Page 57 of The Oath We Take

The sound of her laughter does little to ease the discomfort in my jeans, but I need to get up and off her before the two prospects I’m expecting find more than they are bargaining for.

“I don’t like leaving you,” I say, running my knuckle down Ember’s cheek.

“I’ll be fine. Look at it this way: you’re taking care of business, so we’ll all be safe again. And despite my reservations for your safety, I’m proud that my man cares for me so much, he’ll do that for us.”

Pride swells in my chest that she sees it. “My man. I like the sound of that from those lush lips of yours. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe.” I push off her and stand. “I’ll be coming home to you, eventually, sweetheart. Even if it’s not tonight. Just be where I left you when I get here.”

“There’s a spare key on the hook by the door. Take it so you can get in if it’s late.”

“After Dad made that big deal about me not being at the ranch this morning, Butcher arranged for two teams, an old timer and a prospect on each, to keep watch over you tonight. I tried to talk him out of it, but there was only so much I could say without him getting suspicious. Won’t be as simple as just walking in if they are doing their job properly. Questions will be asked as to why I’m here.”

I hate the disappointment in her eyes. “When we can, then?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. When we can. I’ll message you and let you know I got back okay, though, yeah?”

I kiss her one last time, and after a brief discussion with the prospects to let them know where to keep an eye on Ember, I set off and meet up with my brothers.

It’s another hour before I’ve ridden to the clubhouse and we’ve headed into Denver in the van. And we aren’t fucking around. With the increased intelligence Wraith has been gathering for us, we know there are a number of warehouses they use to transfer goods on the edge of Denver’s western limits, and a safe house that members of the Bratva have been seen entering and leaving.

We’d made plans to hit the warehouse, but Dice had ridden out ahead several hours ago to keep watch, and he’d said it looked as though the warehouse was being cleared out. Wraith had directed him to the safe house, and he’d seen a vehicle that matched the one the two thugs who had come for Ember had used.

And that had been enough for me to vote in favor of the last-minute switch in attack location.

“Why’s he grinning like that?” Butcher asks as Catfish navigates his way through the dark streets on the edge of the city.

I look over to Caleb, who is smiling so hard he might break his own jaw. As one of the prospects closest to becoming a brother, we asked him to join us.

“I’m thinking he’s happy for the invite,” I say. I respect the kid. He’s balls to the wall fearless, and willing to do whatever needs doing. Some guys want to join the club with the aspiration of being president one day. Some join it for the brotherhood and are happy just to be a good fucking soldier.

Caleb is the latter.

Catfish glances into the rearview mirror. “Aww. He’s like the cute little brother who gets to go out with his older siblings for the first time.”

Caleb tries to quell his grin but fails miserably. “Fine. I’m stoked I get to ride with you guys tonight. It’s a big deal.”

Butcher squeezes his shoulder. “It is. Just don’t fuck it up.”

“No, sir,” Caleb says.

Wraith shakes his head. “For fuck’s sake, don’t be calling him Sir. He’ll be expecting us all to do it.”

Butcher shrugs. “Does have a nice ring to it.”

“Will be good to not be the new guy anymore,” Taco says.

Grudge throws his balled-up gum wrapper at him, hitting him squarely on the forehead. “You’ll always be the new guy.”

Taco flips the bird at Grudge, and it’s good to see him settling into the camaraderie of the brotherhood. For the first few weeks after he got his cut, he didn’t do anything without instructions because he didn’t want to put a foot wrong. Like he couldn’t believe he’d made it and was scared of getting his patch taken back off him.

“We’re getting close,” Wraith says eventually.

I look out of the front windscreen. The sky has turned the darkest midnight blue, with only the tiniest pinpricks for stars. We pull over on the deserted road, everyone on high alert.

Grudge looks out of the rear window. “Couple of lights on inside, no obvious security patrols, but there are cameras.”

“Catfish can take them out,” Butcher instructs.

Our best sniper climbs out of the van, and while I can’t see him from my position in the back of the van, I see the lights near the building go out a second after I hear the pop of Catfish’s rifle.

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