Page 18 of Reckless

The problem is it works on me more than I like.

“You don’t look fine.”

I scoff out a laugh, folding my arms across my chest. “Well, that’s rude.”

“It’s an observation.”

“Pretty sure that’s still rude, with better marketing.” I tilt my head at him.

The corner of his mouth moves.

It’s tiny.

Barely there.

But I catch it.

“Okay,” he says.

Not because he believes me, but because he’s decided not to push.

We reach my car and his bike together. He swings onto his, while I finally dig my keys out of my pocket. “Ride safe.”

“You too.”

I chuckle. “I can’t ride my car, Ghost.”

He groans. “Why do you have to be so literal, Sage?”

“Hey, you’re the facts guy. Thought you’d like that?”

He starts the engine and kicks up the stand. “No… not really,” he says, winks, then takes off out of the parking lot.

I watch his taillight disappear around the far end of the parking structure before I realize I’m still standing there with my keys in one hand and my phone in the other.

I shake my head at myself and climb into my car.

The first text message from an ‘unknown number’ arrived two weeks ago. I haven’t deleted it. I’ve told myself it’s because I need it as evidence, which is technically true, but completely beside the point.

Unknown Number: He looks loyal. Loyal men break beautifully.

I read that line, and thought about the attached image of Ghost’s bike sitting in the clubhouse parking lot, and something shifted in me that I didn’t choose.

And I haven’t been able to unshift it since.

I’m being strategic. I’m assessing the situation and doing what I always do—taking something apart and finding the smartest way through it.

I’m terrified.

I’m not ready to say that out loud yet, though.

Not even to myself.

I start my car and drive out into the Vegas night. Behind me, the entire club is lit up with the sound of a family celebrating the best thing that has happened to them in a very long time.

But I carry the weight of that message in my pocket.

All the way back to an empty apartment.