Complicated.
Dylan:Isn't everything with you?
Kid's got a point.
I go back to the inventory sheets, but Ghost returns before I can focus.
"Candy's been handled," he says simply. That could mean anything from exile to worse. "But we got bigger issues. The Ghost Clinic."
"Joker mentioned the van."
"I want it under our protection. Today. That nurse is doing God's work, and other clubs have been sniffing around. Can't let them claim her."
Her.The angel nurse. My Angel who just texted me about Miguel's suspicions. My Angel whose brother is definitely in an MC—the way she talks about him, the surveillance, the protection. Just please, God, not the MC I'm thinking.
"I'll handle it," I say.
"Today, Z. Find that van, follow it to whoever runs it, make them an offer they can't refuse."
I nod, already knowing what I'll find. Already knowing that Santos Electric van with its magnetic lies belongs to an angel with tired eyes and skilled hands who saves lives while I destroy them.
My phone buzzes.
Angel:Can't stop thinking about last night.
The kiss?
Angel:No. Your texts. Being claimed by words.
Wait until I claim you with more than words.
Angel:Promises, promises.
I always keep my promises.
Angel:That sounds like a threat.
It's a guarantee.
Ghost clears his throat. "You good?"
"Yeah. Just handling something."
"Handle the van first. Your dick can wait."
If only he knew. If only he knew that the van and my dick are converging on the same target. That his Ghost Clinic angel is my Angel, and she's connected to someone who'd start a war over her.
I stand up, grab my jacket. "I'll find the van."
"Good. And Z? When you find the nurse, be nice. We need her cooperative, not scared."
Nice. I can do nice. I've been doing nice through texts for weeks, claiming her with words and voice notes, making her come with just seventeen seconds of audio.
But now I have to find her van, approach her as Iron Talons, make her an offer of protection she can't refuse, all while knowing her brother would skin me alive for texting her, let alone claiming her.
I head for my bike, already knowing where to start looking. Hospitals. She mentioned working today. And if Santos Electric is the cover, then the Mobile Mercy Unit is underneath, like everything about us—lies covering truth covering more lies.
My phone buzzes one more time.
