Page 78 of Tempting Fate

“Fuck.” I pat Cub’s shoulder. “Slash said it hit the wall.”

“No, that was where it ended up after it bounced off my back.”

“He won’t get away with it?—”

“I’m not worried about that,” Cub interjects. “Getting’ Fret back is my only objective, and that means I want Brutus kept in the dark until I’ve been able to confirm things.”

“Okay. I can give you that.”

“Appreciate it.”

Toker bounces the pads of his fingers against his lips. “Why don’t I cause a commotion, and you two can take off? It’ll give you a head start, plus, that way, you’ll be with Cherub and Slash when this is either confirmed or debunked.”

“What do you have in mind?”

The grin he gives me is filled with mischief. “A little dance monkey.”

“I like it.”

The gravel crunches under my boots as I head for my Harley. I jam my helmet on my head, forgoing my gloves as I hit the ignition and throw my leg over the machine. After exchanging a look with Toker, I give Cub a nod. He tucks his tablet in his side pannier and pulls his visor into place. I match his movement with my own. The madman with the gun fetish, one of my best friends, my ride or die, reaches into his panniers. He pulls a semi-automatic out, jams his finger on the trigger and fires round after round into the air. Taking that as my cue, I roll on the throttle and get the hell out of the yard.

Riding like a bat out of hell, Cub follows on his Harley.

Once we’re clear, I monitor my side mirror.

In it, Toker grabs a new magazine, pops out the spent cartridge and pushes the new one in place. This time, he aims the muzzle at the ground, and unloads a spray of bullets at the feet of the Maddison’s and our president.

And, exactly like he said they would, they dance.

It’s more an Irish jig than any of the conventional gyrations I’ve ever seen.

Arms held stiffly at their side, elbows bent as they try to keep their balance while they dodge the bullets and ricochets, their resemblance to monkeys is obvious.

“Dance monkey,” I crow, punching the air.

Pulling level with me, Cub whoops.

We ride like a pair of maniacs, half hopped up on adrenaline, the rest of our urgency fuelled by pure fear.

If something happens to Fret, the Mayberry siblings will crumble. The five of them are a tight unit. Lily might be the nucleus. The mother figure. However, Fret plays an integral part. He’s the ferocious protector. The calm in the storm. His temper is even until his brothers or sister are put at risk, and then he becomes a hurricane.

Whipped into a frenzy.

Wild and indiscriminate.

He’ll annihilate everything in his path.

It’s a characteristic we share.

One of the reasons why I trust him more than Sander.

As much as I worry about Fret, as always, my woman is at the centre of my thoughts.

How will she react to this latest problem?

Coming hot on the heels of Alex’s half-truths, the turbulence I can see building inside her is likely to peak. Her infinite need to martyr. Her boundless desire to help. Her enduring promise to her dead mother to save her brothers from pain. The hallmarks of the perfect storm swirl around Lily. A collapse of epic proportions.

If I can keep her ire focused on me, I’ll be happy.

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