Page 53 of Two Tricks

Leaning against the car, I called Brian.

“Dax! God, I’ve been so worried about you—you dropped off the face of the earth,” Brian blurted when he answered.

“I’m all good, just needed to deal with some stuff on the down low. Look, I don’t have a lot of time to explain things, but I need you to spread the word that Diego De León has teamed up with the Mad Dogs MC and they’re gunning for us,” I explained.

The silence on the other end had me frowning.

“Does this mean it’s true that you took out his kid?”

“No, Brian, I didn’t take out his kid. I didn’t even know he had one,” I said through my teeth. “They are spreading rumors to stir shit up in our house, and seeing how you are questioning me on this, I’d say it’s working. Tell me, Brian—you still with me, or do I need to consider this your resignation?”

Everyone knew that when you were in as deep as Brian, there was no leaving the empire alive. I liked him because he was a good guy and did his job perfectly, but I couldn’t have someone so high up questioning things when we were headed for war.

“If what you’re telling me is that they killed Jeff just to make us doubt you, then I’m all in. His wife just had their first kid, you know. He didn’t deserve to go like that. Hell, it could have been me they picked to make an example out of. Don’t worry Dax, I got your back. I trust you to tell me what I need to know. Now what can I do for you?” Brian asked, his tone all business.

“I need you to send a cleanup crew to the address I send you, and I need you to oversee them personally. The Mad Dogs went after someone very important to me, and I need to make sure that this is handled with the utmost care so nothing falls back on her,” I instructed.

“Sure thing, boss. Sounds like you’ve been busy—two cleanups in one night. They’re not fucking around, are they,” Brian sighed.

“No, they sure aren’t. I’ll have more information for you in the next twenty-four hours. They wanted a war, they’re gonna get one. They’re gonna regret the day they fucked with my people,” I growled and hung up.

Rubbing my forehead, I took a moment before I slid into the car and started it up. I glanced back at Harper, who met my eyes with a little more life in them. I smiled, and she gave me a half-hearted one in return, letting me know that I hadn’t lost her completely.

I’d never been a fan of her tiny little car, but as we wove through traffic, I was starting to appreciate its value. The sky was starting to lighten slightly with dawn approaching, and I was even more thankful to get out of the city before the rest of the world woke up. Once on the more open, rural roads, it was smooth sailing. The quiet in the car was relaxed, and I left it that way.

“Ugh,” Picasso groaned as he started to wake up, rubbing the back of his head. “Why does my head hurt so much? Wait, why the fuck am I in a clown car?”

Looking at him out of the corner of my eye, I smirked. “It seems we need to work on your infiltration skills. Nothing like a pistol whip to the head to make a great story for your first hostage rescue.”

Picasso glared at me, then he caught sight of Harper in the back seat and relaxed a little. “Looks like you weren’t lying when you said you didn’t need my help.”

“Hey, I tried to tell you this isn’t my first rodeo. The cesspool of people I have to deal with puts you in all kinds of situations. You have to learn to manage. Six on one is a personal favorite of mine—it makes it challenging enough that I have to actually try,” I gloated.

“Dax, are you saying this is normal for you?” Harper whispered, her eyes wide in horror.

The grin on my face fell as fear grew in my heart that she might never look at me the same after this conversation. “This is something I wish you never had to learn about me, Harper. I did everything I could to keep you clear of all this. I promise, once we are safe and you get some rest, I will answer any questions you have, if you want to ask them.”

She turned her gaze away from me but didn’t say anything more. Once again, the car fell into silence, but this time it wasn’t so comfortable. I pressed the gas down further, needing to get free from the tension that was building in the small space.

* * *

As I pulled up right in front of Eagle’s house, I wasn’t surprised to see all the lights on, a beacon guiding me back. The internal sigh of relief to be back caught me by surprise as I opened my door. Picasso carefully unfolded himself from the small space, trying not to hit his head again. The front door opened a few moments later, Wes and Eagle coming out to meet us.

They both made a beeline right to me, but I waved them off, not wanting their attention. Wes sighed and went to Harper, tucking her under his arm and bringing her into the house. Eagle glared at me, letting me know this wasn’t over as he grabbed his brother by the back of his neck and pulled him into a strange bro hug.

Exhausted but knowing that sleep wasn’t coming any time soon, I trudged up the steps, where I found Sprocket holding the door open for me. I smiled at him when I saw the coffee mug in his hand that he held out. Cupping it with two hands, I let the heat of the cup revive me, giving me the push to keep going.

Sprocket pulled me to the coffee table, where he sat me down. I raised a brow at him, but he just signaled for me to wait. Not having the energy to argue, I just sipped on my coffee and looked around for Cognac and Void, but I didn’t see either. After a minute, Sprocket returned with a large first aid kit and started pulling things out that he needed.

“Pants off,” he instructed.

“Gosh, buy a girl dinner first, would ya,” I teased, feeling a little punch drunk.

His green eyes held mine, and I saw there was no humor in his gaze. What I found surprised me—Sprocket was angry. Setting my mug down, I stood, undoing my thigh holster and setting it to the side before shimmying off my jeans. I hissed I peeled the fabric off my thigh, the dried blood caused the material to stick to the skin around my injury. It started bleeding again, making Sprocket’s frown deepen.

He moved with practiced ease as he cleaned the wound, not speaking a word to me. His touch was gentle but thorough.

“Looks like it’s gonna need stitches,” Sprocket said, still refusing to look at me as he grabbed more supplies.