Page 74 of Sparrow

“Mars treating you good?” he hisses. “Because you know you don’t belong to him. You belong to us.”

I don’t pause. God, I don’t even hesitate. I pull my other arm back, make a fist, and let it fly. I get him right in the nose and he goes down, gushing blood and snarling, and then Taryn and I are sprinting, our feet pounding the sidewalk as we run for the garage ahead. I can just make out the men milling around in the driveway, and thank the universe that they’re there. Plenty of them are there, and that means we’ll have protection if we can just get to where they can see us. They’ll get Mars and Orion and they’ll take care of this guy following us.

They’ll–

My heart stutters and stops for a moment, then takes off at a sprint, the beats too fast and sporadic to be right, and I feel my body start to respond. I’m not getting enough blood to my head, not enough to my legs, and suddenly everything gets wavy in front of my eyes. I can’t feel my feet and my hands have gone cold, and though Taryn is supporting me, my knees give out and send me to the concrete below.

Behind us, I can hear the man laughing like this is all going according to plan, and I’ve got a terrible, creeping feeling that he did plan it all. They came after me when they knew Mars and Orion were busy, and then they hassled me until my heart decided it didn’t want to deal with them anymore.

And now I’m on my knees on the sidewalk, Taryn jerking at me and trying to get me up.

I know it won’t work. I’ve been here before, and in seconds I’ll be unconscious and she’ll be here trying to fight that guy off by herself. All because she tried to help me instead of saving herself.

All my fault.

Again.

I look up at the club, desperately seeking someone’s eyes, and find Rooks standing on the sidewalk, staring. He takes one look at me, then the guy behind me, and Taryn at my side, and his face goes dangerously quiet.

My vision is already fading, though, and I can’t call out to him. I’m falling, blackness seeping in, and look again just long enough to see Rookie turning to grab Dutch, and the two of them sprinting toward us.

Orion

Mars and I are bent over my bike, working on the throttle while discussing Arden–and the fact that she’s a ticking time bomb–when Rookie comes skidding into the garage.

“Dutch needs you. It’s Arden,” he says simply.

That’s all it takes. Mars and I drop everything and sprint after him, tearing into the sunshine of the driveway and joining the rest of our men. Everyone is rushing to the left, up toward the diner and bakery, but I outpace them all, shoving my way to the front of the crowd. Ahead, I see Dutch standing over one of the Saints, shaking out his fist and giving the man a piece of his mind, and in front of them...

Fucking hell.

Arden on the ground, Taryn crouched over her.

A Saint on the ground behind them, Dutch’s knuckles bleeding from where he punched the guy.

I don’t need to know the whole story. Hell, I don’t even need to know where Arden’s been or why Taryn’s involved in this. I just have to get to my girl. I increase my speed to an all-out sprint and arrive in half a second, skidding to Arden’s side and taking her wrist.

I put my fingers to her pulse and look up at Taryn. “What happened?”

The girl doesn’t mince words. “We were at the cafe and the Saints came in. Arden got sick. We got out here and this guy started bothering us and she fainted.”

Good girl. Exactly the information I need, and nothing more. I scoop Arden into my arms, turn, and make for the house, leaving the Saints to my club and Taryn to Mars. I’m sure he’ll have more questions for her, but I don’t need to hear them. I’ve never needed all the information the way Mars does.

I just want to get my girl back to her bed, under her blankets, and safe.

I need to know that she’s okay before I bother figuring out which of the Saints I’m going to kill first.

Hours later, I walk out onto the porch with two tumblers of whiskey and hand one to my best friend. Then I go back for the bottle. When I return, Mars glances at the bottle and gives me a tired, resigned grin.

“Think it’s gonna be a long night?”

“Think it’s gonna be a night where I need to be drunk,” I reply.

He sighs. “The doc didn’t get anything out of her?”

“No more than last time. She’s had fainting spells but she’s fine. She won’t tell him her medical history. He thinks she’s dehydrated and tired. Says he can’t force her to tell him anything more than she is, and he can’t test her for anything if he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be looking for.”

Mars puts his hands over his face and rubs, and when he takes them away he looks like he’s aged about ten years in the last three hours. “This girl is going to be the death of us.”