Page 8 of Deathless
“The Saint,” I admitted. “I can’t decide if he’s just an eccentric guy or if he’s trying too hard to throw suspicion off him.”
“I’ve felt the same,” Torr admitted. “Can’t get a good read on him. Santos and Devin aren’t sure either, and they would probably know him best.”
“It’s frustrating when you’re not sure if you can trust someone. I hope LJ’s able to tell us something from this mission.”
“It was a good idea to put him in charge of this. That’s what a wise president does.”
“Don’t kiss my ass, Torr.”
“Fine.” He leaned in close, lips trailing the shell of my ear. “Can I eat it instead?”
I couldn’t hold back the grin, even as the riders were coming close enough to make out their faces. “If you’re a good boy.”
Torr groaned as he leaned away. “Damn, I can see why Santos loves being owned by you.”
“Stop.” I laughed. “I can’t have both of you collared and leashed.”
“Why not? You have two hands.”
“Too much power going unchecked is a dangerous thing.” I bumped into him with my hip. “I need someone to keep me in line, and that can only be you.”
“Fair enough.” Torr planted his feet wide like the guard he was, eyes on the approaching riders. “But I wouldn’t mind a ‘good boy’ now and again.”
“You gotta earn it.”
He groaned again. “Trying to give me a hard-on in front of these guys?”
“Stop trying to make me laugh.”
We continued bickering playfully until the three motorcycles pulled up in front of us. LJ, leading the trio, yanked down the bandanna tied over his mouth and nose. “Hey, Pres! VP.”
“Welcome home,” I greeted. All I wanted to do was give my cousin a big hug, but that would have to wait until we were in private. Right now, I was his president and he was my sergeant-at-arms. “What are our friends up to?”
LJ glanced over his shoulder as the two ex-gladiators pulled up to flank him.
“You are a sight for the sorest of eyes, President,” said the Saint, leaning over his handlebars with a grin.
“If it’s bad news, get it out,” I snapped. “You won’t soften me with flattery.”
“We came up to the settlement as they were in the process of splitting up,” LJ said.
“Splitting up?” Torr echoed. “The fuck does that mean?”
“They packed up and they’re moving,” elaborated the Bull on LJ’s other side. “They split up into three groups, all heading in different directions.”
Torr and I looked at each other, then back at the riders. “Why would they do that?”
“We were just as baffled as you are.” LJ, rarely without a smile, sat higher in his seat, his face stoic. “It makes no sense from a strategic standpoint to divide up their forces.”
“What directions did they go in?” I asked.
“Two of ‘em headed north, then they split. One heading northeast, the other northwest.”
“And the third?” I prompted at LJ’s silence.
He chewed his lip, hesitating a moment longer. “South.”
“Toward us.”
