“Cat’s overridden my orders; he says he doesn’t need an escort for simple business.” Crown grits his teeth so tight that I can see a muscle in his jaw tick. “Fuck.”
“You told him about the hit?” I ask, because I just assumed that Crown would call my father to tell him …
“How?” he asks, splaying his left hand open in suggestion. “Without revealing where that information came from, my hands are tied.”
“So what do we do now?” I ask, panic tightening my chest. If Cat wants to get himself killed, well, shit, I can’t stop him. But I sure as fuck am not leaving Beast out there to be mowed down alongside my idiot father.
Sin and Grainger appear on either side of us, sans helmets.
“What the fuck is happening?” Cade asks, putting his hands on his hips. The moonlight catches on the row of silver hoops in Sin’s ears, making them glow.
“Cat doesn’t want an escort,” Crown reiterates dryly, swiping his hand over his face.
I think about that for a moment as Cade curses and Sin gives a sharp frown.
“Did he expressly say that we couldn’t head over there?” I ask quietly, knowing that if he did, we won’t be going. Like I said before, I get the idea that disobeying Cat is something that these men will do only if it pertains to me and my safety. That’s it. This isn’t a habit. Their loyalty to that man, and their commitment to the order of the club is ingrained in them, like they’re in the military or something. An order comes from your commanding officer and you fucking damn well better follow it.
“He hasn’t contacted me at all,” Crown says, and there’s a heavy sadness in his words that I want to kick myself for not noticing before. We’re all suffering losses here. I didn’t understand it at first, the full magnitude of what these men have lost. Now that Cat knows they covered up my mistake, he may never trust them again.
Even if Grey gets what he wants, even if he takes over the mafia, even if he agrees to work only with me … it won’t matter.
Cat has to go.
He cannot remain as president of Death by Daybreak or none of that will happen.
Maybe I should call Beast, beg him to get the fuck out of there, and let Cat die? That would make things so much easier, wouldn’t it? But I learned my lesson with Gaz. Once someone is gone, they’re gone forever. The possibility of everything that might’ve been is erased from existence, leaving a stain behind in its wake.
Fuuuuuuck.
“Then if he hasn’t contacted you, he never said we couldn’t go.”
“It’s implied, Gidge,” Crown retorts, his voice frosty and splintered like old bone.
“Really?” I ask, standing up and then climbing off his bike so that I can move around to the front and stare at him. He looks right back at me, expression resolute. “Is that how the club works now? Implications? If it isn’t a direct order, then it doesn’t matter.” I look him right in the face, and I dare him to defy me.
“There are politics at work here, Gidge,” Sin adds, crossing his arms. I love the way his muscles bulge with the movement. All three of them, actually, are distracting as fuck in their leather cuts with their bare arms and their muscles and their ink, their worn denim that cups their asses and strong thighs like it was made for them. Even better because I know these aren’t expensive, tailored jeans. This is real shit, real denim, and it only looks that good because it’s been broken in and worn so often that the fabric’s conformed to their shapes.
I cross my own arms in defiance.
“Yes, there are. And we can’t do this with Cat being suspicious of our every move. We have to give him something. If protecting his life and delivering the heads of these men is what we need to do, let’s make it happen.”
Crown stands up before either of the other men can add their input to the conversation. And holy shit, he is terrifying.
“I am not taking you down there to die. It was one thing when we had backup, but it’s a whole other animal without it. These men are professionals, Gidget, and this isn’t a game.” He gestures with his head in the direction of Sin’s bike. “Sin, take her home. Grainger and I will head down to the police station and see what we can’t do to change Cat’s mind—if it’s not too late, that is.” Crown throws me a dirty look. “Or if this whole thing isn’t a fucking trap.”
I put my hands on the bars of his bike and lean in, narrowing my eyes at him.
“No.”
“No?” Crown queries back, and then he laughs.
