Chapter 33
Ghost
“Stop being so fucking twitchy, Dom,” Bones mutters, eyes sweeping the abandoned warehouse we’re using as a meet point.
I take a deep breath, try to calm the fuck down. It doesn’t work. The bad feeling in my gut hasn’t eased for a second. I don’t answer him, just crack my neck and keep my eyes fixed on the entrance.
“Fuck,” he adds under his breath. “Now you’re making me twitchy.” Then he turns and heads toward Joker and Luca with a huff.
Less than five minutes later, headlights flood the place as a cage rolls through the main entrance. Idiots. All we’re missing are whistles and flags, and then we can announce to all of Tolden City that we’re here and up to no good.
Three men get out, but only one of them matters. He walks toward us with an easy smile and a spring in his step — too relaxed, too comfortable. Santiago fucking Rivera, the cartel weak-link we’ve been waiting on.
When he stops in front of me, I swear his eyes flash gold for a split second.
Huh. Must be the lighting.
“We finally meet face to face, Fantasma,” he says, cheerful as shit.
I look at his outstretched hand, then at his face. My hands stay right where they are — loose at my sides, close enough to the gun at my back and the blade in my boot.
“Santiago,” I say with a curt nod.
His crooked smile falters as his gaze shifts to Bones, now back at my side.
“This one’s intense, isn’t he, jefe?” he asks, jerking his thumb in my direction.
I almost roll my eyes, my skin prickling with the urge to move. “We don’t have time for this. Is everything ready on your side? I want this shit done tonight.”
His expression hardens instantly. He nods.
“Everything’s in place.”
Then that crooked smile creeps back, slow and satisfied like a well-fed cat.
“I’ve been waiting for Sombra’s death for years, Fantasma. You deliver that, and I’ll owe you one.”
Fucking asshole. He’ll owe me ten.
“Fuck,” Bones mutters. “This better work.” He fixes Santiago with a glare that could burn through a brick wall. “If you screw us over, there won’t be a fucking hole on this planet deep enough for you to hide from the Vultures.”
Santiago clicks his tongue. “I’m not stupid or suicidal, jefe.
You’ve got nothing to worry about on my end.
But let’s hope that tracker of yours does the job, and that it still works despite the signal jammers.
I have no idea where Sombra’s hiding. I was never trusted with that information.
Once I hand your brother over to his men, it’s out of my hands. ”
Bones opens his mouth to keep pressing, but I cut in before this turns into a pissing contest.
“Let’s go.”
I turn and start toward Santiago’s cage without looking back.
We already went over every detail on the phone. Standing around here jawing won’t change anything. I need to take my shot, and I can only hope this fucker isn’t setting me up.
I know Bones hates the plan. I know the rest of the brothers aren’t thrilled either. But I’ve been mapping this out for months. Adjusting. Reworking. Adapting to every scrap of new intel.
This is the cleanest way. The fastest way.
And after Grizz dragged Adora back onto the cartel’s radar, I need this finished. I need to know she’s safe.
And this plan is all we have. All I have.
I’m barely a few seconds inside Santiago’s cage, pulling a pair of handcuffs from my cut pocket, when he joins me in the back seat. The driver and the other passenger follow, and before I even have time to take a full breath, we’re already on the move.
“You’re on edge, Fantasma,” Santiago murmurs, staring straight ahead as he shifts in his seat. “That’s understandable.”
He throws me a sideways smile and casually pulls a syringe from the center console. I tense instantly. A ripple of unease rolls through me, cold as ice. The urge to grab my knife and gun spikes so hard I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from blowing holes through this cage.
“But you need to bring your A-game tonight,” he continues, the smile disappearing. “Or you won’t survive.”
My eyes lock on the syringe in his hand as that ever-present bad feeling in my gut flares, spreading fast through my body.
“What the fuck is that?” I snarl, jerking my chin toward it.
“A small change of plans,” he says calmly. “They want you unconscious, and they’ll know if you’re pretending.” His eyes go cold. “You don’t have to trust me, Fantasma. You just have to trust the fear of retaliation from your club.”
A beat.
“Trust the power of the Vultures.”
It takes three deep breaths for the white noise in my head to fade into silence. Acceptance. It’s worth the risk for the chance to keep Adora safe.
Without a word, I angle my neck to the left.
Santiago smiles.
“Good choice,” he says, right before the needle pierces my skin.
Adora
“So I told her that if the choice was between a handjob or nothing, I’d just go home,” Domino says, face dead serious, “because in all my years, no woman has ever been able to give me a better handsie than I give myself.”
He pauses, then adds, clearly offended, “And then she threw her drink all over me. Can you believe that? That’s what I get for being honest.”
Crickets would be heard, if there were any inside the clubhouse right now.
I stare at him, eyes wide. I have no idea why he felt the need to share this with me. I was just minding my own business, anxiously sweeping the main room, trying not to think about whatever Ghost is doing right now, when he decided to overshare shit I neither need nor want to know.
I’ve been at the clubhouse since last night, because apparently I’m in danger. Domino showed up soon after Ghost left my place, and now he’s back to playing bodyguard while I’m back on lockdown. President’s orders. Vice President’s orders too.
“Domino,” I say, lifting the broom and shaking it in front of his face, “do you see this broom?”
He nods.
“If hitting you over the head once with this broom made you ten times smarter,” I continue sweetly, “then if I hit you a hundred times, your IQ would still be below average.”
His brows knit together just as a wild, unhinged cackle explodes from behind me.
I spin around, startled, and my jaw drops, full cartoon-wolf style.
The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen strides in through the main door like she’s walking a runway.
Her hips sway with deliberate confidence, as if she’s casting a spell with every step.
Long black hair streaked with dark violet is pulled into a sleek ponytail that swishes behind her like a siren’s tail, glossy and dangerous.
Heavy gold earrings, expensive as fuck, swing against the elegant line of her neck, catching the light as she moves.
A tiny black dress clings to her like it was poured on, short enough to show off an endless stretch of smooth, shapely legs.
My gaze drops helplessly to her feet. Those heels have to be at least four inches!
I suddenly become painfully aware of my dusty T-shirt and old jeans.
“This is the mountains,” I mumble before I can stop myself.
“What was that?” the siren asks, smiling like she knows exactly what she’s doing.
I square my shoulders, take a breath, and scrape my confidence off the floor.
“This is the mountains,” I repeat louder, pointing at the ground with the broom. “You need boots. Otherwise, you’re going to break a leg.”
She laughs, and it’s another unhinged cackle, completely at odds with the femme fatale look she’s rocking.
“Oh, I’m used to keeping my balance on all kinds of surfaces,” she says, waving my concern away. “I’m Theresa.” She looks at me expectantly.
“I’m Adora,” I manage, still a little dazed.
“Nice to meet you, Adora.” She claps her hands once and snaps her attention to Domino, who’s stretched out in his chair, eyes bouncing between us. “You there. Big guy. The fridge in my cabin is empty. I need food and a good fucking.” She smiles. “In that order.”
My eyebrows shoot up.
“My new friend here will join me for dinner.” Her grin turns sinful. “And you will join me for the fucking.”
I whip my head toward Domino, holding my breath.
“You’re in luck, beautiful,” he says with a lazy grin.
“Mama and Pops should be just about done in the kitchen.” Then his smile turns apologetic.
“As for the fucking, I’ve gotta decline.
Don’t get me wrong, I’d love nothing more than to fuck you until the mattress caught fire.
But Luca would cut my dick off with a rusty saw if I touched you. ”
“Luca?” I blurt. “As in, the Romano guy?”
Theresa’s mouth twists like she just tasted something foul.
“You bikers are all fucking cowards,” she snaps, then storms toward the kitchen without another word.
“What is going on?” I ask, letting the broom slip from my fingers.
“Italian problems,” Domino says mildly, already pulling out his phone as it buzzes.
He starts typing, and my heart tightens.
Is it Ghost? He said two days. Tomorrow is two days.
“What happened?” I ask, hating how small my voice sounds.
Domino looks up immediately. His expression softens.
“I can’t tell you, Princess,” he says calmly. “Club business.”
Not fucking acceptable. Ghost’s tracker dot hasn’t moved in an hour. I snatch the broom back up and point it at Domino. His eyebrows jump.
“I took all of Fang’s cash at poker for you, Domino. You owe me a fucking marker,” I growl, heat building in my chest. “I don’t care about your stupid club business. Just tell me if Ghost is alive. Or injured.”
I shake the broom.
“Now!”
“Stop threatening me with that stick,” he growls back, offended. “He’s fine. He knows what he’s doing. They all do. This isn’t their first rodeo.”
Yeah, but will that be enough? The thought makes me drop in the nearest chair.
Ghost
I come back to myself in fragments. Weight first, then pain. Fuck, my head is pounding. I try to move, but my shoulders scream in protest. There’s the slam of a door, and then angry voices bleed into the haze around me, muffled and warped, slipping away before I can make sense of them.