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“No Ava Jade yet?” Dies questioned, his gaze tracking around the quiet pub.
The wrinkles in his forehead deepened. “Where the fuck is Corvus?”
I pressed my lips shut.
If Corv hadn’t threatened the sentries Dies had placed at all the exits, they would’ve notified him Corvus left hours ago.
I assumed Corv planned to be back before Diesel was.
He texted an hour ago to say he wouldn’t make it.
He was only digging his own grave.
“Goddammit,” Diesel said between clenched teeth. “When did he leave?”
“Ten minutes after you did,” Rook admitted, knowing Diesel would find out anyway. Besides, I got the feeling Rook was done covering for our big brother. His slight with Ava Jade wouldn’t soon be forgiven. By either of us.
And if she didn’t come back…
“Where did he go?” Diesel demanded.
“To check on a friend,” I supplied. “We haven’t heard from her in a while.”
“Becca went with him,” Rook added. “Hisbackup.”
Diesel tipped his head back, exasperated as he dragged a palm down his chin.
“The boy is fucking lucky we already swept the entire city. What was he thinking? With his injuries? Taking off into the streets still sour with the smell of spilled blood…”
It was a rhetorical question, and he lifted a hand to silence Pinkie when he tried to say something, lifting his cell phone from his pocket to dial Corvus.
I winced for my brother as the quiet sound of the line ringing filled my ears.
After a moment, the impersonal automated voicemail message from the service provider sounded, rattling off the phone number with a request to leave a message at the tone.
Diesel growled as he hung up, his thumbs flying over the screen as he typed what I knew would be a vicious text message. For a guy who expected us to reply to him immediately, he really did have a double standard with that shit.
Dies stuffed the phone back into his pocket and sighed, resetting himself as he stood at his full height. Out of the skin of an angry parent and back where he fit best, into the battle-hardened flesh of a gang leader.
“Let’s do this downstairs,” he decided. “We don’t need Mav seeing this mess.”
He indicated the broken men around us, not needing to point out the obvious. That the majority of the injured were Saints. Not Kings.
They didn’t quite outnumber us now, but it was close.
Too close for Diesel’s comfort.
Rook lifted his leg off the stool.
“Not you,” Dies hissed at him. “You park your ass there and keep that shit elevated.”
“You know he’s just going to follow us,” I protested.
Diesel glared at Rook, and my brother gave him a plaintive shrug.
“Not if I make you stay,” he challenged, jerking his chin at Pinkie, who stepped forward.
Rook lifted his gun from his waistband and set it on the stool where his leg was only a second ago, between him and Pinkie.
