Page 117 of Love Thy Brother
I hustled him back to the chapel and towed him inside, interrupting Cam growling about something and nothing.
Probably important.
Never mind.
I pointed at Locke. “Mr Firefighter. Hero of the day. What can we do to protect a building from being torched?”
Irritation flickered in Locke’s placid gaze. “Who are you calling a hero?”
“You, bro,” Nash said quietly. “You ripped your hands to bits saving that old lady.”
“Mrs Valentino,” I supplied, belatedly noticing the scuffs and scrapes on Locke’s hands. Hands that were scarred and fucked up already.
I winced and gestured for him to show me.
He shoved them in his pockets. “Are you asking me if you can stop River’s garage going up if those city boys light their fire?”
“Something like that.”
Locke shook his head. “Only chance you have is to spray the place in fire retardants—and they’d see you doing that—or stopping them gaining access in the first place. If you can’t do either of those things, you should think about lifting anything from there that you care about.”
“There’s no time for that.” River dipped his chin in thanks. “Not tonight, anyway. We need eyes in Truro more than I need to save a collection of spanners.”
“It’s more than that, Riv,” I protested.
But River was done.
He shut me out and Cam broke it up before I could argue. “All right. We’ll get through tonight, then we’ll talk on this again. Thanks, Locke. You and Folk get your hogs ready and meet Saint and Nash out front. You’re riding out with us when we’re done here.”
Locke frowned. “What about Orla?”
“She’s spending the night with Juana, Lili, and Ivy.”
“Here?”
Cam nodded. “Mateo’s on his way back. He’ll guard them with Decoy and Embry... if the good father can stay awake.”
It was Embry’s turn to scowl. “I can ride, Cam. Don’t bench me when we’re already shorthanded without Mateo.”
“Don’t fight me when you need your energy for something less futile.” Cam dismissed Embry, turning back to Locke. “You can go.”
Locke left.
Cam waited for the door to close behind him, then heaved a sigh and refocused on River. “Rubi’s right. Your business is more than a couple of toolboxes. If you want to stay and watch over it, we’ll make it happen.”
River’s shiny hair had escaped the messy knot at the nape of his neck, concealing the side of his face most visible to Cam. He shoved it back with rough hands. “No, thanks.”
“Sure about that?” Nash pulverised a cigarette in an old crystal ash tray. “Your whole life is in that garage.”
“Yours too if you’re that bothered about tools, bro.”
A wry smile crossed Nash’s face. He spread his hands in surrender, ever the peacemaker to the belligerence that ran riot in the rest of us. It was my cue to take the reins with sense and reason, but with a fight on the horizon, River brawling at my side, I didn’t have much of that left.
Find it. Or you’ve got no business being on the road.
I knew that. Shit, Iknewit. But as I pictured the goons in that Truro trap house rushing us, rushinghim, fists flying, bats, knives, whatever, I became the man I’d always criticised the whole fucking world for being.
Church broke up. My brothers dispersed, Cam, Saint, and Alexei departing together, no sign of the turmoil tearing me up inside.
