Page 26 of Property of Saint

“Get out!” one of their lead officers screams, his finger pointing at Ace. “Get the fuck out of here,” he repeats while holding the door open. With a quick apologetic glance my way, the teenager ducks under his arm and disappears into the night. The biker steps forward, his eyes blazing fire. “What’s the boy said?”

I was going to respond, “nothing”, but Heathen gets in first. “Freak, he basically told her he was the hacker.”

Freak points his finger at me. “You’re fuckin’ dead.” His next action shows it’s not an idle threat as his hand reaches behind him and reappears with a gun.

Time slows. I futilely try to scramble up the bed, but even if I weren’t handcuffed, there’s no way I can escape the bullet that’s coming my way. I inhale deeply, taking in what I expect to be my final breath, my last thought is that I hope he’s accurate, as I’ve had enough pain over the last twenty-four hours.

He aims…

Ace runs back through the door and pushes Freak out of the way. “No, Dad. I won’t let you do it.” His eyes blaze. “Why the hell did you get me to make it look like she was dead if you’re just going to kill her anyway.”

“Get out of here, kid.”

“No.” Ace stands his ground. Well, actually, he gains some, having moved closer and positioned himself between me and his father.

Not knowing their relationship, I can see things from Freak’s side. His teenage son, who doesn’t look like he’s completed puberty yet, has got inside government systems that by rights not even the best IT specialists in the world can access. The systems are constantly stress tested, but somehow this kid, Ace, has found a back door or overridden all the fail-safes. He’s a fucking genius, and I’d be the first to admit that.

If the Feds found out about him, I even doubt he’d do prison time. In fact, he’d probably be set for a job for life. Which is probably just as bad. Especially considering who his father is. Who, it’s also guaranteed, he’d definitely never see again.

Raising my free hand as much as I’m able to, limited by the sling it’s still supported by, I try to reason with the man who I now see wears the wordEnforceron his cut. “Freak, I won’t say anything. Even if I get out of here, I promise I’ll keep his secret.”

“A promise from a Fed is worth nothing,” Freak spits. His eyes narrow, full of disdain. “And if you reappear, someone’s going to want to find out who altered your records.”

He’s so goddamn right, I can’t contradict him. Perhaps being faced with imminent death for the second time in as many days makes me reevaluate what I want out of life fast. “Perhaps I don’t want to reappear.” My voice is only just above a whisper.

Suddenly, another man appears at the door. Saint rushes in, taking Freak by surprise, he disarms him by karate chopping his weapon out of his hand, before picking it up and taking possession of it. “What the fuck?”

He might have lost his gun, but an evil-looking knife immediately appears to replace it in a split second. Equally as fast as his VP, he turns the tables and has him up against the wallwith the blade at his throat. It’s an impasse. Saint’s got his gun pointed at him. The only outcome is mutual destruction.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

SAINT

Bullseye had kept me back after church as he wanted to speak to me, refreshingly about club business and not the woman and ensuing trouble I’ve brought to the club. We’d even drunk a couple of glasses of whiskey while talking about a couple of deals we had coming up and runs we had planned to go on.

We’d parted amicably. Me feeling more relaxed than I had in hours, I found my feet turning toward the bar before the thought slammed into me that I couldn’t just kick up my heels and do what I like. I had to do my duty and go up to my room, if nothing else to relieve the prospect. Thinking ties like that are the reason I really don’t want an old lady, I’d made my way up the stairs in time to catch the end of the conversation that I couldn’t really make head or tail of until I stepped inside to see fucking Ace there, and Freak holding a gun on Pippa. I didn’t need a translator to realise Ace had fucked up, and Pippa knew the identity of the hacker.

Of course, Freak would do anything to protect his son, and normally I’d be right there beside him, but in that split second,I couldn’t let him kill Pippa. That was my job, if it was anyone’s, not his.

I had him disarmed in seconds, but I can’t forget who I’m up against. He’s not our enforcer for nothing. If I fire a bullet at him, it’s likely his reflex action would be to cut my throat. Neither of us has the advantage.

Freak realises the situation only too well. Rage fills his eyes, and I know he’ll do whatever he has to, even if it ends up with both our bodies bleeding out in my room. His face contorts, the effort he’s making to control himself visible. While not lowering the knife or physically backing down, he makes a plea. “He’s myson, VP.” His words are filled with anguish.

Freak came to the club a damaged man seeking revenge. Whether he’d always been bloodthirsty, or whether the murder of his wife had turned him that way, I’d never gotten to the bottom of it. But we’d helped him where the law’s justice couldn’t, and dispatched with extreme prejudice, the man who’d driven into the car carrying his woman and baby girl. The courts had slapped his wrist and given him a fine, but our sentence was more final.

Having adored his wife, Freak focused his attention on the two things he had left. One, the club, who’d had his back when the law hadn’t, and the second, his son, his only physical reminder of the love that he’d lost.

What the hell did the club know about raising kids? We had no women except for club bunnies, and they weren’t exactly examples of motherhood for his kid. We all chipped in and did what we could, but Ace grew up differently from the other kids. His playground was the garage where his father and brothers worked, his role models one-percenter bikers. He was kicked out of school for his belligerence and language, but hell, he was shaped as a little King from the time he could walk. Home schooled by all of us, and especially Genie who seemed to beable to relate to him, until Ace outgrew his teacher and became a fucking genius. The only problem was that we didn’t really focus on lessons explaining the difference between right and wrong. Or that sometimes just because you can, doesn’t mean you should. Worse, I suppose, because it helped us, we encouraged his abilities, Genie relegated to a supporting role, focused on covering Ace’s tracks and keeping him safe.

And fuck me, but now the miracle kid has tears in his eyes, as he stands stock still, watching his dad, and me, one of his adoptive uncles, go head-to-head. I can read the situation without being told, he probably came looking for me, and when he saw the woman whose existence he’d erased from the records and substituted her with someone else, boasted about what he’d done, never realising he should have kept his mouth shut. In his still undeveloped mind, it’s probably simple. We wanted her electronic life erased so the “bad” people couldn’t get her.

Well, one thing’s for sure, he’s not going to see either me or his dad die tonight, but I won’t back down and let Freak kill Pippa. I’ve just got to come up with the right argument to save all the bloodshed.

“Freak,” I start, trying as hard as I can to hide how it irks me that I’m being held at knifepoint by the enforcer who’s lower in rank than me. Annoying him more won’t help at this juncture. “Bullseye said she was my responsibility.”

“She knows about Ace.” He’s not giving an inch.

Gentling my tone, I raise my chin. “I know, Freak, I know. But one thing you can trust is that I’m never going to let her go free.”

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