Page 84 of Wings
He kissed my forehead, mistaking my need for control as simple curiosity. "Of course, baby girl. No secrets between us."
No secrets. Except the one already forming in my mind. The knowledge that I could help.
"It's getting late," Gabe said, checking his phone. "You have an early shift tomorrow."
"Will you stay?" I hated how small my voice sounded. "Just until I fall asleep?"
"Always, angel."
After I brushed my teeth, he carried me to the bed.
The fairy lights cast soft shadows on the ceiling. Gabe's breathing evened out beside me, his arm heavy across my waist.
"I want to help," I whispered into the darkness.
Gabe's arm tightened around me immediately, his whole body going rigid with rejection before I'd even explained. "Absolutely not. You're staying here, safe, while we handle this."
I pushed up on one elbow, meeting his eyes in the dim light. The words I'd rehearsed all evening tumbled around in my head like scattered puzzle pieces. "Gabe." Just his name, not Wings, not Daddy. His real name for a real conversation. "I know that body shop."
Something shifted in his expression. Not quite surprise, but maybe recognition that this conversation was happening whether he wanted it or not.
"I used to go there with Alex sometimes." The memories tasted like old pennies and stale smoke. "Back when things were bad. When he needed to score and didn't trust leaving me alone. I'd wait in the office for hours while he did business."
"Kiara—"
"I know the layout." I pressed on before he could shut me down. "The blind spots where the cameras don't reach. Where they keep the cash room—it's actually an old paint booth they converted. The back door that looks locked but just needs to be lifted and pushed at the same time. Where someone could hide if they needed to."
His hand came up to cup my face, thumb stroking my cheekbone with gentleness that made my chest ache. "That knowledge is helpful, baby girl. You can draw us maps, walk us through—"
"No." The word came out firmer than intended, steel I didn't know I possessed. "I mean, I could help with the actual . . . with being there."
"Kiara, no." His Daddy voice, the one that usually melted my bones and made submission feel like flying. But this was too important for power dynamics.
"Hear me out," I pleaded, catching his hand and holding it between both of mine. "You need a distraction that won't seem suspicious. What's more natural than Alex's ex showing up where she knows he'll be?"
The tactical part of his brain engaged despite his emotional rejection. I could see it in the way his eyes tracked middle distance, running scenarios. "You want to be bait."
"Not bait," I corrected quickly. "A diversion. I show up acting like I'm looking for him, maybe drunk, maybe desperate. His guys try to throw me out, I cause a scene. Everyone's focused on the crazy ex-girlfriend causing drama, nobody's watching Alex as closely."
"While someone else gets close enough to lift the phone." He was seeing it now, how perfectly it would work. How my presence would create exactly the kind of chaos they needed. "Fuck."
"I'll have backup," I added, pressing the advantage while his defenses were down. "You could position people nearby. The second the phone's secured, I disappear. In and out, just like you taught me about operations—speed and surprise."
"I haven't taught you about operations." But his protest was weak, undermined by the fact that I'd absorbed everything just by watching him work.
"Three minutes," I said, remembering the smoke grenades I'd hidden. "That's all I need. Show up, cause chaos, vanish. Alex won't hurt me in front of his guys—it would make him look weak. And his prospects won't touch me without his direct order."
"You don't know that."
"I do." Bitter certainty in my voice now. "I spent three years learning exactly how he operates. His pride won't let him showvulnerability in front of the Serpents. He'll want to handle me privately, which means he'll tell them to let him deal with it. That hesitation is all we need."
Silence stretched between us, heavy with everything unsaid. I could feel him wrestling with it—protective instincts warring with tactical advantage.
"If I say no?" he asked finally.
"Then I respect that. But Wings, I know things about that shop you can't learn from surveillance photos. Like how sound echoes in the main bay, so you can hear conversations from the office. Or that there's a crawlspace above the cash room where someone small could hide."
Each piece of information was another weight on the scales, tipping them toward inclusion. I watched him process it all, that beautiful tactical mind running calculations.
