Chapter 7
Ace
I answer the phone as Reina pulls off my lap.
She moves carefully, one hand on my shoulder, her cheeks pink and her breath still uneven.
A small sound slips from her throat when our bodies part, and my jaw locks.
“Easy, sweetheart.”
She nods and reaches for my shirt on the floor. She pulls it on while I drag my briefs back into place one-handed.
Ghost’s voice comes through my phone. “We swept the cabin.”
That kills whatever heat is still left in my blood.
Reina sits on the edge of the bed now, eyes fixed on me.
“What’d you find?” I ask.
“One dead on the table,” Ghost says. “One alive outside. Says his name’s Deke. Third man’s gone.”
The cabin goes quiet.
“Deke give up the third man’s name?”
“Briggs,” Ghost says. “No full name yet.”
My hand tightens around the phone. “Gone how?”
“Blood trail through the west trees, then nothing. Viper and Blade are tracking.”
Briggs is loose.
With a reason to come for her.
My gaze cuts to the windows, then back to Reina. She catches the shift in me and goes still.
“He might come for the nurse,” Ghost says.
“She has a name.”
A beat.
“Reina,” I say.
Her eyes soften when I say it.
“Copy,” Ghost says. “Reina stays inside.”
I look at her.
Her chin lifts.
Damn it.
“Prospects?” I ask.
“Two on your tree line. Havoc sent them before sunrise.”
That settles something in my chest.
The Saints move fast when one of ours is at risk.
“Tell them eyes open, mouths shut,” I say. “Nobody plays hero.”
“They know.”
“If Briggs comes close, keep him breathing. I’ll make him pay myself.”
“We’ll handle our end,” Ghost says. “You handle yours.”
My gaze stays on Reina.
“Already am. You get anything useful from Deke?”
“Some. Deke and his crew hit a cartel courier two towns over. Product, cash, maybe both. Cartel caught up with them near the old logging cut. Shots fired. One of Deke’s men took one in the gut.”
My jaw tightens.
“So they grabbed Reina because they couldn’t risk a hospital.”
“Yeah. Took the wounded man to that cabin and forced her to patch him.”
Reina hears enough. Her face goes pale, but she doesn’t look away.
“And the cartel?” I ask.
“Havoc’s shutting that part down. County got an anonymous call about the dead man and the stash at the cabin. Saints are watching the roads. Cartel knows law is sniffing around and we’re not letting them tear through Lovestone Ridge looking for stolen product, so they’re backing off.”
“Briggs is hurt, alone, and stupid enough to think Reina is his loose end.”
My grip tightens around the phone.
“Because she saw who stole from the cartel,” I say.
“Yeah. And because dead witnesses don’t talk.”
“She’s not his loose end.”
“Then keep her close while we find him.”
“That was already the plan.”
“Good,” Ghost says. “We’re moving.”
The call ends.
I set the phone on the counter.
For half a second, all I hear is wind in the pines.
Then she stands.
“I have work.”
“No.”
Her brows rise. “No?”
“No.”
“That was impressively caveman.”
“Good.”
“Ace.”
“Reina.”
“I have a shift.”
“You were taken from that hospital parking lot last night.”
“And if I vanish from work, people will ask questions.”
“Let them.”
She folds her arms. The shirt rides up her thighs, and I almost lose the argument before it starts.
“I’m calling my supervisor to say I’ll be late,” she says. “But I’m going in. I just need to go home first and change my clothes.”
“Wrong answer.”
“It’s the only answer.” Her voice shakes, but her eyes don’t. “That job is mine. My patients are mine. My life is mine. He doesn’t get to take that too.”
That shuts my mouth.
I hate it.
I respect it more.
The club taught me family doesn’t mean locking someone down until they forget how to stand. It means standing close enough that nothing can knock them over.
Fine.
I can stand close.
“You’re not going alone.”
Her lips part, then one corner lifts. “What, you’re going to guard the hospital?”
She means it as a joke.
Pretty mistake.
“Yeah.”
Her smile fades. “Ace.”
“What time’s your shift?”
“I was kidding.”
“I’m not.”
“You can’t lurk around Lovestone Ridge Medical Center looking like...” Her gaze drops over my bare chest, my briefs, my bandaged shoulder. Her cheeks go red. “Like that.”
I let my mouth curve. “I own pants.”
“That is not my point.”
“I’ll wear boots too.”
“Ace.”
“Sweetheart, I’ve got two prospects in my trees, Ghost hunting, Viper and Blade tracking a blood trail, and Havoc handling the cartel end. You think I’m letting you walk into that hospital without a Saint at your back?”
Her expression shifts.
Softer.
Warmer.
Like brotherhood means something to her even before she understands it.
“The club really does that?” she asks.
“Shows up?”
She nods.
“Always.”
Her throat moves.
I step closer and brush my thumb along her jaw.
“You go to work, I go with you. I’ll keep out of your way as much as I can.”
Her brows lift.
“As much as you can?”
“I’m not a miracle worker.”
That gets me a small smile.
It hits harder than it should.
“Okay,” she whispers.
I kiss her forehead because her mouth is a bad idea and I’m already short on discipline.
“Call your supervisor,” I say. “Then we eat. Then we stop by your place for clothes.”
“You’re feeding me now?”
“You worked twelve hours, got kidnapped, saved a man who didn’t deserve it, stitched me up, and rode me hard enough to make that chair beg for mercy.”
Her mouth falls open.
“Ace.”
“What?”
“You cannot just say things like that.”
“I just did.”
Her face goes so red I nearly forget every damn problem outside this cabin.
Nearly.
I pull on jeans, boots, and a black T-shirt carefully enough not to piss off my shoulder more than I already have.
Reina digs through my dresser and comes out wearing my gray sweatpants rolled twice at the waist, my shirt still hanging loose over her curves.
Then she calls her supervisor from the corner near the bed, voice steady in that nurse way of hers, all calm edges over a body I know is still shaking inside.
She says emergency.
She says late.
She says she’ll be there.
I hate every word after that.
But I make sandwiches anyway.
Turkey, cheese, mustard, bread. Nothing fancy. Food meant to keep a body moving. I put one in front of her, and she looks at it like she forgot breakfast was a thing people do.
“Eat.”
Her eyes narrow. “You are bossy too.”
“Eat, Reina.”
She takes a bite, glaring at me over the bread.
Good.
Angry is better than afraid.
By the time she finishes, color is back in her cheeks. I check the windows again, send Ghost a quick update that Reina won’t stay put and I’m taking her in myself, then grab my cut from the chair.
Reina watches me put it on.
Her gaze catches on the patch.
Damned Saints MC.
I see the moment she understands what it means now.
Not just danger.
Protection.
Family.
I hold out my hand.
She looks at it, then at me.
“We’ll get your clothes,” I say. “Then I’m taking you to work.”
“And you’ll keep out of the way?”
“As much as I can.”
“Ace.”
“Sweetheart.”
She sighs, but her hand slides into mine.