Page 13 of Ruin

He wheezed out a laugh at that. “Saraya, you weigh about one-third as much as I do. You can’t lift me, and I can’t get up, or I would have. What, you think I’m just lying around here for the fun of it? Go to Brock’s. Get help. Come back for me.”

I leaned back, frustrated, but a quick scan of his body told me that he was right. The man was enormous, and I’d have trouble supporting him even if he was able to help me. He’d been beaten so badly that I could absolutely believe that he couldn’t get up, though, and even moving him might be damaging with that bullet in his shoulder. On top of the bleeding from his older wound.

I didn’t want to leave him here for those guys to come back and kill. But moving him might kill him. If I could do it, which I was sure I couldn’t. Even if I did, there was no way I’d be able to keep him on the bike while trying to drive it to Brock’s. If he couldn’t stand, then I doubted he could sit up straight or hold on.

And logically speaking, if they thought he was already dead, why would they come back? Maybe... Maybe he’d be safest here, until I could come back with help. It was the middle of the night, and this was a back road rather than the main drag.

Maybe no one would bother him.

“I don’t want to leave you,” I repeated.

“And you don’t have a choice,” he responded quickly. “Go. The sooner you go, the sooner you get Brock, and the sooner I get help. Don’t be stupid, Saraya. If you’re going to play the hero, do it by getting help.”

I bit my lip, hating every part of that idea... but knowing that he was right.

And knowing that we didn’t have a lot of time. He was bleeding badly and might have internal injuries. I needed someone who could help me get him to a hospital, and if Brock was as close as Gem said he was...

“Okay, but I’m doing this under protest,” I said, standing up. “I’ll be back as quickly as I can. Don’t... talk to strangers.”

I left him snorting with quiet laughter behind me, his breathing sounding far too wet, and tore into the night once again, hoping that Brock would be home and have a truck we could use to transport Gemini, who was way too wounded to get onto a bike at this point.

CHAPTER 10

KNIGHT

I PULLED INTO BROCK’S driveway going way too fast and nearly hit the mailbox on the way in.

The truth was, I was doubly nervous about what I was going to find here. Gemini had said that he’d sent Saraya ahead of him to get the bike, and surely she’d gone back for him after she had it. She must have. There was no way she’d have left him out there on his own when she had a way to get him to safety. But that had been an hour ago, and I hadn’t heard from either of them since then. Had she found the bike and gotten back to him? Or had Devil’s guys found her—or him—and done what they set out to do in the first place?

And then the second worry: Brock was still missing. I knew he had missed calls on his phone from me and some of the other guys, but he hadn’t reached back out to me yet, and that alone was suspicious. Brock might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he always showed up when I needed him, and he always called back. The idea that he might be somewhere that made calling back impossible...

No, I told myself firmly. Devil had set the trap with Tinker as the bait, and if he’d had Brock as well, he would have used him. I was sure of it. We hadn’t seen Brock there, and I was hoping that meant he didn’t know about Tink yet and was here in his bed, asleep and safe.

He had to be. I didn’t think I could stand losing anyone else tonight.

When I pulled to a stop, though, I saw that the house was dark. That wouldn’t normally have been strange, given that it was the middle of the night, but Brock was a distrustful sort and always left the lights on, even when he was sleeping. Frowning, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my set of keys. Tinker and I both had keys to this place, just in case we needed a safe house, and Brock had never complained about me entering in the middle of the night before.

Ostensibly, this was a place Brock had rented so he could have some privacy. He liked to bring women here to have them to himself, rather than subjecting them to the guys. He also, I knew, liked having the space. Everyone had a suite to themselves in the clubhouse, but for a guy as large—and private—as Brock, it had never been enough. He spent most of his time at the clubhouse, but when he wanted to be alone, this was where he came. A lot of people mistook Brock as stupid, but that was the furthest thing from the truth. He was crafty, but he tried to avoid violence. Gentle with his friends and loyal to a fault. He was also curious, brutally so, which was why the garage of this place was filled with experiments.

Women didn’t often understand him, which was why he generally only kept them around for a single night—and almost always in this house. I hoped he was alone right now, because I didn’t feel like dealing with the dramatics of some girl who didn’t understand MC culture.

Hell, I hoped he was even in the house at all. I’d deal with a dramatic and probably drunk girl if it meant he was here and safe.

I slid out of the car and crept toward the front door, key in hand and my eyes flitting from one side of the driveway to the next. This was dangerous territory because everyone in Devil’s crew knew Brock and knew that he had a house other than the clubhouse. They might not know his exact address, but it wouldn’t have been hard for them to figure it out.

I was guessing that was the first thing they did when they kidnapped Tinker: Figure out where his brother might be coming from so they could stop him.

I moved into the shadow of the big oak tree just to the side of the house and paused, listening closely for anything that sounded amiss—or like Saraya and Gemini talking. I didn’t see a bike out here, but they would have hidden it in the back, if they were smart. If they were even smarter, they were already in the house. Hopefully with Brock.

I turned toward the closest window and leaned forward, barely daring to breathe. It was black as the underside of a cauldron in there, though, which made me wonder. I couldn’t see a single thing, and the lack of light—in a house that always had at least one light on—made me distinctly nervous.

Maybe another window would give me a better view.

I made my way toward the patio around the front door and found another window. This one was just as dark, though, and my instincts started to kick in. Something was wrong here. I’d thought that the lack of light was odd, but had been hoping I just hadn’t seen the light, or that Brock was in there sleeping. But it was dead quiet in the house, and it didn’t feel like there was a human being hiding out behind those walls.

Not a live human being, anyhow.

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to get a grip on myself, and went through what I knew. Brock was missing and hadn’t answered or returned any of the calls. No texts, nothing. No one had seen him since earlier—before Tink was kidnapped.