Page 80 of Twisted Steel

We move fast.The rest of the clubhouse is already armed and awake, men flowing toward the yard.Mama M catches sight of Harper wrapped in yesterday’s clothes, thrown on crooked, and my shirt over them.Her expression changes.

Not judgment but understanding swiftly followed by worry.

Raven stands beside her with coffee in one hand and a knife in the other.Because apparently that woman considers breakfast a combat sport.Her eyes move over Harper.Then me.Then my bare chest beneath my cut.

“Well,” Raven says.“At least the apocalypse waited until after foreplay.”

Harper’s face turns red so fast I almost enjoy it.

Savage appears behind Raven, expression carved from stone.“Not now.”

Raven takes a sip of coffee.“I said after.”

Savage’s jaw ticks before he moves away.Even with danger in the yard, my mouth nearly moves.

Harper points at Raven.“I’m deciding whether I like you.”

“You do,” Raven says.“It’s irritating for both of us.”

Outside, dawn stains the compound gray.Savage stands near the gate with Saint crouched beside a cardboard box sitting in the dirt just inside the fence.No one touches it.

Crimson stands a few feet away, face tight with fury.“Could be a bomb.”

“No ticking,” Saint says.

“Not all bombs tick, genius.”

Saint glances up.“Your insight continues to stun me.”

Raven steps onto the porch beside Harper.“If it were a bomb, Reaper would have put it somewhere men with inflated survival instincts would touch it faster.”

Crimson’s eyes cut to her.“You got bomb expertise now?”

“No.I have idiot expertise.It’s transferable.”

Savage’s mouth twitches once before his gaze cuts through the yard.

I stop near the steps, keeping Harper behind my shoulder.She doesn’t argue this time.That tells me she feels it too.Something bad.

Savage looks at her.“It’s addressed to you.”

My blood goes colder.On the side of the box, written in black marker isSteel’s Medic.

I start toward the box, but her hand catches my wrist.Every man in the yard sees it.Every man in the yard sees me stop.

“Don’t,” she says.Her voice is steady, but her hand is not.

I look down at her fingers around my wrist.Then at her face.“I need to see.”

“No, you want to see.There’s a difference.”

“She’s right,” Raven says.

I look at her.Raven doesn’t flinch.She lifts a brow like she has already survived worse men than me before coffee.

“If Reaper wanted you dead with it, it wouldn’t be sitting unopened,” Saint says.

Crimson snorts.“Unless he figured Steel’s too stupid not to touch it.”