“I think it’s fair to say her cousin Taylor has far more intelligence. Most likely, she used Tempest to get her an introduction, and she ran with it from there,” Theo surmises.
“Eccleston has to know more,” Galen says. “He’s Knight’s number two. How was this going down without him being aware?”
“He lied to us,” Saint says.
“Not necessarily,” I say, and I’m not defending Bry per se. “The only loyalty Darrow has is to himself, and he keeps Bry on a pretty tight leash. Bry is the brute strength in the crew while Dar likes to handle the decision making on his own. They’re not solid like you guys. The relationships are surface level, and everyone has their set roles, knowing not to overstep the mark. It’s possible Tempest was using The Bulls connection to entice Dar into her bed, and if Taylor wanted it kept on the down low, then, it’s not hard to believe Dar kept Bry out of the loop.”
“What do The Bulls want with The Arrows and vice versa?” Saint says.
“I’d have thought that’s obvious.” I cut up my chicken. “They have a mutual enemy. Perhaps, they decided it was time to form an alliance and work to take The Sainthood down once and for all.”
“Why did—”
The window on our right shatters explosively, raining glass on top of us. A bullet whizzes by my head, and Caz roars, grabbing me onto the floor with him. Shards of broken glass dig into my knees through my jeans and cut the skin on my hands, but I barely feel any pain. Adrenaline courses through my veins as I watch Theo and Caz remove their guns. A chorus of screams rings out in the diner as more bullets zing through the air, over our heads, embedding in the walls and the row of glass jars sitting on shelves behind the counter. The sound of breaking glass crashing to the floor mingles with the terrified cries of frightened customers and staff. “Stay down,” I shout, lest any idiot decides to be a hero.
Theo and Caz exchange a look across the underside of our table, nodding in silent agreement, before they hop up, firing back through the open window. They duck back down, as more bullets fly in our direction, and a pattern forms as both sides shoot at one another.
Sirens blare in the distance, and the guys jump up again. “They’re getting away!” Caz shouts, grabbing my hand and hauling me to my feet. Theo throws a few hundred-dollar bills down on the table and snatches the keys and his cell, pressing it to his ear as he races toward the door.
“We were never here,” Caz says to the waitress, drilling her with a deadly look I’ve never seen on his face before.
“They got away,” Theo says, fuming, when we emerge outside. “Fuck!”
“Was it The Bulls?” I ask, because it’s the obvious conclusion.
“They wore plain black hoodies with scarves pulled halfway up their faces, so it’s hard to tell,” Caz says. “But my money’s on them.”
“Theo!” Saint’s gnarly tone emits from the cell in Theo’s hand. Theo tosses the keys to Caz, and we get in the car.
Caz is concentrating on getting us out of there, and Theo is busy trying to calm Saint down on the phone, so neither of them is paying attention to the black SUV parked across the road with the tinted windows or the tall, dark-haired man who gets out, holding a long-lens camera in one hand, deliberately eye-checking me as we drive past.
I don’t believe I’ve ever seen him before, but all the tiny hairs on my arms stand to attention, and blood rushes to my head as an ominous sense of foreboding washes over me. I turn around, locking eyes with him, as he watches us hightail it away from the scene of the crime, with a growing sense of trepidation.
CHAPTER 19
Harlow
WE DON’T RETURN to school, heading for the guys’ warehouse in Prestwick Forest to wait for Galen and Saint to arrive. They have picked up the freshman Parker paid to keep watch in the hallway while they assaulted Sariah, and they are dropping her off at home before swinging by here.
“The guy was shady as fuck. He had a camera, and I got the sense he wanted me to see him. To know he was watching us and that he caught what went down,” I finish explaining to Theo and Caz.
“What the actual fuck is going on?” Caz asks, removing a pack of cigarettes. I whip them out of his hand, crushing them with my fingers. He scowls. “That wasn’t nice, princess. I’m fucking stressed, and I need to let off steam.”
“You don’t get stressed,” I say, as Theo powers up his tablet, taking a seat at the long table.
“I do when someone takes potshots at my girl.”
I walk to him, wrapping my arms around his neck, just as Saint and Galen storm into the place. Saint exudes tension in spades, and Galen is feeding off his concern. Theo is freaking out over the guy I spotted, and Caz, my laid-back gruff yet gentle giant is stressed.
I need to lighten the atmosphere.
“Want me to vacuum your pork sword to relieve some stress?” I tease, fighting a grin.
Caz’s eyes light up like it’s Christmas morning. “Only if you let me flood the basement, babe,” he adds, and I lose the battle, cracking up laughing. Caz joins in while the others stare at us in disbelief.
“How can you fucking joke at a time like this?” Saint seethes.
I sigh, my laughter dying off, removing my arms from Caz and walking to Saint. “Because everyone is so damn tense.” I run my fingers along his taut jawline to prove my point.
“Some assholes just tried to take you out!” Saint yells. “And I want to fucking gut the bastards from head to toe.”
I slam my lips on his, forcing my tongue into his mouth and grabbing his tight body against mine, until I feel him relaxing against me. With every sweep of my lips, his tension dials down a notch, and I feel the atmosphere lightening. I break our kiss, resting my hands on his shoulders. “Better now, Saintly?”
“Dat is true talent,” Caz says, chuckling.
“Please tell me you got something on camera,” Galen says, dropping into the seat across from Theo.
“I’m hacking into the street cam across from the diner now,” Theo confirms, and I wander off to make some drinks and snacks while he works.
“Hey.” Saint comes up behind me, pressing the length of his body against mine. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I truthfully admit as I dump a large bag of chips into a bowl.
“You’re bleeding.” He lifts one of my hands to inspect it.
I swivel around so I’m looking at him. “It’s nothing. Surface scratches.”
“Let me see.” Galen approaches with a first aid kit in hand.
Saint lifts me up by the hips, placing me on the counter. His eyes lower to my ripped, torn jeans and the dried blood sticking to my skin. “You’re fucking injured. Take them off,” he growls.
I know not to pick a battle with him when he’s like this, so I slide off the counter and shimmy out of my jeans. I pull myself back up on the counter, only wearing my sweater and lace panties. Both guys pretend not to notice my state of undress, but a charge of electricity ignites the surrounding space.
The damage to my legs is worse than it felt, although the various cuts all appear shallow, and I doubt I need any stitches.
Saint mutters under his breath as he makes sandwiches, and I avoid eye contact with Galen as he cleans the wounds on my hands first, applying a few Band-Aids. I grip the edge of the counter when he raises one of my legs, placing my foot flat against his chest as he examines the wounds on my leg. His fingers are cool against my skin as he gently probes the damaged area around my knee and on my shin.