Page 131 of Falcon’s Forever

Her eyes close for half a second, then she opens them. "Go."

I smile. "That's usually my line."

"I’m borrowing it."

I lower my hand and start to move, and she catches my wrist before I get far.

"Falcon."

"Yeah?"

"Bring them home."

Not come home. Bring them home. The words feel different than anything else she's said to me in weeks.

"We will," I tell her.

Not I. We. I head for the clubhouse, and Vulture's already coming through the door with Condor behind him carrying his laptop, Zip's voice already on the radio, Rook is still watching the warehouse, Ice Pick is rerouting men, Sterling is on the phone with his contact and not giving him the address yet.

Nobody's waiting for me to save the day alone. Cara's still by her car when I glance back once. She's not watching me like she expects me to disappear. She's watching me like she expects me to do my job.

I finally understand it. What I don't know yet, walking back toward the clubhouse, is whether my job tonight is standing in that room while other men decide what happens next, or something closer to what it used to be. I don't ask. Asking would mean I still think it's mine to ask for.

I walk into Church with my brothers, and for the first time since Carrot, I let myself hope that might mean something more than a chair near the end of the table.

Chapter 18

Cara

By the time Falcon disappears into Church, the box of Emily's books is still sitting in my trunk, and I've forgotten entirely why I came outside in the first place.

A minimum of three women, possibly more. The words sit like stones in my stomach. I stand there staring at the clubhouse door long after it shuts, listening for something I can't possibly hear from here, plans being made, routes assigned, brothers deciding what comes next while I'm stuck out here with a car full of somebody else's lamp.

Falcon's deciding this with the club now, not for it. That should reassure me, it does, but I'm still terrified.

"Cara?"

Sarah walks toward me carrying another bag. Her expression changes the second she sees my face.

“What happened?” she asks.

I could tell her nothing. I’ve done it before, deciding for her what she can handle.

I’m supposed to be past that.

“They found women at the warehouse,” I tell her.

Sarah stops. “What warehouse?”

“The one connected to Merrick.”

Her grip tightens around the bag. “How many?”

“At least three.”

She looks toward the clubhouse. “Are they going to get them out?”

“Yes.”