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the rusted metal fender as he snorted a gasp of clean high country air. “You fucking serious? I agree on the other two, but Fury?”
    “Yep. I don’t believe he was ratting out to that cop. If he was, don’t you think the feds would have swarmed by now? Especially after Vegas got so fucked up with the Geneti job. I believe they were just lovers.”
    Justice turned away and flipped his hands to dismiss the thought. “I don’t want to think about it.”
    “Maybe not, but the guy isn’t your rat. He’s been too broken up about the murder and he never said a word while he was on lockdown.” St. John imitated locking a cell door. “He’s our third on this mission.”
    Justice ran fingers through his knotted beard. “I’ll let him know we ride out in the morning.”
    “Deal. I’ll get everything together,” St. John said, starting away.
    “St. John,” Justice called.
    “Yeah?”
    “Take that pig tonight. You’ve earned it.” He winked before slamming out another stream of tobacco spit.

Chapter 7

    S t. John reeled over the way Justice referred to Abigail, but he wasn’t going to allow that to stand in the way of spending more time with her before he headed to California. His quarters were always kept tidy, but it felt like he was sneaking a girl into his room back at the University of Florida.
    “Justice told me to take care of you tonight.” Her head was down and voice barely audible when she appeared at his door.
    “What’s wrong?” He gently lifted her chin.
    His knees went weak when he saw the purple that surrounded her left eye. It was fresh but had already begun to speckle with dark blues and hints of black. The white of her eye was full of blood and created a purplish hue when mixed with the blue of her iris.
    St. John brushed past her toward the door. Wrath overrode his common sense. Justice would soon pay the price of his ire. She dove for him. Her body crashed to the hardwood floor and she cried out in agony. Again, St. John found himself conflicted. He badly wanted to teach Justice a lesson but his heart demanded that he care for her.
    “Please don’t do this. It’ll only make it worse on me when I’m alone with him.”
    She looked a mess, but never so tragically beautiful. It was her strength beyond a fractured frame that drew St. John to her. He wanted to save her. He’d failed to see his wife’s demons, and had vowed he’d never allow that to happen again—to anyone.
    “I can’t allow this to keep going on. You deserve better.”
    “No, I don’t Louis. To them I’m a pig. I don’t deserve better.”
    His eyes popped big as he glanced around to make sure they were still alone. “Don’t call me that again. You’ll get us both killed.”
    “I’m sorry, it’s hard to keep this lie straight. You’re the only truth in my life, yet I have to lie about who you are. It’s getting harder to pull off.” She clung to his shirt and tried to lift herself off the floor. “I’ll go downstairs and get an ice pack.”
    St. John pulled her to him, “No, let’s go somewhere else for tonight.”
    *     *     *
    Abigail felt tension and fear drain from her as they motored away. She worried about the latest guests who’d come dragging up to the clubhouse—two girls from Denver looking to party. She’d tried to warn them away but they thought the biker life was exciting and wanted to give it a try. Neither looked older than sixteen, and had no clue there’d be no leaving the life. They’d have no part of Abigail’s caution.
    “You can’t save them all,” St. John said as if he’d been reading her mind.
    “I know, but why are people so desperate?”
    “Everyone is seeking something that’s missing in their life. It usually boils down to acceptance,” St. John said. “I know that’s what’s driven me most of my life, and why I joined the agency in the first place.” He flushed as he said the words.
    “I knew it. Why didn’t you tell me the truth instead of