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The roadto the old outpost north of Thorn Valley could be a bitch in bad weather, and right now? Right now it was absolutely pissing down.
I cursed Diesel for picking it as the meeting point tonight, not just for the crap location, down thirty miles of gravel road, but because there wasn’t a secondary way out.
It was a dead-end at the outpost. Nowhere to go but back the way we came.
A great tactic if you didn’t think you’d need to make a hasty getaway, but tonight, all bets were off. If Lenny Ace admitted the little bitch who’d been grooming Becca was doing so at his command, Diesel would put two pieces of lead between his eyes.
It would either be them leaving here tonight, or us.
Maybe Diesel was counting on that.
But if Lenny Ace had half a fucking brain, he wouldn’t even come here tonight unless it was because he thought we could part ways without bloodshed. He had to know if it came to blood, they wouldn’t stand a chance. Their larger numbers be damned.
No one fucked with the Saints and lived. Not after Mom died. And especially not when the supposed target this go ’round was Diesel St. Crow’s sons.
The wipers slashed across the windshield, and I squinted to see through them, getting tense on Grey’s behalf even though he looked calm as ever as he maneuvered us toward the meet point. Deftly avoiding potholes and sections of washed out road as the rain beat out a pelting rhythm on the roof of the Rover.
“Does anyone have a phone I can use?” Ava Jade asked from the backseat.
“What for?”
Behind me, the whiskey in Rook’s flash sloshed for the eighth time since we’d left Briar Hall, signaling another swig. He didn’t bother answering Ava Jade, and I had a feeling he was still on the edge from earlier.
No one called Rook Clayton by his given name.
No one except his bastard uncle and the people at the sanitorium where they’d stuck him when they couldn’t handle him at the group home.
There was a reason he couldn’t stand the sound of it.
Much like certain words and symbols triggered memories from my past, and an empty refrigerator triggered Grey, it was Rook’s own name that triggered him.
“I don’t have a phone,” Ava Jade reminded me. “I just want to check socials and my email.”
“Becca?” I asked, not really expecting a response. I’d tried to talk to her about it earlier, but she’d shut me down. Diesel was right though, we needed the intel only Becca could give us. Like what the guy looked like, and whether he had any discernible tattoos. And everything he’d ever said to her.
“You can use mine,” Grey offered, but I was already lifting my ass from the seat to pull mine from my back pocket.
I slipped it to her between the seats, taking in her narrowed eyes.
She didn’t think it would be me who offered.
Why not?
It wasn’t like there was anything to find.
“Two, Seven, Four, One,” I told her as she took it. “That’s the code. Don’t forget to sign out and wipe the history.”
“No shit.”
I watched her in the rearview as her thumbs tapped over the screen, the blue light deepening the shadows of her sharply angled features.
Ava Jade Mason.
My Sparrow.
My undoing.
I couldn’t believe what went on with her and Diesel’s cop bait, and the only thing that kept me half-sane was thinking that she never would’ve gone through with it. That she knew she wouldn’t from the very fucking start, but needed to feel in control.
