I shoved my phone in my pocket, jammed my helmet back on, and revved my engine, peeling off the Bristol site and into the evening traffic. In a van, I’d have stood no chance of making it back in time. On my bike, it was easy, and I flew home with only concern for Saint clouding the adrenaline in my veins.
Fifty-nine minutes later, I tore through the gates and skidded to a stop.
Locke met me, brows raised. “Something wrong?”
Truthfully, I had no idea, but I wasn’t about to tell Locke that. I gave him my helmet and keys. “Got somewhere to be. Can you park up for me and give Orla the keys?”
Locke nodded without question and let me go.
I sprinted from my bike and into the clubhouse, hurdling the stairs. There was no time to shower the grime from my skin, but there was shit I needed with me if I was hitting the road. Non-negotiable shit like medication. A toothbrush, dry clothes, and the lemon oil Mateo had gifted me up on the roof.
I threw it all in a bag and dashed back downstairs and across the compound. The newly acquired HGVs lived around the back of the timber yard. When I’d left that morning, they’d been lined up, ready for loading, four in total, in the order they’d be travelling on the road. Nash and Rubi first, then two teams of trusted brothers before Mateo and Saint brought up the rear, tail gunning, like they did on their hogs when we rode out as a club.
Except, it wasn’t going to be Mateo and Saint this time.
It was Mateo andme.
I reached the convoy, the trucks facing the opposite direction from when I’d last seen them.
They were idling. Nash stood beside the lead vehicle while he talked on the phone. He caught my eye and frowned, then nodded as the conversation he was having clearly explained my presence.
I saw no one else, just the open passenger door of the truck at the rear and Mateo’s tattooed forearm as I hauled myself up.
His wide eyes and full, parted lips as my bag hit the seat before I did. “What the fuck?”
“Change of plan.” I landed where I needed to be. “Saint’s not coming.”
Mateo opened his mouth to react, but the blare of Nash and Rubi’s horn cut him off.
The lead truck began to move.
It was time to go.
Mateo put the HGV in gear and the huge engine rumbled beneath me, deeper and meatier than the powerful bikes I was used to. He turned the steering wheel, biceps popping, and I was instantly transfixed. My heart was still worried about Saint and Cam, but if this was my view for the next four days, I’d take it.
The convoy left the compound and eased onto the main road. I’d never been in a lorry this big. Mateo drove it like he drove everything. Slowly. Methodically. Like he was halfway between transporting a newborn baby and bored with life entirely.
It took me longer to get acclimatised to being so high up in a cab that was so huge I couldn’t reach the ceiling. “This is like a shed on wheels.”
Mateo kept his gaze on the road. “What kind of sheds did you grow up with?”
“The kindon wheels, but not this big. Is that a bed back there?”
“And a bog, but me and Decoy already made a pact not to use it.”
“Don’t want to clean it?”
“Life’s too short, mate.”
I slid out of my seat to inspect the quarters behind us. Hidden by a curtain, it contained a bunk, a mini fridge, a TV on a bracket, and a tiny sink and a portable toilet that had been taped shut with hazard tape and graffitied with a Sharpie.
The rogue artwork was a no entry sign that had been made to look like an angry pomegranate with wings. A hundred per cent Mateo’s work, as if I couldn’t tell by his standard numerical signature. The bed with the hospital corners and neatly folded duvet was all Decoy. “You two should get married. Match made in heaven.”
Mateo grunted and yanked the curtain back in place, cutting himself off from me.
I laughed and opened the fridge, poking through the energy drinks and snacks. They were all shite until I came to the foil-wrapped packages I’d seen Rubi messing with the night before.
Sausage rolls, one set with fennel and chilli for Mateo, plain ones for Saint, because I didn’t have a single brother who wasn’t an absolute sweetheart one way or another.
