Page 67 of Property of Rattler

But it’s his eyes, flicking up then down, and the way he starts shaking his head frantically that alerts my sixth sense. I throw out my arm to hold Tempest back, then try to interpret what Rat’s obviously trying to tell me. Then I see it as I follow the direction his head keeps jerking toward, in the corner high up, there’s a red blinking light.

Tempest tries to push past me, but I elbow him in the stomach to stop him entering.

Mouthing,We’ll be back, to Rattler, I push Tempest hard. “Upstairs,” I hiss, quietly.

“What the actual fuck?” he asks, as we reach the hallway, at the same time as Short and Woody appear.

“All clear on the second floor,” Short informs me.

But I don’t answer, I’m too busy taking out my phone.

“Pippa? We’ve found Rat. It’s a fuckin’ trap.” I bring my mouth away from the phone, and address Tempest. “Phone Saint, get them to abort and get back to the club. I think that’s where Stone will be making an attack. He never expected we’d just give up Ames.” Then to Pippa I say, “Rat’s here. He’s got a bomb strapped to him. And there’s a camera that’s recording live. I reckon Stone will detonate it as soon as we try to free him.”

Pippa’s voice is calm and controlled. “I’m hacking into the Wi-Fi at the rental. Give me a moment.” I raise on my toes, lower my heels, then repeat the action. There’s no telling whether Stone might have seen Rat trying to communicate with me and explode the bomb. It’s obvious he wanted to erase anyone coming to his rescue, as well as the man himself. I’m just about to tell my brothers and warn them, let them make the decision for themselves, to stay to try to help Rat, or to minimise the damage to the Kings. But I hold back. If my sergeant-at-arms realised the danger, his duty would be to try to get me out. And I’m not fucking going. I put Rat in this predicament. I’m not going to leave him.

It seems all too long, but is only a matter of minutes, before Pippa starts talking again. “Okay, I’ve hacked into the Wi-Fi and found the camera. I’ve taken some footage of Rattler, I’ll put it on a loop. I’ve not got much, Bullseye, so you’ll have to be quick before Stone gets suspicious.”

That’s great. Though I’ve no idea how to disarm a bomb. Freak might, but he’ll be on his way back to the compound. “I’ll call Freak.” Out of anyone, he’ll probably have some idea.

Pippa says calmly as she instructs, “Freak’s on his bike. I’ll have visual if you go to Rattler and video call me. Show me what we’re dealing with.”

Hope blossoms, then doubt. “You can talk me through disarming the bomb?”

“If it’s not booby trapped. I’d rather be there myself, but if Stone’s heading our way, it would be best if I stayed at the compound.”

Saint would have my guts either way. If she comes here, she could die in an explosion. If she stays at the club, she could be in the middle of a firefight. Pippa won’t run and hide. She’s not built that way. I know she’ll do all she can to protect Ames. And I also know it’s not worth wasting my breath to dissuade her.

“I’ll call you back when I’m with Rattler.” I end the call.

Having been near enough to hear both sides of the conversation, Tempest’s eyes are set. “You’re not going back down there, Prez.”

“Everyone get the fuck out of here,” is my only response before I turn and rush down the stairwell before he can physically get into my way. Stampeding feet tell me they're all following me. I don’t bother to berate them.

“Untie him.” I shoot the order over my shoulder, not caring who obeys. To Rat, I say, “Stay fuckin’ still.”

Rattler doesn’t need to be told. He just sighs with relief when his gag is removed, and his legs and arms are free.

I initiate the video call with Pippa. The first thing I ask her, is, “If Rat drops the bomb and runs, how much time do you think we have?”

“None, I suspect,” she answers, emotionlessly and one hundred percent professional. Then calls out, “Rat, did he tell you to stay still?”

“As the fuckin’ grave,” Rat answers, not moving anything except for his head.

“Go closer. Let me see what I’m dealing with.” I do, waving Tempest away as he tries to take the phone off me. I try to show her the device from every angle. When I move too fast, she tells me to slow. Finally, she sighs. “It doesn’t look very sophisticated to me. Cut the red wire.”

“Get your fuckin’ ass upstairs,” Tempest growls. “I got this.”

Ignoring him, I address Woody, “Go see if Knight’s got wire cutters in his toolbox.” When he’s running up the stairs, I turn to Short. “You’ve got Bronwyn and Trip, get out of here.” When he hesitates for too long, I growl, “That’s a direct order from your prez. You fuckin’ disobey, I’ll have your patch.”

Throwing his hands up, he goes to the exit, shoulders rounded, his posture defeated.

“You too, Tempest.”

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ crazy.”

“I can strip your patch too,” I retort.

He tenses and flexes his muscles. “Only if you’re around to do it.”