Cruz (Dark and Dirty Sinners' MC #5) - Serena Akeroyd Page 0,158

run were using borrowed bikes, and none of us were happy about it.

Most of our rides were custom, tailored to our specific preferences. It was hard to bitch about that when so many people had lost their fucking lives, and with my own dad in the hospital, moaning about a bike was just pathetic. But as I cocked my leg over the borrowed hog, I grunted as I settled into the seat and kicked off.

Not even the ride could make me smile, the wind in my face, the sun on my head, the feeling of being free... It was all bullshit.

Mom was dead, knowing the whys and the hows about her death wasn't going to bring her back, but I had to know.

Needed to know.

And since the news of her murder had hit, it felt like a dozen other bullets had been fired at the same time.

I had to think that the clubhouse was targeted because Pop was coming home, which led to me thinking that Mom's passing was the catalyst. Maybe I was wrong, maybe I wasn’t.

That was why I needed fucking answers.

The Famiglia had to be behind it, but proving that was another matter entirely.

I had already seen on the news a couple of days ago that Fieri had washed up in Connecticut, and with the head of the family now laying in a morgue, that meant the Italians were going to be at war as they figured out who would take charge.

The death of Fieri, who, if the Famiglia were behind Mom's hit, would have been the one to give the order, was a source of some satisfaction, but not much.

His execution had the O'Donnellys’ smell all over it, not mine. I should've been the one behind his death, but if the Irish had decided to take the Italian Don out, they had a reason to.

And simply being at war with them wasn't enough of a justification. In war, foot soldiers died, they were the sheep tossed to the wolves... Leaders didn’t perish.

If Fieri had pissed off the O'Donnellys, then maybe they'd have answers that would stop me feeling like I was going insane while I tried to figure out what the fuck was going on.

Sin had contacted Declan O'Donnelly after the explosion to tell them we’d be late for the run—we were even later than we’d guesstimated—but my Enforcer had never told me what the mobster had to say about the all-out attack.

Of course, I'd been with Pop in the hospital, so even if Sin had told me, I probably wouldn’t have heard.

Brain whirring with possibilities, I made it onto the side road that would lead to the clubhouse and Rachel's compound.

It was sheer good fortune that I saw the truck at all, but when the driver saw me, he gunned the engine, accelerating at a breakneck speed down the narrow lane.

My instinct was to tail him, to chase after his ass, because his presence and his reaction tripped all my triggers, but the thought that he might have attacked Rachel had me driving like a lunatic to her place. I didn't even take the guy’s plates, which pissed me off because I wasn’t usually that much of an idiot, but equally, panic over Rachel's safety took priority.

When I made it to her property, however, there were no cars there. Only the truck I knew Giulia was using, and which Rachel wouldn't be seen dead in.

My tires skidded as I hauled ass off the back of my bike, and went running up the veranda steps toward the front door.

Someone yanked it open though, and I was relieved to find that it was Giulia, who, like a bandaged and deranged Polly Pocket, was glowering at me.

"Where's the fire?"

I grimaced. "Really?"

She shrugged then bit back a pained sigh as her injury reminded her that shrugging wasn’t wise at the moment. "Felt appropriate. What's going on?" she grumbled, her voice raspy with discomfort.

"Has a truck been to the house?"

She scowled, shaking her head as she murmured, "No, we’ve had no deliveries."

"Shit!" I didn't wait for her to reply, just ran back to the borrowed bike, then headed to the clubhouse.

I didn't bother trying to find the vehicle because it could have hit the Interstate by now, and, if need be, when Lodestar was awake, she might be able to get a picture of the plates from any of the still-functioning security cameras—at least I hoped that was possible. Instead, I went to the gates that had just been installed