2. Tempest #2
Ghost is quiet for a moment. "Under protection?"
"Omen's...”
“You mean to tell me that the president of the Connecticut chapter of the Kings of Anarchy is keeping her safe?”
I nod. “Lorenzo's been the point of contact."
Ghost scrubs his hand down his face. "And now yours."
"And now mine."
He turns his coffee mug slowly between his hands. "She got a name?"
"Lilah."
He nods. "If she's under our protection, she's one of ours."
Conversation around the clubhouse doesn't stop, but it shifts. Everyone heard him. Ghost looks over his shoulder. "Savage."
"Yeah, Prez?"
"Word gets around. I want to know if anybody sees anything off around the florist on Whitmore."
Savage nods. "You got it."
Ghost's gaze sweeps across the room. Nobody says a word, nobody needs to. Message received.
I catch Hades watching me. He raises an eyebrow; I don't say anything. He smirks into his coffee and leaves it alone.
Hades catches me as I'm heading for the door. "You heading home?"
"Yep."
He rubs the back of his neck, looking almost sheepish. "I need a favor."
I lean against the doorframe. "What'd you need?"
"Flowers."
I stare at him and he shrugs. "Evie's birthday's Friday."
My brows furrow. "Thought that was dinner?"
"It is."
"So buy her flowers."
"I am." He sighs. "I don't know flowers."
A laugh escapes me. "You've got daughters."
"They pick weeds and tell me they're bouquets. Doesn't mean I know what I'm doing."
I shake my head. "What am I getting?"
"Something she'll like."
I shake my head. Christ. "Helpful."
"I know." He grins. "She notices when the house doesn't have flowers."
I nod. "I'll sort it."
"Appreciate it, brother." He claps me on the shoulder before heading back toward the bar.
Forty minutes later, I push open the florist door, warm air rolls over me as I take in the room.
Buckets line the walls, bursting with color; the front of the shop is mostly glass—good for business, but bad if someone wants to sit outside and watch—and there’s only one security camera above the register, I don’t see another.
There’s a door behind the counter, probably leading into the workroom, and another at the back, which likely opens into the alley.
Movement catches my eye, and a second later, she steps through the doorway, an apron covering the front of her jeans, a pair of pruning shears hooked into one pocket. She stops when she sees me. Something flickers across her face, but it’s gone almost as quickly as it appeared.
Most people wouldn't have noticed, but I do.
She recovers quickly. "Can I help you?"
"I need flowers for a birthday."
She’s nervous, eyes wide, her hands are by her side, but I see the slight tremble in them. "When is it?"
"Friday."
She nods. "Do you know what she likes?"
"Colors."
That earns me the smallest smile. "I'll see what I can do."
She moves along the buckets, studying them for a moment before reaching for a handful of stems. She doesn't rush or speak to fill the silence; she simply works, turning flowers in her hand, swapping one stem for another until she's happy with the balance.
My attention drifts to the front windows, scanning the street. Aside from a delivery truck double-parked across the street, there’s nothing worth remembering, no one hanging around watching or acting strange.
"What do you think?" she says as she holds up the arrangement.
It's a huge bouquet of pinks, purples, and creams.
"She'll like that."
She wraps the bouquet in brown paper and ties it off with a ribbon before setting it on the counter. "That'll be sixty-eight dollars."
I hand over the cash, and she counts out my change and places it beside the bouquet instead of into my hand—just like the groceries and the tin of tomatoes.
I pick up the flowers. "Thanks."
"You're welcome."
I head for the door, the bell above it chiming as I step back onto the sidewalk.
Walking into the clubhouse, I see that a lot of the guys are gone. Ghost's in the main room with Savage and Rogue, the three of them spread around the table with a stack of paperwork between them. Ghost glances up as I walk in, takes one look at me, and pushes the papers aside.
"What happened?"
My brows furrow. What the hell? "What?"
"You look pissed the fuck off, what happened?"
I set the flowers on the end of the bar and Hades appears from somewhere in the back of the clubhouse, and picks up the bouquet, studies it for a second, then looks at me.
I raise a brow. "They good?"
"She'll love them." He claps me once on the shoulder before disappearing again.
I pull out a chair, Rogue closes his laptop, and Savage leans back, waiting.
"Lorenzo was right," I say
Ghost crosses his arms over his chest. "Tell me."
I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table. "I watched her build a bouquet and she never came around the counter, she kept it between us the whole time."
I think back to the apartment steps. "Yesterday, she dropped her groceries. I reached for the same can she did and the second my hand got close; she froze." I take a deep breath. "I backed off." I shrug. "And she relaxed."
My brothers are silent and I look between them. "Maybe it's nothing." Even as I say it, I know I don't believe it.
"It isn't," Ghost says.
I rub a hand across my jaw. "She watches the street while she works."
Rogue's brows knit together. "Checking who's outside?"
"She did the same outside our building," I continue. "Checks before she leaves, she keeps people in front of her and doesn't let anyone get too close."
Ghost leans back in his chair. "Lorenzo tell you anything else?"
"No."
Ghost is quiet, his fingers pressing against his lips. "But he trusts Omen."
I nod. "Yeah."
Ghost nods. "That's enough for me." He looks at Rogue. "See what you can find."
Rogue opens his laptop again. "I'll start with Connecticut."
Ghost looks back at me. "You keep doing what you're doing."
"Which is?"
"Nothing different,” he says and I raise an eyebrow. "She doesn't need another man watching her."
I nod. "I can do that."
Ghost picks up his coffee again. "If she's carrying something that heavy..."
He doesn't finish the sentence; he doesn't need to. We'll find out soon enough.