Page 116 of The Games We Play

Ihurry Iris to the van and Saint follows me with the keys. The others are still inside, figuring out how much cleanup is required. But all I give a fuck about is the woman in my arms. Her head lolls as gravel crunches beneath my boots. It’s cold, so she must be freezing in just my shirt.

“Fuck, hold on, Iris,” I mumble. I don’t know how much damage has been done to her. I just know that a piece of me died when I saw her hanging from a fucking hook.

The image is burned into my brain for all time. And if it feels this awful for me, I can only imageherpain.

“She’s going to need to tell the truth of what happened here,” Saint says.

“Can’t think about that now. Open the door.”

Saint does as I ask, and helps me slide her onto the rear seat and strap her in. I go to take the keys from him, but he moves his hand back a fraction. “I’m taking her.”

“What the fuck, Saint. Give me the fucking keys.”

“Do you trust me with your life?” he asks. His eyes are dark.

“Of course, but we’re wasting time.”

He grabs my wrist. “Do you trust me with hers?”

“For fuck’s sake. Don’t make me hit you. Give me the goddamn keys.” I go to snatch them from his hand, instead, he hugs me.

“I’m your only path out of this, Spark. The only path where Iris can be truthful, tell her story, have her day in court if the pursuit of this organization goes anywhere without incriminating you.”

“What do you mean?”

Saint sighs, marks the sign of the cross over Iris, then closes the door.

“I’m not who you think I am. I’m an undercover ATF agent.”

I go for my gun but remember it’s out of bullets after what happened inside. “You traitorous bastard.” I look over to the warehouse, but Saint puts his hand on his gun.

“Never fired a bullet, tonight. Don’t make me. The woman we saved that very first night, the one that started all this. She gave me some intel. I passed it on to those who need to know.”

He glances over to where a couple of the guys have come out for a smoke, and I swear I see something akin to longing in his eyes. “I can safely go on the record and put myself here, saying I followed a tip on the case of the other missing women. I can say I saw a shoot-out between two groups. Russians and Brotherhood. That I saw the woman, recognized her as Iris, and saved her. You can’t do that without incriminating yourself.”

I’m looking at the man, but it’s like he’s speaking a strange language. “You were my friend.”

“Still am. Blowing up my undercover op and likely my career for this. Because you’re a fucking good man, Spark.”

I’ve never been so torn on the right thing to do. “King will have you killed for this.”

“Probably. But if you guys clean this up, Iris will be stuck, unable to talk about her memories of it. And if you guys clean this up, the lead on who is doing this goes cold. The first woman we saved—she’s my fucking Iris, Spark. So much has happened, but I know what you’re going through right now. I know what these bastards do. I know what it feels like to ... to love someone who has been through what Iris has. I can’t let this fucking lead go cold while you try to hide the fact you were ever here.”

I can’t put this puzzle together. It’s like a jigsaw but all the pieces are black. He’s right, though. We’ll never be able to unravel all of the pieces of this as a club. But maybe the FBI or whoever has the kind of reach we don’t, can. “I don’t even know you.”

“Still the same guy. But I gotta go. Jump on your bike, but then go hang out at a bar near the hospital and wait until I call. Give yourself an alibi.”

My heart is in my mouth. “I can’t watch you drive off with her. She’s my fucking world.”

“It’s half an hour now, or a lifetime if you end up incriminating yourself and going to prison. Text King in five minutes that you see police cars headed his way. Get the club out of there. They aren’t the bad guys. I’ll call King myself once I’m clear of the hospital.”

“I still don’t understand why.”

Saint huffs. “What would you give to find the men who just hurt Iris?”

Ice water floods my veins. “Everything. I’d kill those fuckers in a heartbeat.”

He grips my bicep, and suddenly thoughts of weapons and killing him ease away. “Then let me go do what I do. Let me do this. I’ll even feed you what I know. If you get to them before me, you tell me. I want a piece of them as much as you do.”