Page 5 of Serpentine

Thanks.

Are you going to tell Miles, or should I?

I’ll handle it, Blaze.

It was nice knowing you.

Snarling, I slide my phone back into my pocket and pull another toothpick out.

A car slows beside me, and I sneak a slight look towards it over my shoulder. A light rain is falling, and it’s sliding down the leather of my jacket in tiny drops.

“Need a ride?” the blonde woman behind the wheel asks.

“I think I’ll be alright. You best get on home before the rain gets heavier.”

I turn back and continue walking, but she doesn’t speed off.

“You’re one of them, aren’t you? You’re a Cobra!”

I close my eyes in annoyance. She’d have known that if she had glanced at the back of my jacket. Or maybe she had, and she’s just trying to fake ignorance.

“Yes, ma’am, I am.” She seems to be my age—twenty-seven—but Dad beat in respect for us, and it stuck.

“You helped my cousin a few months back. Come on, get in. I’ll take you where you need to go. We owe you more than you took from us, that’s for sure.”

I look at the outstretched road ahead, the rain coming down steadily from above. I have at least fifteen miles of walking to return to my bike, and then I have to drive back in the pelting rain.

“Fine, if you’re sure it’s not a problem.”

I hold the handle, letting her look at the one Cobra member no one’s seen up close. The one they call The Ghost. I rarely leave my dungeon of tech. Seldom do I even ride with the quiver.

She swallows but smiles anyway.

What exactly did we do for her cousin?

“Get on in. I’ll turn the seat warmer on for you.”

I try to be polite and not roll my eyes at the mention of such a frivolous luxury.

My idea of luxury is riding my bike without rain slapping my helmet. But on nights like tonight, when a war is brewing in me, the rain helps wash it away.

I slowly put the window back up as she speeds off, two hands on the wheel.

She’s uncomfortable.

“What was it we did for your cousin?” I ask.

She shifts in her seat, and I regret asking instantly. This is why I don’t leave the property. I argued that fact with Miles when he asked me to watch Carter at his new house in town.

Before, we didn’t have access to Carter since Montague Enterprises was tightly locked down. Most higher-up executives live in Portland or surrounding cities, where other clubs monitor the area. We don’t need a turf war on our hands. But Carter bought a house in Twin Pines, which gave us a shot at getting eyes on him.

Since Miles and the crew were working on another case at the factory in town, he needed me, so I obliged.

I bet he doesn’t make that mistake again.

“She was raped,” the woman finally says, and I stop whirling inside my head like I’m on a Ferris wheel and turn towards her. “You all helped when the cops wouldn’t.”

I nod absently. “Last fall?”

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