Page 57 of The Lies We Tell

I hate that he’s right. It’s a suicide mission. Nine heavily armed men against the two of us with limited ammo. I nod, but angrily shrug off Spark’s hold. “Where’s the van?”

Relying on the darkness of the shadows, we crane our necks and look around the building. Two of the men close the doors on a blue utilitarian shipping container, and I catch a partial number.

“I’m guessing in there,” Spark says.

“Motherfuckers. What if there are women in there too?” I say. “We can’t just let them be taken. We need to do something.”

Unable to control my frustration, I let my voice grow louder, and two of them look in our direction.

“Move,” Spark says, shoving me back down the side of the building.

I can’t leave them, but Spark shoves me again. “Don’t make me fucking carry you. Run.”

So we do, before hopping on our motorbikes and evading the men on foot.

As we get back to Asbury Park, I pull off to my home. I know Spark is expecting me to follow him in to talk to King, but I can’t let those women go unsupported. I dig my burner phone from its hiding spot and call Jensen.

“Jensen,” he says roughly.

“It’s Ryker. I need your help.” I tell him every detail I can think of. There was a sticker with a partial number on the container. I tell him about the men. And then I tell him why I didn’t feel like I could call Weicker, that he thinks this is a distraction.

“I’m on it. Go. Do what you have to do,” Jensen says. “Keep safe.”

I trust him to do the right thing. “Thanks.”

The lot of the clubhouse empty when I finally park my bike next to Spark’s and hurry inside. I can see him in King’s office with Vex and Clutch. I stride to the office to join them, but Halo, the former Navy SEAL who is the club’s road captain, puts his arm out to stop me. “No can do, preacher man. Private conversation.”

“No. I was there with Spark; I know what’s going on.”

Halo shakes his head. “I can guarantee they ain’t having the conversation you think they’re having. King said admit no one. You know the rules. Go get a beer and chill the fuck out.”

I see Spark jump to his feet and front to Clutch. They stare each other down until King says something that makes them both turn to face him.

King tips his chin, and Spark sits down.

“Halo. I need to go help Spark with whatever this is.”

Halo shakes his head. “Trust me, you don’t wanna get yourself mixed up in whatever this shit is until it’s resolved.”

I wish I could hear what was being said. It’s obviously tense. And three of them against Spark.

They all look at Vex’s laptop, and I see the color drain from Spark’s features.

Vex says something apologetically as he runs his hand over his hair.

Jesus. This shouldn’t all matter so much. I shouldn’t care about any of them. But I do. I don’t think King really wants Spark’s blood on his hands. I don’t think he’d cope with the guilt of it after killing Skylar. Clearly, whatever Spark was just told has shocked the shit out of him.

“Watch your hand, Saint. You don’t want to do that,” Halo says.

I look down and see my hand is on my weapon.

Shit.

I let go and raise my hands.

When I look back into the room, I see King is watching me. He raises an eyebrow, and I hope the look I pass him conveys what I want it to.

Spark slams an impassioned fist to his chest and grabs his cut, pulling the patch away from his chest and directing it at King. When he’s done, he slumps back in the chair and rubs his face with his hands.