Page 60 of Wings
I drove carefully back to the hospital, already knowing what I had to do. Park in the same spot, walk back inside like I'd forgotten something. Establish alibi, create distance from the drop, then find a way to contact Gabe without raising suspicion.
The fear would come later. Right now, there was only the mission: protect the club, protect the man I loved, protect the life we were building together.
Day shift was in full swing now, nobody questioning why the night nurse had returned—forgotten phone, left-behind wallet, happened all the time.
"Forget something?" Marcy called from the nurses' station, not even looking up from her charts.
"My brain, apparently." I forced a laugh, heading toward the break room. Normal banter, normal movements, while my mind screamed with the need to call Gabe immediately.
Old instincts warred with new trust as I navigated the familiar hallways. Three years with Alex had taught me to handle threats alone. Keep quiet, don't make waves, deal with whatever came because telling only made things worse.
But I felt different now.
My phone felt heavy in my pocket as I ducked into the supply closet—the one place guaranteed to be private during shift change. Shelves of linens surrounded me, the smell of industrial detergent sharp in my nose.
My hands shook only slightly as I pulled out my phone.
I was doing the right thing.
He answered on the second ring. "Kiara?"
I could hear the concern in his voice. He knew I wouldn't call during work unless something was wrong.
"Daddy, we were being watched." The words tumbled out before I could second-guess them. "In the park. It was Connor. The serpent from the other day."
Silence for two heartbeats. I could almost see him shifting into tactical mode, emotion locked down while he processed the threat. "Tell me everything."
So I did. Every detail I'd cataloged, every observation filed away. The exact location of Connor and his bike, the angle of surveillance, how long he might have been there. I gave it to him like a mission report, clean and precise.
"You're sure it was Connor?" No doubt in his voice, just confirmation.
"Yep,. Certain." My voice stayed steady, clinical. "He was positioned to see the whole transfer."
Another pause. I could hear him breathing, controlled and even. Then: "Good girl."
There was non fear, no anger, and no disappointment that I'd somehow failed. Just pure approval, wrapped in those two simple words.
"Thank you for telling me." His voice roughened with emotion he couldn't quite hide. "You did perfectly, baby girl. Absolutely perfect."
Tears pricked my eyes. It felt so damn good to be honest.
"I almost didn't," I admitted, needing him to know the war I'd fought. "Old habits, you know? That voice that says to keep quiet, don't make problems."
"But you did. It’s okay to have doubts." Pride saturated every word. "You trusted me with it. Do you know what that means to me? That you'd push past those old patterns and choose to let me handle this?"
I pressed my free hand to my mouth, holding back a sob that was equal parts relief and overwhelming emotion. This was what real partnership felt like. Not handling everything alone, notbeing blamed for bringing problems, but sharing the weight and being praised for the trust.
"When you're done at work," he continued, voice shifting to planning mode, "we'll talk to Duke."
"We?" The word slipped out, surprised.
"You spotted the threat. You get to report it." No hesitation. "We’ll handle it together."
"Okay," I managed. "My shift ends at three."
"I'll pick you up. We'll go straight to Duke." A pause, then softer: "I'm proud of you, Kiara. So fucking proud."
The praise washed over me like warm water. Every time Alex had called me stupid for speaking up, every time I'd swallowed fear rather than cause problems—Gabe's pride healed those wounds with surgical precision.
