MasukMarcus
By the time we reached the grocery store, Jarek had been gone long enough that every excuse we had made upstairs was starting to feel thin.
Sable killed her engine beside me and immediately scanned the parking lot, her eyes moving over every row of cars before settling on the front entrance.
“He could still be here.”
“Yeah.”
She looked at me. “You don’t believe that.”
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JarekThe freight yard looked smaller without people shooting at us.That was my first thought when we rolled through the open gate the next morning and killed our engines near the row of rusted trailers.Smaller.Quieter.Ordinary enough to piss me off.The last time I stood here, the air had been full of gunfire, exhaust, shouting, and men trying to kill each other between freight containers. Vandal had been alive. Mateo Serrano had still been a stranger none of u
SableFour hours on a motorcycle gave a person a lot of time to reconsider whether closure was worth having an ass.By the second fuel stop, Marcus was stretching his back beside the pumps and glaring at both of us like the state of New Mexico had personally designed its highways to punish him.“You okay?” I asked.He pointed at me. “Do not start.”“I was being caring.”“You were smiling.”“
SableThe problem with surviving something terrible was that everybody wanted rules afterward.Doctors had rules. Cops had rules. Clubs had rules. Husbands who had been kidnapped off ordinary roads apparently developed enough rules to qualify as a small government.So when I told Jarek and Marcus that we needed to sit down and decide what came next, Jarek looked suspicious immediately.“No.”I stared at him across the kitchen table. “I haven’t said anything yet.”“You used the phrase decide what comes next. That sounds like a meeting.”Marcus sat beside him with a beer and the expression of a man enjoying danger from a safe distance. “It does sound like a meeting.”“You both suck.”“Still married to us,” Marcus said.“Unfortunately.”Jarek’s mouth twitched. That was already better than trying to have this conversation two weeks ago.We were upstairs in the private kitchen with the clubhouse moving normally beneath us. Someone laughed downstairs. A bike started in the garage, idled for
MarcusJarek had been home from his ride for less than ten minutes when Sable decided I was apparently next on some invisible recovery schedule.She had checked him over with enough subtlety to fool absolutely no one, asking whether his leg hurt, whether his hands were still shaking, whether he wanted food, water, a shower, or to sit down. Jarek answered every question with increasing irritation until she finally grabbed his face, kissed him hard, and turned to me.“Upstairs.”I raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”“You heard me.” She hooked a finger through the front of my cut and pulled me closer. “You’ve been watching him like you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you blink since Arroyo. Go be his husband for a while.”Jarek leaned against the bar behind her. “Pretty sure he’s been my husband this whole time.”“Then act like it.”I looked between them. “And where are you going?”“I’m staying down here.” Her smile turned wicked. “For a little while.”The meaning landed. The three of us had s
SableThe second Jarek’s bike disappeared past the end of the road, I wanted to throw up.I did not.Mostly because Marcus was standing beside me looking exactly like I felt, and one of us needed to pretend this was a reasonable thing we had agreed to.“He has his phone,” I said.Marcus nodded. “And his gun.”“He knows where he’s going.”Marcus looked at me. “He said around town.”“Close enough.”“It is absolutely not close enough.”“I know.”That was the problem.I knew exactly what I wanted to do. Call him. Ask where he was, what road he was on, whether anybody was following him. Ask him to keep the call open while he rode so I could hear his engine and know he was still moving.Maybe send Nixx after him at a distance.That last thought was bad enough that I looked toward the garage on instinct.Marcus caught it immediately. “No.”“I didn’t say anything.”“You looked at Nixx’s bike.”“I was looking at the garage.”“You were looking at Nixx’s bike through the garage.”I crossed my arm
JarekI almost changed my mind before I reached the bottom of the stairs.That pissed me off enough to keep going.The clubhouse was quiet for once. Not empty, because Black Daggers apparently reproduced whenever nobody was looking, but quiet enough that I could hear the refrigerator motor behind the bar and somebody rolling a tool chest across the garage floor.My helmet sat on the table where I had left it the night before. So did my gloves. Sable had not moved either one, and Marcus had not hidden my keys. I appreciated that more than I planned to tell them.Both of them were sitting at the bar when I came downstairs. Sable had a plate in front of her and was pretending to eat. Marcus had his phone in his hand and was pretending to read something.They were terrible actors.I picked up my helmet, and Sable’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth.I looked at her.She immediately put it down. “I didn’t say anything.”“You were about to.”“I was breathing.”“Judgmentally.”Marcus covered







