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As I tugged her onto Sinners’ property, I felt like I was signing a warrant on my destiny.
Death?
Maybe.
I’d been outrunning death since I was a kid, though, so that was nothing new.
Arrest?
Same thing.
I’d wasted too many years inside a jail cell.
I wasn’t a good man. No Sinner was. But that didn’t mean we didn’t have our own code of ethics that we lived by. I couldn’t leave her out here, as vulnerable as a chicken who’d found herself in a fox’s den.
Not just because she was Sin’s sister, either.
“Where are we going?” she rasped as I hurried her over to the gatehouse.
“I need to get you out of sight from the clubhouse.”
She peered at me but had the smarts not to argue.
Still, did Five Pointers send their women out into the world with no street smarts whatsoever?
Jesus Christ.
When we were in the tiny shelter, she asked, “What’s going on?”
Did she know her lashes were ridiculously long?
I was used to seeing those false spikes, but these weren’t. They were all natural. Everything about her was. She didn’t even use that much makeup, but makeup on her skin would have been a crime against nature anyway.
My jaw clenched as I shoved those inappropriate thoughts away. “I don’t want them to see you up at the clubhouse.”
“Why not?”
I didn’t answer her.
The Five Points were business associates. We werenotallies. And though she was related to Sin, she wasn’t related to anyone on the council that led the MC, which was a problem.
Sin had Rex’s ear, but Sin wasn’t fucking here, so he couldn’t help.Seeing as he’d just taken off, he wouldn’t be able to answer his phone yet, and with her guards on the hunt, time was running out for her. She didn’t have time to wait for Sin to deign to answer my call.
If a barrage of Five Pointers were currently ramming their way down the Jersey turnpike to find Mary Catherine, the council might throw her back to them to avoid a war if I didn’t get involved.
I scrubbed my hand over my jaw. “What was the game plan?”
She swallowed as she shuffled over to perch on the armrest of the armchair. As she did, I took in her poise, how straight her spine was, how daintily she tucked her feet together.
So, they gave daughters of the Irish mob lessons on grace but not on self-defense—got it.
“The game plan?” She released a shaky breath. “When Father told me—” Father, not Dad—got it.“I knew I couldn’t react. If I reacted, he’d throw me in my room. If I was in my room, I couldn’t escape. I knew I had to get to Sin.”
“So, Sin was the game plan?” I queried, hoping that she wasn’t about to say yes.
She bit her lip and gave me a wordless answer.
Shit.
