Page 55 of Property of Saint

“How?”

“In the garage, there’s a row of hooks with keys hanging off them. They’re the ones to the trucks the club owns, and to the members’ cars that they keep on compound, the keys are storedthere in case people need to move them around. Bikers don’t like cages so they don’t often use them.”

I realise there’s something different about his speech. There are no swear words being thrown in. My heart starts racing, wondering whether I can believe him.

“The keys at the far-right end of the row are to the black SUV that’s parked right outside the front of the garage.”

Still trying to take it all in, I ask, “Are you going to come with me?”

He shakes his head. “Wish I could. Would give anything to get out of this hellhole, but my work here isn’t finished.”

There’s a flaw in his plan. “If I leave, and you’re the one who’s been told to prevent that, you’re going to be in a heap of trouble for letting me go.”

Offering a rueful smile, he explains, “So this is where you’re going to hit me, sweetheart. You can swing that crutch and get me right here.” He points to his temple, then grimaces. “Got to be hard enough to convince them.”

Staring at him, I don’t immediately answer him. I let the words and his offer settle into my mind, analysing them. It could be a trap, but Rattler is being very convincing. And he’s offering the only way out of here. I could be in that car within moments, leaving probable certain death behind.And Saint.

He doesn’t hurry me, just lets me think through the possibilities and complications. After a few moments have passed, I reach for my crutch and stand. I see Rattler brace himself, but I turn my back on him, pouring myself another coffee instead.

His voice sounds a little panicked as he says, “You’ve got to hurry and get as far away as possible…”

I swing around to face him. “Actually, Rattler, under the circumstances, I think it’s best you get in that car and start driving. My place is with Saint, and I’m staying here.”

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me!”

A lapse, a swear word.I note it. “I can’t keep silent about your role here. You saw how I told them about Skunk. Why do you think I’d keep quiet about you?”

“Because you’re a Fed, and you don’t belong here.”

Offering a sad shake of my head, I correct, “I don’t belong anywhere, so I might as well stay here.”

“You fuckin’ bitch!”

Balancing myself against the counter, I wield my crutch for real as Rattler comes toward me.

“Stop right there, Rat!” barks the authoritative voice of their president.

“Told you it wouldn’t work.” Saint walks in, puts his arms around me, and hugs me close to him.

“Godfuckin’damnit!” Rattler slams his fist against the wall, then starts to walk out of the door the other two men have just entered.

“If it helps,” I call after him, “you had me fooled.”

He pauses, swings back around and says, “No I didn’t. You saw right through me.”

I feel myself slump. I’ve won nothing here. I’d passed a test I was meant to fail, but still they don’t trust me. Even if Rattler had been exactly what he’d said, a future outside this club, one where I had no identity, and especially no Saint, didn’t attract me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

SAINT

Maybe Pippa had seen through Rat’s story, or maybe she hadn’t. But as she must have noticed the quiet of the clubhouse and heard the roar of bikes leaving, if she’d wanted to, she could have tried to incapacitate Rat and seek out the keys to a car and escape. Even if she’d seen through his story, she could have used our absence to take advantage. But instead of making a break for it, she’d poured herself another cup of coffee instead.

Prez and I had been listening, my heart beating almost out of my chest when she’d told him her place was with me. Of course, I’d known Rattler was going to try to trick her, and I’d been ninety-nine percent certain it wasn’t going to work. My faith in her had been rewarded.

And now I think she deserves something in return. “You finished with that coffee?”

She upends the cup before answering, “I am now.”

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