Chapter Eight
Become Precise
Steel
Harper Quinn is going to get me killed.
Not because she’s weak. Because she isn’t.
Weak would be easier. Weak would let me move her where I need her, put guards where I want them, tell her when to duck, and when to stay silent. Weak would look at the blood, the guns, the club, and fold. Harper looks at it all and starts giving orders.
And that’s the goddamn problem.
I stand in the hallway outside County’s surgical wing, watching her argue with a charge nurse like she has a personal vendetta against hospital policy. Blood still stains the edge of her sleeve. Dante’s blood. Vulture blood. Enemy blood.
And she simply doesn’t fucking care. To Harper, blood is blood. A body is a body. A life is a life until it stops being one. I don’t know how to think like that.
I know threat and target. Brother and enemy. Dead weight and useful leverage. I know how hard to hit a man before his bones break and how long it takes someone to stop fighting after fear gets into his lungs.
She knows how to keep people breathing and that alone should put miles between us. Instead, it keeps pulling me closer.
Savage stands beside me, arms crossed, eyes on the hallway. Saint is on his phone near the vending machines, pulling threads from the location Dante gave us.
“We need to move,” I say.
Savage doesn’t look at me. “We will.”
“Now.”
“No.”
My jaw locks. “Reaper is waiting.”
“That’s the point,” he grumbles.
“He thinks I’ll come alone.”
“And you’re proving him right by vibrating hard enough to crack hospital tile.”
I turn my head, and Savage meets my stare head-on. I trust this man. I’ve trusted him with blood on my hands and death at my back. But right now, trust has sharp edges, because every second we stand here is another second Reaper breathes after saying Harper’s name.
“He used Dante to get close to her.”
Savage’s gaze flicks past me. “I know, brother.” I follow his gaze.
Harper has stopped arguing with the nurse. She is rubbing the side of her neck, exhaustion starting to drag at her shoulders, but she’s still standing. Still stubborn. Still pretending she isn’t two steps from collapse.
Savage’s voice drops. “And she is still alive because you didn’t ride off half-cocked.”
Before I can feel or say anything, Saint approaches, phone in hand. “The warehouse is legit. It’s an old machine shop outside Henderson. Cameras picked up six Vultures entering in the last hour. Maybe more inside.”
“Reaper?” Savage asks.
“Not confirmed.”
“He’ll be there,” I say.
Saint looks at me. “Maybe. Or he wants us to think he is.”
“I don’t care where he wants me looking. I care where I finish this.”
Savage’s gaze sharpens. “Steel.”
Harper appears, then, like my rage summoned the only thing capable of making it worse.
“What are we doing?” she asks.
“We?” I repeat.
Her eyes narrow. “Don’t make that face.”
“What face?”
“The one where you pretend I’m furniture with a pulse.”
Saint coughs into his fist while Savage’s mouth twitches. I hate them both.
“You’re staying here,” I say.
Harper laughs once. It’s not a happy sound. “Try again.”
“No.”
Her chin lifts. “Dante is in surgery. Reaper put my name in this. Someone tried to come through my window. I think I’ve earned the right to know what happens next.”
“You know what happens next.”
“Violence.” She gives me a dirty look and squares her shoulders.
“Yes.”
She steps closer, and the hospital hallway suddenly feels too small. “And you think keeping me away from it makes me safe?”
“Yes.” The answer is final, and I can only pray she’ll accept it.
“No,” she says. “It makes me blind.”
That stops me.
Her voice lowers. “I don’t want details because I’m curious. I want them because I need to know when to brace. I need to know if Milo is safe. Suppose my apartment is still being watched. What if men show up at my work? You don’t get to keep me calm by keeping me stupid.”
She’s right. And I absolutely fucking hate that. I look to Savage for help, but he gives me nothing. We both know Raven wouldn’t be sitting this out either.
I turn back to her. “We’re hitting a Vulture location tonight.”
Her face pales, but she doesn’t look away. “The trap.”
“Yes.”
“Is that smart?” She isn’t just asking me, but all three of us.
“We’re trying.”
Saint mutters, “Comforting as always.”
Harper ignores him, and her eyes stay on mine. “Are you going?”
“Yes.”
“Will Reaper be there?”
“Maybe.”
“And if he is?”
I don’t answer. But I don’t need to.
Her mouth tightens. “Right.”
My hands curl. “Harper...”
“No. Don’t soften it now. You’ve been honest this whole time. Don’t stop because the answer gets ugly.”
I step closer. “If Reaper is there, he doesn’t walk away.”
She absorbs that, and I watch the healer in her recoil. Watch the woman who called me instead of the police wrestle with the part of herself that understands why before she nods once.
I don’t know what to do with that. She shouldn’t accept it. She shouldn’t accept me.
“You hate this,” I say.
“Yes.”
“You hate what I am.”
Her eyes lift. “No.” She looks as surprised as I feel, but she doesn’t take it back. “I hate what this world does,” she says quietly. “I hate what violence costs. I hate that I understand why you’re going. But I don’t hate what you are.”
Saint suddenly finds his phone fascinating. Savage turns his head slightly, giving us the closest thing to privacy he’ll allow.
My chest feels too tight. “Harper.”
“Don’t,” she whispers. “I can’t handle whatever that voice is doing right now.”
Her phone rings and the softness of the moment dies.
She pulls it out, glances at the screen, and frowns. “Unknown.”
I hold out my hand. “Give it to me.”
She glares, and I glare back. For once, she doesn’t argue. She answers on speaker but keeps the phone in her own hand.
“Harper Quinn,” she says.
Static ... followed a man’s voice, smooth and pleased. “You sound tired, angel.”
The hallway turns to ice. Fucking Reaper. I know before anyone confirms it. Harper’s face goes blank in that way she has when fear hits, and she refuses to bow.
“I’m not religious,” she says.
A soft laugh. “No. You’re not. You’re something better. A woman who saves men she should let die.”
My vision tunnels. Saint is already moving, phone out, tracing what he can. Savage raises one hand.
‘Wait,’ he mouths.
I hate waiting.
Harper’s fingers tighten around the phone. “Dante is in surgery.”
“I know.”
Her eyes flick to mine, and I know what she’s thinking. He has eyes in the hospital.
“Who are you?” she asks.
“You know who I am.”
“I know what they call you. That isn’t the same thing.” She looks at Saint, and he shakes his head. She’s keeping him on the line for the trace, and I didn’t even think of that.
Another laugh. “You’ve got a smart mouth. No wonder Steel likes you.”
My fist hits the vending machine before I can stop it. Glass cracks, and a nurse screams down the hall, but Harper doesn’t flinch.
Reaper hums. “There he is.”
Savage steps in front of me, his own eyes dark with rage. Harper looks at me, not in fear but in warning. Don’t give him what he wants.
I breathe once. Then again. Harper reaches out and puts her free hand against my chest. Right there in the hospital hallway. Right in front of my brothers and everyone else that might be looking. Her palm presses over my heart, and the quiet fractures.
“Steel,” she says softly.
I stare down at her hand, and I don’t move a fucking inch.
Reaper hears the silence and laughs again. “Touching. Is she calming the attack dog now?”
Harper’s eyes sharpen. “Oh, sweetie,” she says into the phone. “If he were an attack dog, you’d already be missing your throat.”
Saint’s eyebrows shoot up, and Savage looks almost proud. I feel like I am going to lose my damn mind.
Reaper’s amusement thins. “Careful, Harper.”
“No,” she says. “You called me. So you listen. I don’t know what kind of pathetic power game you’re playing, but you dragged a medic into your little biker tantrum because you couldn’t get Steel’s attention any other way. That doesn’t make you dangerous. It makes you desperate.”
There’s a beat of silence before Reaper’s voice comes back colder. “He can’t protect you forever.”
Harper’s hand presses harder against my chest.
“He doesn’t have to protect me forever,” she says. “Just longer than you survive.”
Fuck.
My blood turns molten, and my dick thickens behind my zipper. It’s not rage I feel this time but something far fucking worse. Pride. Want. Devotion burning so hot it actually hurts.
Reaper breathes into the line. “I’m going to enjoy making him watch.”
The call cuts. Nobody moves.
Then Saint says, “Got enough. Not an exact location, but close. The signal bounced off towers near Henderson.”
“The warehouse,” Savage says.
“That would be my guess.” Saint is already tapping at the screen on his phone.
Harper lowers the phone slowly. Her hand is still on my chest. She realizes it at the same time I do, and her fingers twitch. I cover her hand with mine before she can pull away.
Not trapping, just holding. Her eyes jump to mine.
“You shouldn’t have baited him,” I say.
Her mouth trembles once before she gets control of it. “You’re welcome.”
“Harper.”
“He wanted you wild. I thought annoying him would be more productive.”
Savage exhales through his nose. “She’s not wrong.”
I look at him. “Don’t encourage her.”
“She doesn’t need encouragement.” There’s a smirk on his face that I want to smack off.
Harper tries to pull her hand back, and this time, I let her go even though every part of me wants to keep that touch against my chest until I can breathe right again.
Savage turns to Saint. “Get Fury, Crimson, and two vans. No bikes near the warehouse until we know lines of fire. I want eyes, exits, and a back door before we move.”
Saint nods and walks off.
Savage looks at Harper. “You stay at the hospital until Dante comes out. Mama M is sending two men to sit outside the surgical floor, and Raven is on her way. ”
Harper glances at me, and I hate that she checks my reaction. I hate that I like it more.
“And Steel?” she asks.
Savage’s gaze cuts to mine. “Steel follows orders.”