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I don’t remember him driving me home or helping me to bed. I just know I’m in bed and Ian is standing in the doorway, staring worriedly at me.
“I’m fine,” I say, waving at him. “Don’t worry so much. You’ll give yourself gray hair.” He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t react. He just stares. I scoot further under my blankets, smiling at him reassuringly.
“Call if you need anything,” he says warily. “I won’t have my headset on—”
“I’m fine,” I say again. He hesitates before he steps out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.
My eyelids are too heavy to stay open, but when I close them the room spins. I don’t know why I let myself get drunk tonight, I never do this. The last time I drank with Archer, it ended with us waking up next to each other.
At least that didn’t happen tonight.
Kiwi
It’s been a long time since I’ve driven across the state. I wish I would’ve been on my bike, but I can’t exactly take Ginger back to Santa Cruz riding bitch. So, I drove my fucking car, which isn’t nearly as cool as my bike. Riot, the fucker, said he’d meet me here. So, I’ve been left waiting.
I left straight from Kennedy’s place and drove ten hours straight. My mind couldn’t stop replaying our fight. Over and over, her words slashed through me. But worse, my words slashed through me, deeper than any blade ever has.
I can’t stop thinking about her, regretting everything. I know she’ll never forgive me, and why should she? I fucked up and I know that, but I don’t know how to apologize for it.
I don’t apologize.
I don’t fuck up.
But this time I did.
I can’t afford to let her overtake my thoughts tonight. One wrong move could get me killed.
I was worried the entire drive that I’d never be able to focus on this, on finding and taking Ginger. But now that I’m here, hiding and waiting for Riot, the night shrouding me, I feel invigorated. I’m ready to hunt him down. Every other emotion I’ve felt in the past few hours fades away. It’s only me and my prey.
I’m standing outside the rat's house. It’s more of a fucking compound, but nothing is fully secure. There’s always a way in. I flick my cigarette to the ground and stomp it out with the toe of my boot.
Belfast sent me a layout of the house and pointed out where the guards didn’t patrol. So, that’s where I’m heading first. He doesn’t have a lot of guards, so it seems his father didn’t want to take the time or money out to protect his last living son.
I glance at my watch again. Two-fifteen in the morning. Riot was supposed to be here before two. We were supposed to go over a plan, but we’re running out of time.
A hand lands on my shoulder, and my body reacts. Grabbing their wrist, I spin as I try to fling them over, but they twist out of my hold effortlessly. My chest heaves as I scan the darkness for them, but nothing. They’re a fucking ghost.
Then it hits me.
“Fucking Riot,” I say, my teeth clenched. “We don’t have time for this.”
“Then stop being a bitch and let’s go,” he says too close to my side. I spin around, finding nothing but a shadow darker than the rest of the black forest around us. “You haven’t changed. Still reacting without thinking. Still unaware of your surroundings.”
“I knew you were there,” I say. I can’t see his face in the darkness, but I know he rolled his eyes.
“Sure.” His massive body shifts as he shuffles his feet, readying himself for whatever we’re about to do. “Did you look at the layout?” I nod. “Follow my lead.”
“No,” I scoff. “This fucker infiltrated my club. He’s mine. You follow my lead.” There’s a tense beat of silence, then he grunts his agreement.
“Fine, but if I think you’re fucking around, I’m taking over.” I roll my eyes and turn my back on him. Which is probably the most dangerous fucking thing to do to a mercenary.
I walk along the fence line, ignoring the presence at my back. I can’t see past the solid wall, but I can see enough to know that lights are on. A few guards are stationed outside, a few inside, but it’s mostly security cameras we need to avoid.
Once we’re at the back of the property, I hoist myself onto the stone wall and drape my legs over the other side. My guns are strapped to my legs and hips, my machete sheathed across my back like a sword, and my other fighting knives are within easy grabbing distance.
I’m ready to kill everyone.
My blood thrums as I stalk closer. I’m alert of everything—the killing haze brings me more clarity than I’ve ever felt. There’s nothing and no one getting past my senses, not tonight.
