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I rested my head on Rook’s shoulder in the backseat as he smoked a cigarette out the window of the Rover, absently stroking his tatted fingers through my hair. I knew this wasn’t going to last. The second we left this car and went into Sanctum, the little bubble that’d been forming around us in the hospital would burst.
If the Kings were out for Saint blood, it meant there was another war on the horizon. And the puppet master of the whole damned thing was still out there. He could be waiting around any corner. Hiding in the shadows. Waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.
His number one target aside from me? My guys.
Even though my blood buzzed with the need for vengeance and a thirst for the blood of a dragon, I couldn’t take it if anything else happened to them. Not because of me.
“You ready for this, Sparrow?” Corvus asked, catching my eye in the rearview from the passenger seat. “We can postpone.”
“No we can’t.”
He worked his jaw, but nodded in reply, knowing I was right. Diesel had already begun putting precautions in place in case of an attack by the Kings. He’d also set up a meet with the Mexicans to get some more firepower. It was all hands on deck, now. The Saints were outmanned. But they weren’t outwomaned, and maybe that would be the difference that saved us all.
It was me Drake wanted after all. And since we’d already discerned he was the true head of that Kingsnake, I’d just have to cut his off to end it all before it could begin.
Before any more of us could die.
I didn’t know the other Saints very well, but I’d come to respect the hell out of most of them. Oddly enough, it was Axel’s death that hit me the hardest out of those who lost their lives in this bullshit. Even though he liked to watch Becca with fuck me eyes, I knew he was harmless, and would never touch her if she didn’t want that.
He was a good man.
So were some of the others who fell at the Docks.
All because I couldn’t help pulling that trigger.
I let out a shaky breath as the three story building came into view at the end of the downtown strip. Would they want me crucified?
Were my chances of ever truly being accepted into their ranks dashed now forever?
I shook my head, sighing at myself, finding Rook staring down at me curiously, with a dopey smile trying to curl up the edge of his mouth.
“I’ll cut anyone who looks at you sideways, Ghost. Promise.”
“How do you always do that?”
“Do what?”
“Read my mind.”
He shrugged, and I sat up in the middle seat, clutching the leather beneath me.
“Because it’s the same as mine.”
I snorted as we pulled into the parking lot out front. I hadn’t seen Diesel yet, either. He’d been through the hospital a couple times since the guys found me, checking on Corvus, bringing some supplies to the Saints he’d positioned there as sentries. But our paths hadn’t crossed yet, and I didn’t know if that was coincidence or by design.
I wasn’t avoiding him. Not really. Okay, maybe a little.
It was me who got his men killed. Who almost got his first son killed.
I was sure I wasn’t wrong thinking it was more by design than anything else. He probably didn’t want to see me any more than I wanted to see him.
I followed Rook from the Rover, chewing my lips as I tipped my head up, taking in the bar.
The shining tips of sniper barrels glinted in what remained of the sunlight filtering between the buildings, placed evenly in three of the six upstairs windows with another on the roof.
Turning, I found a further two in the building across the street. Diesel wasn’t taking any chances, it seemed, and I hoped they were all at least a decent shot.
Instinctively, I headed for the door around the back of the building that would lead downstairs to the underbelly of Sanctum, but Grey whistled to get my attention, indicating the front door with the inclination of his head.
