He always had.
16
Saint
Alexei:You are safe?
Saint:yes. ru?
Alexei:Yes.
Alexei:So is Cam
Saint:i know
I climbed off my bike, gaze fixed on the screen and the messages Alexei had sent from the burner he’d commandeered since Cam had chucked his regular phone.
Still didn’t know why that had happened, but it didn’t concern me much. This, however...
Alexei rarely texted me. In fact, we’d exchanged more messages before we’d known each other, and all of them tactical. Short. Concise.
To be fair, so were the seven words he’d sent me in the last half hour, but something about them had a deep frown creasing my forehead.
“Problem?” Nash appeared at my side, helmet under his arm, blond hair a mess of waves.
He didn’t glance at my screen—he knew better than that. But his gaze was sombre, like it had been since we’d witnessed the Crows executing an unknown player in the woodland close to their compound. These fools weren’t playing around.It wasn’t Rocco.I didn’t know why that mattered, but it did.
It matters because if they’ve caught him already, they’ll come looking for us next.And it was a fight we weren’t ready for yet. A war I wasn’t sure Cam was even willing to wage. Sex trafficking was his trigger. Always had been. But we were depleted. Still licking our wounds. If Butch Crow came for us now, even with Alexei making his own rules, I wasn’t sure we’d win.
“Hey.” Nash nudged me. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Sure? I know I’m not Cam or Alexei, but I’m here for you, man.”
“I don’t need you.”
Nash’s face creased with mock offence, but he was derailed by Orla emerging from the clubhouse and bearing down on us, her boots clomping on the concrete. “What are you doing up so late?”
“Early, you mean.” She stopped beside us. “I just got here.”
Nash blinked, fatigue suddenly flooding his features. “Shit. Is it morning already?”
“It’s gone six.”
“Fucking winter.” Nash rubbed his face. “Everything okay?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“On who I got in the secret Santa. I haven’t looked yet.” Orla held up an envelope. In her other hand, she held a stack more. “I have yours here.”
I shook my head. “Burn mine.”
“Can’t. Ivy said you have to do it.”
Fuck’s sake.I eyed the envelopes with rising apprehension. The first time she’d made me play this game, I’d drawn Cracker. I’d bought him a cactus in the hope that he’d sit on it and die. It was still in his office. So was the one-way ticket to Poland I’d bought him the year after that. Since then, I’d dodged it, but Orla had me pinned. And Ivy? Damn, I’d seen that kid angry.
