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I feel like shit.
Jesus fuck, did we fuck this up. I can’t blame Faith either. We all knew this plan was shit, even her, but it’s like we can’t say fucking no to her. We should’ve locked her up in Alpha’s room and not let her out until Eagle-eye gave us the go-ahead.
But we’re going to get her back or die trying. HerandBlade.
Self-pity is for the weak, and actions speak louder than words. I’ll save it for when we know something happened. Right now, we need to know where she is, and we need a new fucking plan.
We roll through the compound gates like dogs with our tails between our legs, the engines the only sound when we pull up and park.
Miriam, Alessa and Emily, along with the few guys left behind to keep the place safe, are waiting for us on the staircase in front of the clubhouse. As soon as they see us, their expressions fall. “No luck?” asks Miriam, coming down to meet Eagle-eye.
He shakes his head and she wraps her arms around his waist. He might keep saying that he’s too old for a new relationship, but if he really believes that, then he’s the only fucking one. Even Faith had it figured out, and she barely sees him.
I get off my bike, and prop it on the kickstand before I do something stupid. There’s a punching bag in my quarters, and I’m going to pound that fucker to bits. I’ve never been good at waiting.
A lot of eyes follow me as I walk towards the clubhouse, and none of them friendly. All of them silently accusing me of fucking up. Most of those fuckers wouldn’t even know Faith from one of the sluts, but they all know that Strike Team Motherfucking Alpha is a motherfucking screw-up today.
Fuck, I know it, and that’s the worst part.
Alpha falls into line beside me. “How did that go south so fast?”
I shake my head. No fucking words.
“Hey, fuck-ups.” Eagle-eye blocks our way in. “What kind of bullshit is this? You were begging me—fucking begging—to make this right. Go prep. The moment we know where she is, we’re rolling out, and I’m going to be counting on both of you. You’re the fuckers with something to prove today.”
He’s right and I fucking know it. That doesn’t make me any less frustrated. “Of course we’ve got something to fucking prove, but prep what? Clean my gun? Change my oil? None of it will get Faith back.” I try to push past him, but he shifts so I can’t get through the door. “What the fuck?”
“Get your fucking head in the game, Ripper. The moment the news comes in, we’re hitting the damn road, and you better be ready. That goes for you too, Alpha. You fucked up, but I’m fully expecting the both of you to show me exactly why the fuck I made you the motherfucking strike team to begin with.” Then he finally steps aside. “Clear?”
“Crystal,” Alpha says.
“Yeah. Clear.” I envy Viking and the guys. The Cleanup Crew have a goal, and they’re racing to achieve it, while we’re stuck here sitting on our fucking thumbs.
“Let me the fuck in. I need to talk to Eagle-eye.” We all turn to the new speaker at the front gate, yelling across the courtyard.
Fuck, it’s Razor, the Pit Viper that let us go. What the fuck is he doing here?
Chef’s got gate duty today, and he’s not fucking happy with what he sees. “Fuck off, Viper. You looking to get shot?” His gun is in his hand in a moment, pointed right at Razor’s head.
“What the fuck is this?” Eagle-eye starts down the stairs, his hand going to his belt, before he jogs closer. “Razor? Jesus fuck, you’ve gotten old.”
“You know this fucker?” Chef’s still got his gun up.
“Idid.” Eagle-eye ignores the hand Razor puts out. “The question is, what the fuck are you doing here? You should know the Pit Vipers aren’t exactly welcome.”
I can’t fucking hold it in anymore. Taking the stairs down two at a time, I’m already drawing my gun. “Where’s Faith? Do you fucking know?” I point the barrel right at his head, my hand shaking I’m so fucking furious. “Do. You. Fucking. Know?”
“Ripper.” Alpha puts a hand on my shoulder, but he doesn’t try to pull me away either. “Don’t do something stupid.”
“I’m not shooting anyone. Not unless he gives me reason to. But you’d better fucking answer my question.”
“He fucking saved us. Remember?”
Eagle-eye eyes my gun, but he doesn’t make me put it down. “Ripper’s right. I’m not interested in teary reunions until I’ve got Faith back. Do you know where the fuck she is?”
Razor nods. “I do.” Then he does something I’d never think I’d see a blooded member of any club do. He slowly and deliberately takes off his cut and tosses it on the ground. “But before I talk, I need something back. I want asylum.”
30
