Page 86 of The Lies We Tell

I cling to him harder. “We go together. I trust you, Saint. I know you’ll keep us safe. You have a plan, right?”

“It’s better if you don’t know it. Safer. In case ...”

I look into his eyes. “In case what? In case the Iron Outlaws find me? I’m coming with you. You can spend five minutes arguing, but it’ll take us longer to get on the road.”

“Don’t. You promised. You said you’d obey me.”

“You saidJudas. I’m running. Stop arguing with me. I’m terrified, and you’re making it worse.”

“Fine.” Saint grips my face and kisses me hard. “There’s a truck out front. Start putting stuff in there when you’re done packing up here.”

He grabs a sleeping bag, a tent, and a fishing rod from the hall closet and takes them outside. I follow him out to the truck with the first of the cases. He takes it from me and tosses it with ease into the back.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” I hear him mutter as I follow him back inside, and he begins to hurry around the apartment.

He has a backpack in his hand, and he’s grabbing things, collecting weapons and cash from hiding places. He adds electronics and wallets and cables, plus a flashlight and a fishing knife.

I have time to grab more of his clothes, and he hands me a big sports bag. I throw a few towels in the bottom first, then pile more clothes in. He disappears into the bathroom, and after a bunch of banging around, I hear the hum of a beard trimmer.

It takes five minutes, but by the time he comes out, his beard is gone, trimmed close to his face, and inches have been cut off his hair. He tosses a bag containing all the medical supplies from beneath the sink into the sport’s bag.

“Think,” he mutters. He stuffs his fleece, waterproof clothes, and hiking boots into the second suitcase he pulls from the hall closet.

His phone rings, and he looks down at it.

I want to ask who it is. I want answers. But now is not the time. Not when we are obviously running for our lives.

Instead of answeringthatcall, he makes a call of his own. His eyes are on me as he speaks.

“Listen to me and listen good, King. You’ve got about an hour. I know you are at the hospital for Spark and Iris, but you need to get the weapons out of the warehouse. You’ve all got to clean down your homes and vehicles. Cash. Weapons. Fake IDs. All of it. You need to get Track out of town. Send him and Tessa to Philly, just for now. He was the only one dumb enough to talk on tape.”

“On tape. What the fuck, Saint? What did you do?” King’s yelling, and I can hear every word.

“I did what I had to for the women. For Iris. For Br—”

He nearly says my name but catches himself. He reaches for my hand, and I take his. We’re in this together. He didn’t abandon me that night in the parking lot. Or the next day. Or the next day after that.

He’s walked every step of this with me.

Now I get the chance to repay him.

I’m going to stay with him so he knows he isn’t alone.

“You’re undercover?” King snarls, and Saint takes off his cut. My heart hurts as he lays it down with such reverence.

There’s anguish in the corners of his eyes as he gently runs his fingers over his patch.

Saint.

“Doesn’t matter who I am. Just promise me. They’ll come for the club. I blew everything up today so you guys don’t go down for what happened in the warehouse when we rescued Iris. So they’ll try to close in on what they’ve got.”

“And what have they got?” King asks hoarsely.

“Everything, King. They’ve got everything.”

Saint hangs up. “Guess I’m Ryker and you’re Rose.”

I muster the courage to make peace with where we’re at. “Meh. You’ll always be Saint to me, and I kinda prefer Briar over Rose. Rose always had her petals crushed too easily. Briar has more thorns.”