"You ever think about what happens if we don't make it?" I asked, watching the city blur past.
Damron's jaw tightened. "We make it."
"That's not an answer."
He shot me a sideways glance, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift. "You want honesty? If Ghost gets his hands on you, he'll make what I did to that prospect look like a fucking massage. He'll keep you alive just long enough to make sure I hear every scream."
The words hit like ice water, but I didn't flinch. "Then we better not let that happen."
He almost smiled. "There's the woman I married."
We took the exit toward my neighborhood at seventy, the truck's suspension groaning as Damron hauled it around the curve. The Harleys stayed tight, their headlights cutting through the darkness like angry eyes. I could see the glow on the horizon before we crested the hill—orange and hungry, reaching toward the stars.
"Fuck," Damron breathed.
My house was a bonfire. Flames poured from every window, the roof already caved in on one side. Fire trucks lined the street, their hoses barely making a dent in the inferno. Neighbors stood in clusters on their lawns, faces lit by the destruction, phones out to record the senator's life going up in smoke.
Damron pulled to the curb two blocks away, engine idling. The bikes formed a loose perimeter, riders dismounting with the practiced ease of men who'd done this before. Nitro jogged over to the driver's side window.
"Fire department's backing off," he reported. "Structure's too far gone. They're just trying to keep it from spreading."
I stared at the flames, watching twenty years of carefully curated political life turn to ash. The antique desk where I'd written my first campaign speech. The framed photos of handshakes with governors and senators. The closet full of power suits that had cost more than most people's cars. All of it feeding the fire now, smoke billowing black against the stars.
"They're sending a message," I said, voice steadier than I felt.
Damron nodded grimly. "Loud and fucking clear." He keyed the radio clipped to his visor. "Augustine, what's your twenty?"
Static crackled, then Augustine's voice came through: "Two blocks south. Got eyes on a white Escalade, Arizona plates. Four occupants, all male. They're just sitting there, watching the show."
"Copy that. Nitro, take two bikes and box them in. I want to have a conversation."
Nitro grinned, the kind of expression that promised pain. "With pleasure, Prez."
I watched the bikes peel off into the darkness, their taillights disappearing around the corner. The fire department was already packing up, accepting defeat. My neighbors had started to drift back inside, the entertainment value wearing thin now that the roof had collapsed completely.
"So what now?" I asked. "I'm officially homeless, and Ghost's made it clear he can reach me anywhere."
Damron's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Now we stop playing defense."
My phone rang from the glove compartment—the burner I'd forgotten about. I fished it out, checked the caller ID. Unknown number, but the area code was local.
"Answer it," Damron said. "Put it on speaker."
I hit accept and held the phone between us. "Senator St. James."
"Well, well. Heard you lost your house tonight. Shame about all those pretty things burning up."
Damron's jaw went rigid. "Hello, Ghost."
A chuckle, dry as desert wind. "Damron St. James. Been a long time, boy. You still fucking other men's daughters?"
"Only when they're worth the trouble," Damron shot back. "Your little fire show was cute, but it's gonna cost you."
"Cost me?" Ghost laughed, a sound like breaking bottles. "Son, I'm just getting started. That pretty little senator of yours, she's gonna learn what happens when she tries to shut down honest businessmen."
I leaned toward the phone. "This is between you and him, you crazy bastard. Leave me out of your pathetic dick-measuring contest."
The line went quiet for a long moment. When Ghost spoke again, his voice had gone cold. "Oh, sweetheart. You made it my business the minute you spread your legs for that piece of trash. Now you get to pay the price for his sins."
