Page 78 of Creed

Okay… However,thatis possible.

“Just relax,” Bane says.

“We aren’t exactly maneuverable with this rig, so we can’t outrun the bad guys if they locate us,” Army adds.

“Fucking hate cages,” Bane mutters, turning back around to face forward.

“Aw, come on, big guy, they have their uses.” Army brakes, and I brace my hand against the seat so I won’t roll off.

I assume ‘cages’ means vehicles and that riding in them, pulling a trailer with their bikes, isn’t their normal mode of transport.

“Why did you help me?”

I catch them exchanging a look, and then Bane says, “Our MC owed the Santoro family a favor, and Massimo called our Prez to collect.”

Does that mean I’m indebted to the mafia because they burned one of their favors to help me?And if my fatherishere for me, and it’s related to the cartel, then why would the Santoros or the MC get involved?

“What if you helping me puts a target on your back?” My heart pounds as I think about others, even if they’re criminals, being at risk because of me.

Bane swivels back to me. “There’s usually targets all over us, sugar.” He frowns as he scans my face. “What’s got you so pale?”

I need to be truthful. I don’t know the etiquette of this world or if I’m risking turning these seeming allies into foes, but my conscience won’t quit.

“One of the men today was my father. He was the one with the gun.”

“That’s fucking cold,” Army mutters, his hand gripping the steering wheel.

“He’s… I’m estranged from him; he’s not a part of my life, and I don’t know why exactly he’s here because he actually shouldn’t be able to cross the border.”

“Hey.” Bane reaches back and closes his hand over my clenched one. “Breathe.”

I close my eyes, trying to calm my raging anxiety, then open them again. “He’s a sicario for the Garcia Cartel.” My voice catches. “I could be bringing you into something… I don’t know what this is.”

“I don’t think your cunt of a father would be here on the cartel’s order,” Army reasons.

“Why?”

“This isn’t Garcia territory,” Bane explains. “If they pushed in or sent men here, the controlling cartel would strike back. Unless you’re the cartel boss’s princess daughter, I don’t think the Garcias would overstep like that for one of their henchmen’s daughters. No offense.”

“None taken.” My rigidness eases as my anxiety abates. “But thank you once again.”

Bane smiles and pats my knee. “You’re good people. Always concerned about others, aren’t you?”

Even to a fault.

“We’re happy we could help and get you to safety.”

Criminals with moral compasses?

That’s plausible since there are so many law-abiding citizens with no morals. One doesn’t equate to the other.

“We have to make a stop. You’ll stay in the truck, down out of sight, and keep quiet.” Bane reaches under his seat and pulls something out. He holds it up and pushes a button, and a blade flicks out. He pushes the blade back in before handing it to me. “But this is in case something goes south.”

Swallowing hard, I take the knife.

“We wouldn’t make this stop if it could be helped.” The displeasure is apparent on Bane’s face.

The truck slows and turns. I jostle on the seat as we go over what I envision is a speed bump. The bouncing happens again as the trailer tires go over it. Bane stares straight ahead, as does Army.

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