Less than an hour before, terror that he’d never feel this with her again had gripped him all the way into his DNA.
The drive to her place had been sheer torture. His sprint across the parking lot and into her building had felt like wading through wet concrete. But the minute he’d seen her dart behind the door, knowing it was her because she’d worn the same shirt as earlier, Shane had been able to breathe again.
It was an incomplete relief. A hollow victory. Because they hadn’t reached Jenna in time.
And now she was gone.
But Shane meant what he’d said to Crystal. If giving his life would restore Jenna’s, he would make that sacrifice. He refused to let Crystal suffer what he had all these years.
Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that.
A bone-jarring rattle as they crossed railroad tracks at a fast clip. “I haven’t seen a tail, have you?” Nick asked.
Beckett shook his head. “We’re clean as a whistle.”
Peering out the window of the SUV, Shane recognized the run-down landmarks of Hard Ink’s neighborhood. They were almost home. Which was good, because the team needed to make plans, and he and Crystal needed some alone time to finish their conversation.
He hadn’t thought twice about discussing his tragedy in front of the guys. She’d needed to believe in his ability to understand what she was going through, and he’d been willing to do what it took to earn that belief. Simple as.
But Shane had more to say—a lot more. He hadn’t said he’d understood just because he’d once been through the same thing. He’d said it because Crystal’s pain was his pain, too.
Apparently, that was what happened when you fell in love.
Beckett guided the truck through the fence and into Hard Ink’s lot. “We’re here,” Shane said.
“Okay,” Crystal said, her voice weary and weak. Shane kissed her hair, willing to do anything to make this better for her.
“We’ve got company,” Marz said from the front seat. Shane braced, peering over his friends’ shoulders through the windshield. The biker dude who worked at Hard Ink had just stepped out the back door, helmet in hand.
“It’s only Ike,” Nick said.
“I know,” Marz said, as Beckett pulled into a spot not far from Ike’s Harley. “Just wish we knew more about what his club was into. I know you and Jeremy think he’s fine, and he probably is. But I’d feel better confirming that he and his brothers aren’t in bed with Church.” Made sense to Shane. Everything they’d learned so far made it clear how far Church’s reach extended around this city. It’d be close to a miracle if they weren’t connected somehow. And they’d been damn short on miracles so far. The last hour proved that.
Nick looked from Marz over his shoulder to Easy and Shane. “Known the man for a while. Maybe I should just talk to him. See what I can find out.” Given how tight they were on time, that was probably the path of least resistance. Besides, Nick’s gut was usually spot on.
“Agreed,” Shane said.
Marz shrugged. “Your call, hoss.”
They spilled out of Beckett’s truck and congregated at the rear just as Ike neared. The man’s smile and greeting died on the vine as his gaze landed on the holstered piece on Beckett’s side he hadn’t tried to hide. Then Ike’s brown eyes went stone cold.
“Sorry,” Nick said. “It’s cool, Ike.”
Ike’s gaze scanned the group and landed on Crystal, tucked under Shane’s arm. “Everything okay here?” he asked. And that measured response to Beckett’s aggression and the hard-edged tension rolling off of all of them earned Ike a measure of respect in Shane’s book. The guy was tight and levelheaded. He hadn’t flown off the handle where a lot of tough guys might’ve.
“We had a bit of a situation,” Nick said.
Ike tilted his head and nailed Nick with a stare. “What’s going on?” He gestured at the group with the hand holding the helmet. “I’m not getting much of an old-friends-setting-up-a-new-business vibe here,” he said, referring to the cover story they’d told earlier in the week.
“Yeah.” Nick raked a hand through his hair. “About that.”
“You have something you need to say, Nick? Because I’m sensing some shit is going down for you. And that makes me concerned about blowback for Jeremy. Does he even know?” Ike shifted feet, growing agitation clear in his posture and the tone of his voice.
“He knows,” Nick said. “Turns out I brought some ghosts home with me from Afghanistan. Ghosts by the names of WEC and Jimmy Church. Mean anything to you?”
Ike braced his hands on his hips. “You gotta be shitting me. You’re on the wrong side of Church? That crazy motherfucker thinks he’s some kind of second coming of Christ.”
“So you know him?” Shane asked, his instinct sitting up and taking notice of Ike’s hostility. Maybe there was an opportunity here. An enemy-of-my-enemy-is-my-friend kinda thing.
“Yeah, I know him.” Scrubbing a hand over his bald head, Ike turned and paced, shaking his head and cussing a blue streak under his breath.
“He’s a Raven,” Crystal said, lifting her head off Shane’s chest and staring at the back of Ike’s cutoff denim jacket. A big black, white, and red patch of a raven perched on a skull with a knife through the eye socket covered his back. In black letters above and below, the patch read,
RAVEN RIDERS
MARYLAND
Smaller lettering above the state name read, “Death on Wheels.”
Ike pivoted, and his gaze cut straight to her. “Yeah. What of it?”
Shane tugged Crystal tighter against him, not appreciating the ice in Ike’s tone being directed as her.
She held out a hand meant to appease. “Churchmen hate Ravens,” she said. “Right?”
“Feeling’s mutual,” he bit out. “Has been for years.”
“So you don’t have to worry,” she said, looking up at Shane. “Ravens don’t get in bed with Churchmen. Ever.” This woman was smart, savvy, strong. So much to respect about her, and Shane knew he’d only scratched the surface. Her being able to confirm Ike’s independence from Church was a huge load off the team’s shoulders. Tension deflated from the air.
Ike chuffed out a laugh. “Lady knows what she’s talking about.”
A cell phone rang. Crystal gasped. “Oh, my God,” she cried. “What if that’s Jenna?” Shaking, she tore open her purse and removed the iPhone. The name on the caller ID read Bruno Ashe. “What do I do?” she asked, wide eyes flashing to Shane.
“It’s Bruno,” he said loud enough that the team knew what was going down. As everyone gathered closer round, including Ike, Shane cupped Crystal’s cheek. “Answer it on speaker so we can hear. You’ll do fine.”
“Hold up.” Marz held out his phone with the camera set to video recording. Smart thinking. Now they’d have the audio to play back just in case.
“Go ahead,” Shane said, nodding.
Crystal answered the call. “Bruno,” she said, her voice audibly shaken.
“Missing anything, baby?” he said, so smug and almost gleeful that Shane wanted to dive through the phone and tears his balls off by reaching down the asshole’s throat.
“What did you do with Jenna?” she asked. “She doesn’t have her meds, Bruno.”
“Oh, you mean the ones I’ve been paying for the past four years. And how did you repay me for that generosity?”
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, hugging herself tight. The fear and pleading in her voice made Shane bleed for her. His chest felt on fire inside.
“Who’s the guy?” he nearly growled.
Her eyes flashed to Shane’s. He nodded and mouthed, “Doing good.”
“What guy?” she said.
Bruno made a sound like a growl. “Don’t play me, Crystal. The guy with the fucking prepaid. The one I found under my desk. Interesting place in its own right, don’t you think?”