Chapter Seventeen
James
“If I have expressive veins, then your glares went to fucking art school.”
I force myself to focus on Theo, trying and failing to process what he said. “What?”
He shrugs. “Sounded wittier in my head. What's going on with you? Your glares are more glaring than normal.”
“Yes. Very witty. Practically Shakespeare.” Fuck. Now she’s got me making random references.
“So?” He nudges my leg with his foot. I’m lying on the clubhouse couch, feet propped on the old coffee table and an icepack on each shin to help bring down the inflammation.
Marcus informed me that I’m getting shin splints, and as common as the injury is, they still hurt like a bitch.
He’ll want me to rest, take a break from the ring, but fuck that. I’ll just take more ice baths.
“Again, what?”
Theo prompts a hang-around to get off the couch and takes the vacated spot, dropping next to me. “I just watched you glare angrily at our new prospect for laughing too loudly, and he fled the room. The veteran, James. Not Nico’s fresh-faced new bestie.”
There’s a slight tilt to his lips, which pisses me off for some reason. Our world is falling apart around us, going up in flames, and he’s over here smiling more than I’ve seen him smile since losing Shiloh.
“He’s too arrogant. He may be a vet, but he didn’t come from a Saints chapter. He’s still a prospect here.”
“He was laughing.”
I give the ice a small, impatient shove, then adjust it properly.
Marcus might’ve been right about me pushing too hard the last few days.
But every time I remembered Sadie’s face on Sunday night with those goddamn tears in her eyes that I caused, a fresh wave of self-loathing provoked a harder workout.
If Marcus hadn’t been wearing his sparring headgear, I probably would’ve shattered his jaw.
“Have you always been such a miserable bastard, or is this a fun, special edition James we get to enjoy?”
“Sorry we can’t all fall in love with psychotic murderers.” I regret it as soon as I say it. Not because June isn’t a psychotic murderer—she is—but because we’re not alone. We’re in the clubhouse, and the extent of her hobbies isn’t well known.
Theo whips his head around, checking to make sure we weren’t overheard. When he turns his attention back to me, I barely avoid flinching.
“You may be my brother, but if you ever put her in danger of any kind just because you’re feeling pissy, I will shove your face into my bike’s engine immediately after a Saturday ride, got it?”
I dip my chin in acknowledgement.
He takes a moment to gather his patience before speaking again. “When you’re done brooding, let me know. Kip has a solo job for us.”
I perk up. Our last solo was back in November. I prefer these to chop jobs, and I think this is exactly what I need.
Unfortunately, it might not be a good idea.
“The Fivers are watching our every move,” I say. “And Bowie apparently knows about these jobs. You sure now is a good time?”
“It’s a straightforward job. A girl’s ex won’t leave her alone, but the cops won’t take her seriously when she tries to file a report.”
“Tell June. Sounds up her alley.”
He puffs out a breath of amusement, a distant look filling his eyes as he thinks about his girlfriend. “Unfortunately, the ex is a girl. Not June’s type.”
“You sure? Heard Luna got a very different impression.”
His scowl is decidedly unamused at my reference to the ménage à trois he enjoyed with his little reaper and our ravenous Luna.
“I’m never telling you anything private ever again.”
“Mhmm, okay.”
“Anyway, this is squarely our territory, not hers. Besides, she’s… satiated for now.”
“Is that where you two disappeared to on Saturday after the ride?”
“I plead the fifth.” He says it with a heated, self-satisfied look on his face, and I wonder what exactly he’s remembering. His girlfriend cackling while she chopped off some asshole’s dick, probably.
“She took you with her?”
Instantly, his expression softens into something much deeper and full of love.
My chest aches with pressure, as if being dragged hundreds of feet into the ocean.
I know that being trusted with the most intimate, vital part of her life meant more to Theo than if she’d gotten his name tattooed on her forehead and dragged him to Vegas to get hitched.
Wanting to spare him the emotion of talking about this further, I say, “So, we have a crazy ex to get rid of?”
“Yeah. Might take more than a quick scare, though. The ex is a firefighter and apparently not easily deterred.”
“Everyone has a weakness. We’ll find hers.” Saying that makes me think about my own weaknesses: Theo and the rest of the club. That’s it.
“I thought we were partners in this.”
The words fill my head involuntarily, bringing with them an ice-cold sensation that fills my bones and muscles.
I lean forward, shove the icepacks off my shins, and stand. “Let’s go, then,” I say, storming out of the clubhouse without a second glance at Theo.
The job is so simple that we’re finished and celebrating with a drink at the Iron Cage before ten p.m. on Thursday. I’m pouring myself a third glass when the front door slams open and three people stumble in, covered in blood.
No, only the middle is covered in blood. And he’s not moving. The other two are carrying him.
Instantly on high alert, I follow Theo, running to the front of the bar, where a crowd is quickly forming.
“What the fuck happened?”
Valor and Zion slowly lower the man they’d been supporting to the floor.
Zion goes next, landing on his ass and leaning back against the wall.
I drop down to examine the man they carried in, and with a harshness I’m too familiar with, a taloned hand reaches down my throat and fists my insides, pulling free until I’m completely hollow.
Matthew.
It’s Matthew on his back, a giant gash at the bottom of his stomach and the number ‘5’ carved into his chest.
He’s dead.
~
How the fuck did they know?
That’s the only thought that’s managed to penetrate the hazy wall of shock and grief upon seeing my friend, brutalized and murdered. While I sat there and stared at his unmoving face, Theo shouts orders, taking control as always.
How did they know?
This is retaliation for Barnes. It must be. There’s no other reason they would specifically kill him and claim the kill so publicly.
Which means this is my fault.
I’m at fault for someone I care about dying.
Again.
But how did they know?
And why would they target Matthew and not me? I’m the one who killed Barnes, not him.
“James!”
Theo’s voice manages to make it through my daze, and I look up. He’s made of stone. His expression is hard, obviously angry, but doesn’t show any other emotion.
“Get up and help me.”
Right. Yes. Of course. I can’t lose myself in the guilt. Not yet. I have to be there for the rest of my family.
I clamber to my feet and wait for Theo’s order.
“I need you to get in contact with Levi. We have to know if he’s okay or if he’s the reason they targeted Matthew. Levi may have told the Fivers inside that Matthew visited that day.”
Fuck, he’s right.
I’m so goddamn stupid. We should have waited to attack another day.
We didn’t think anything of it, because Matthew visits Levi several times a week, but of course the Fivers would make that assumption.
A Saint goes to the prison the very day its warden disappears?
Even the dumbasses in the South Five could make that connection.
“They might have killed Levi,” I say.
“Or they didn’t because he gave up his brother.”
“He wouldn’t have.”
Theo gives me a look. The one we often give each other when one of us is being too idealistic. Usually, it's me giving it to him, but this time he wears it in full force.
Because of course Levi would have given up his brother. I don’t know him well, but from the stories Matthew has told, he’s not the bravest, most honorable man in the world. Between his own safety and a non-corporeal threat against his brother? He’s picking himself. Most men would.
“We have to be careful about this,” Theo says. “Bowie is baiting us.”
Several people shout that we need to attack back, get revenge, defend ourselves. And Theo agrees, but he’s the president, so when he says shut up and wait for orders, that’s what we all will do.
“This won’t go unpunished. The South Five’s days are numbered. But we’re not losing another Saint in the process.”