my heart to reach Cam—and him—I’d have done it myself.
Saint examined the wound in silence. Then he put his lips close to my ear. “What happened?”
It was barely a whisper, but my gaze darted to the closed door anyway and I listened for Cam’s approaching footsteps.
Nothing reached me.
“He’ll be awhile,” Saint said. “Kit is in the chapel and every fucker will want a piece of him.”
“Do you blame them?”
“No. Tell me what happened.”
“I’d imagine you already know. I was too late to help raid the trafficking run, but it seems the Kings did not need my help.”
“Ineeded your help.” Saint shifted his hold on me, his cold fingers grazing my neck. “Cam was moving too fast for me to watch his back.”
“That’s how you got hurt?”
“I’m not hurt.”
“You are.” I spun around, allowing his hands to remain on my bare skin and took my turn examining the injury to his face. It wasn’t deep, but it needed cleaning and taping shut to protect from infection. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
“I tried to tell you it was over. That it was dangerous to approach.”
“The blank message?”
“I dropped my phone. It’s smashed to fuck.”
“That is why Cam could not reach you?”
“Maybe.” Saint’s gaze flickered. “Stop deflecting. What happened toyou?”
I brought my hands to Saint’s face, palms to his jaw. His scruff wasn’t as thick as Cam’s. Wasn’t as dark. “Three people came up on me. When they figured out I was not one of them, they wanted to burn me in the crashed truck.”
“You didn’t let them.”
“No, I did not.” I showed Saint my worst smile.
He didn’t blink. “Are you going to tell him?”
“Cam?”
“Yeah. This is gonna come down hard on us if we can’t end it before it starts blowing up.”
I knew that. Had known it as I was shifting bodies and the Italian features of the third assailant had become clear. “We need to reach the organisation that is pulling the strings and persuade them that killing Cam will not solve their problem.”
“It would, though, wouldn’t it?” Saint glanced to the closed door. “Cracker wants the gavel, and with Cam gone, there’s enough old timers who’d vote for him.”
“Cracker? The old man?” Saint nodded and I let my hands slide from his face. “Interesting. I wonder if he is feeding information to the Crows.”
