51. Deacon
Chapter 51
Deacon
My phone buzzes.
Something’s unsettled in my gut, like a too-quiet moment in the woods.
Picking it up, I see Ezra’s name on the screen. There’s nothing abnormal about him calling. Especially since we had just talked about taking some time off from our brothers’ agendas to go gallivanting for a weekend.
“Hey, Ez.”
“Get on the next plane to Moab or Salt Lake or fuck anywhere in Utah. Hell, Denver. Whatever. Now,” he orders, his voice pitching and forceful.
“What’s going on?”
A bang rattles my door.
It opens before I can even get there.
Cade meets my eyes. “Ansel’s been arrested. I put us on a flight to Provo. It leaves in two hours. Take Henri. Move it.”
A pit forms in my stomach.
I nod and put my phone on the desk, then run to my closet and pick up the go bag I keep packed .
By the time I get back to the desk and pick up my phone, Ezra’s disconnected the call.
I jump down the flights of stairs, trying to get to Henri’s office as fast as possible. She’s packing her big purse with her laptop, tablet, and a binder of some nature.
“Ready?” I drum my fingers on my thigh.
Giving me a curt nod, she follows me.
After slipping on my tennis shoes, I run to the locker and start pulling out gear and a duffle.
There’s no way we’ll make it through TSA before the plane takes off unless we take something fast. I don’t know what Cade’s plans are, but I’m guessing it involves lights and sirens.
“Deacon, we can’t take that.” Henri argues with me.
“We don’t have time for anything else. I get that you’ve only met Ansel once, but if he dies, none of us are going to be okay.” I keep putting on my chaps.
Henri doesn’t argue again and takes the gear.
I put our things into the duffle and secure it to the back of the bike. Before kicking it to life, I offer my hand to Henri.
She takes my hand and climbs on, wrapping her arms around me.
If Ansel’s life wasn’t on the line, I might have taken a moment to relish in my proximity to her.
The gate is open before we get there, and I buzz off the property as fast as I can.
What could Ansel have been arrested for?
I push the bike to 150 miles per hour, only slowing down when we get to the winding parts of the road.
When we’re through the last of the curves, I remember Henri is behind me. So I only accelerate to ninety when we get on the freeway. Fast enough that cops won’t bother chasing me but slow enough that we’ve got a chance of surviving if we crash.