Saint does as I ask, and helps me slide her onto the rear seat and strap her in. I go to take the keys from him, but he moves his hand back a fraction. “I’m taking her.”
“What the fuck, Saint. Give me the fucking keys.”
“Do you trust me with your life?” he asks. His eyes are dark.
“Of course, but we’re wasting time.”
He grabs my wrist. “Do you trust me with hers?”
“For fuck’s sake. Don’t make me hit you. Give me the goddamn keys.” I go to snatch them from his hand, instead, he hugs me.
“I’m your only path out of this, Spark. The only path where Iris can be truthful, tell her story, have her day in court if the pursuit of this organization goes anywhere without incriminating you.”
“What do you mean?”
Saint sighs, marks the sign of the cross over Iris, then closes the door.
“I’m not who you think I am. I’m an undercover ATF agent.”
I go for my gun but remember it’s out of bullets after what happened inside. “You traitorous bastard.” I look over to the warehouse, but Saint puts his hand on his gun.
“Never fired a bullet, tonight. Don’t make me. The woman we saved that very first night, the one that started all this. She gave me some intel. I passed it on to those who need to know.”
He glances over to where a couple of the guys have come out for a smoke, and I swear I see something akin to longing in his eyes. “I can safely go on the record and put myself here, saying I followed a tip on the case of the other missing women. I can say I saw a shoot-out between two groups. Russians and Brotherhood. That I saw the woman, recognized her as Iris, and saved her. You can’t do that without incriminating yourself.”
I’m looking at the man, but it’s like he’s speaking a strange language. “You were my friend.”
“Still am. Blowing up my undercover op and likely my career for this. Because you’re a fucking good man, Spark.”
I’ve never been so torn on the right thing to do. “King will have you killed for this.”
“Probably. But if you guys clean this up, Iris will be stuck, unable to talk about her memories of it. And if you guys clean this up, the lead on who is doing this goes cold. The first woman we saved—she’s my fucking Iris, Spark. So much has happened, but I know what you’re going through right now. I know what these bastards do. I know what it feels like to . . . to love someone who has been through what Iris has. I can’t let this fucking lead go cold while you try to hide the fact you were ever here.”
I can’t put this puzzle together. It’s like a jigsaw but all the pieces are black. He’s right, though. We’ll never be able to unravel all of the pieces of this as a club. But maybe the FBI or whoever has the kind of reach we don’t, can. “I don’t even know you.”
“Still the same guy. But I gotta go. Jump on your bike, but then go hang out at a bar near the hospital and wait until I call. Give yourself an alibi.”
My heart is in my mouth. “I can’t watch you drive off with her. She’s my fucking world.”
“It’s half an hour now, or a lifetime if you end up incriminating yourself and going to prison. Text King in five minutes that you see police cars headed his way. Get the club out of there. They aren’t the bad guys. I’ll call King myself once I’m clear of the hospital.”
“I still don’t understand why.”
Saint huffs. “What would you give to find the men who just hurt Iris?”
Ice water floods my veins. “Everything. I’d kill those fuckers in a heartbeat.”
He grips my bicep, and suddenly thoughts of weapons and killing him ease away. “Then let me go do what I do. Let me do this. I’ll even feed you what I know. If you get to them before me, you tell me. I want a piece of them as much as you do.”
“You’re an ATF agent. You can’t just kill ’em.”
“Was. I was an ATF agent. After tonight, who the fuck knows what I’ll be. Trust me, Spark. I gotta go. And while you may not feel the same way about me after tonight, the last two years have been the best of my fucking life. Redefined who I am as a man. I’m better for your friendship, man.”
I should just kill him with my bare hands, but what he’s saying makes sense.
“I’ll drop Iris off at the hospital, and report to my handler that I’m out,” he continues. “Trust me, it’s the only way Iris and Br—well, it’s the only way they get justice. And I’d rather get the real scum. The traffickers who prey on women.”
His rationale is solid. I look to the van. “Take care of her.”
“With my life.”
“Don’t make me kill you.”
“That will be your choice. But I won’t give you reason beyond those I already stated. This gets you all out of there. Besides, love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this; to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. John 15:12-13. It was good knowing you, Spark.”
Saint holds his gun steady until he is in the driver’s seat. My heart is in my mouth as the engine starts. “Fuck.” I can’t decide if letting him go is the right thing. But my gut tells me to trust him, even as my brain processes the massive fucking lie.
And I hop on my bike and follow.
Saint is as good as his word, and I do as he said. I call King and tell him I see police vehicles headed his way. I explain Saint’s driving the van, I’m with my bike. I’ll tell him the real story later, because . . . Well, fuck, I realize I want Saint to have a head start.
I go to a bar and numbly down a shot of tequila. I take Saint’s advice and try to hold my shit together but speak loudly so the bartender will notice me, in case my alibi ever gets questioned.
Time becomes a blur once I’m at the hospital. Iris regains consciousness for moments, and then everything slips away. Nurses come and go.
She groans, and I feel fucking impotent and helpless. She’s medicated. Heavy on the sedation and pain relief. I wish I had a bottle of tequila to numb the ache in my heart.
My brothers arrive and refuse to leave the hospital, despite being instructed to do so.
I step out into the corridor to tell King what is happening, but he has his phone to his ear. Suddenly he yells, “What the fuck, Saint? What did you do?”
I’m not a religious man, but Saint is. So I say a quick prayer for him, just in case Saint’s right and there is a Big Guy who can help him.
Back in Iris’s room, I sit next to the bed and hold her hand, repeating how much I love her until my head gets heavy, and I fall asleep.
Fingertips brushing my hair wake me with a jolt. Iris is moving. Her eyes are closed, but her hand reaches for me.
“Hey,” I say, my voice deep and hoarse. “Iris?”
Her eyes flicker open. “Hey.”
I pick up her hand and kiss it. “You feeling okay, little chick?”
“What time is it?” She glances to the window and squints. It’s still dark.
I glance at my watch. “A little after four in the morning. You need anything?”
“Maybe some water in a minute.”
I reach for the cup and straw and hold it for her so she can take a sip. “Steady, sweetheart.” After I place it back on the nightstand, I lean forward and brush her forehead with my lips.