Milo and Turk set hard looks on me. The first time I’d been on the receiving end of their stares, it almost made me think twice about fighting solo again. But then, the alternative was even less appealing.
I wished I could explain it so they would understand. Hell, I wished I could understand all the reasons why it was easier to fight alone. I could say it was because of my blood. That since none of them – apart from Gray – knew what I could do with it, I was merely protecting one of my many secrets. Rogues were a law unto themselves, and I was still learning all the rules that operated under the guise of having none. I could also argue that if one of them was hurt I would feel responsible and have to heal them, creating a bond that, although nothing like that between Phoenix and me, still suggested some kind of ongoing commitment. Keeping my distance from people had become paramount to my day-to-day survival.
Really, though, I knew that it had more to do with not wanting to rely on anyone. And not being able to watch one of them take a fall.
Not that I was about to admit to any of that. These guys would eat me alive.
So instead, I shrugged. ‘I got here early and saw an opportunity, so I took it. Don’t we have somewhere else to be tonight anyway?’
Carter lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply. Of all the Rogues, Carter was the most … unpredictable. And the biggest. The guy was built like a freight train and had the strength of one too. When he pushed his hand roughly through his overgrown brown hair and narrowed his amber eyes at me, it was not in jest.
I rolled mine in response, to which I am fairly certain he growled.
‘We all know that job ain’t paying anything like this one,’ he said, not even attempting to keep his voice down.
I folded my arms, unperturbed. ‘You’ll all still get your cut.’ This was never about solo profiteering. ‘This way we can get on with the other job and you’ll all be able to start drinking earlier than planned.’
Milo threw me a wink and Turk ruffled his bleached mohawk. I read both actions as signs that they were happy enough with my offer. Carter, however, was still eyeing me off. He’d put on his full-length leather coat for nothing and was pissed he’d missed the fight.
I sighed. ‘I’ll buy you all a round,’ I offered, to which Carter grunted but tossed his cigarette and slid off the bonnet.
‘You’ll be buying at least a few, purple,’ he said, getting into the driver’s seat as Milo and Turk filed into the back. ‘Where we headed?’ he asked Gray.
‘Round the back of King’s Cross Station. That big building they have all those billboards around,’ Gray answered.
‘The new Schrager hotel?’ I asked.
Carter curled his lip. I suppose he didn’t really care who the designer was. I might have left my artist days behind, but I still noticed things like that.
‘That’s the one,’ Gray said. ‘You know the drill. It’s a London Academy job and they’re paying us to be there as back-up. Tread on their toes and we don’t get paid. Got it?’
Everyone nodded except Carter, who grunted and started his death-trap car. He didn’t offer me a lift, which sucked, since now I’d have to ride on the back of Gray’s bike. It was nothing personal, but I would have preferred the death trap. Of all the Rogues I was closest to Gray, but letting people into my space – and hanging onto them on the back of a bike classified as such – wasn’t my idea of a good time. It reminded me of things I’d never again have.
Things broken beyond repair.
Taking part in Academy business was something I preferred to avoid, but this job had come in carrying an additional request from the New York Academy, and as much as I didn’t owe them any favours, I agreed to the occasional contract. When Gray first told me about this one earlier today, I’d felt that chill on the back of my neck that I’d learned to respond to, and signed up.
‘You really should invest in some helmets,’ I said, not for the first time.
Gray gave me a flat stare and got on his Harley. ‘Feel free to walk.’
Like that was going to happen.
I hooked my leg over the seat, careful to maintain a distance between our bodies, and made a scoffing sound.
‘Well, don’t expect me to heal you if you come off and land on your head.’ As soon as the words left my mouth I froze, remembering the scars on Gray’s head.
Was that what had happened to him?
Gray’s shoulders shook for a moment before he flashed a knowing smile at me. ‘Not even close, princess. And if I’m not gonna wear a bucket on my head when I fight exiles, I sure as hell won’t be bothering when I ride my bike.’
As he started the engine and pulled out, I knew I’d lost my fight. Gray loved his bike and the freedom that came with it.
I couldn’t deny him that.