Maybe it was the booze.
The weed.
But even though I’d rashly led Locke away from the safety of our brothers and out into the night, it was easy to push that shit away, just for this moment.
I knew Fernton well. Back when the club had been deeply entrenched in moving blow from the coast into the cities, we’d used the quiet beaches here to bring shit inland. We’d been out of that game for years now, our partners all dead at the bottom of the sea—thanks, Folk. But we still owned property here.
A bar—Cam’s.
A fishing tackle shop—Rubi’s.
A safe house disguised as a holiday apartment right on the seafront that technically belonged to Orla.
The key was in a fireproof combination box by the door, the code a scrambled mess in my head, but with Locke’s hand still warm in mine, I figured it out on the third try.
“Numbers really fuck with you, don’t they?”
I unlocked the door and tugged him inside. “I can count my fingers and still get it wrong. Unless it’s an engine. Then it all makes sense.”
Locke shut the door behind him, gaze flicking around the basic and clean apartment. “What is this place?”
“Safe house. And one of Cam’s shag pads when he was young and single.”
“You missed outfree.”
“Nah. He’s never been that.”
Locke grinned a little, understanding. “You never banged anyone here?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
Had we talked about this before? I couldn’t remember. “I have more fingers than notches on my bedpost.”
“You never lost count, eh?”
“I try not to think about it.” In fact, I never thought about it at all. Or the men Orla had been with in our wilderness years. Life was too short.
The apartment was three storeys up and guarded by one of Alexei’s security systems. I tweaked it, switching the cameras to external mode.
A second later, my phone vibrated with a text.
Alexei:I will let you know if anyone approaches. Be good.
Cheers, mate. I clicked out of the text and opened the fifty thousand Rubi had sent.
Ignored them all.
Decoy got my best manners.
Decoy:The accountant left me a message.I have Orla’s spare key. I’ll leave the Toyota down the road for you.
Love him. Of all the things I’d thought about in the last half hour, how we’d get home hadn’t crossed my mind. Didn’t need to when I had brothers like these.
Orla.
I tapped into our message thread. The text Locke had sent on my behalf was right fucking there.
