Page 85 of Wings
"The second anything feels wrong, you abort," he said, and my heart leaped knowing I'd won. "I mean it, Kiara. The fucking second your instincts say run, you run."
"I promise."
"We plan every detail. Every contingency." His hands framed my face now, holding me still for the intensity of his stare. "Entry route, exit route, backup exit, rally points. You wear a tracker. You follow the plan exactly."
"Yes, Daddy." The title slipped out, acknowledging the shift back to our dynamic now that the negotiation was complete.
"And after . . ." He pulled me down for a fierce kiss that tasted like fear and determination. "After, you let me take care of you. However long it takes to process, whatever you need. No hiding, no pretending you're fine if you're not."
"I promise," I whispered against his lips.
He rolled us so I was under him, caged by his body in the most protective way possible. Like he could shield me from whatwas coming through sheer will. "I don't like it. Everything in me screams to lock you in this room until it's over."
"But?" I prompted, hearing the concession in his tone.
"But you knowing the layout changes things. And Alex would definitely be distracted by you showing up." Another kiss, this one softer. "My brave girl. Too brave for your own good."
We stayed wrapped in each other as the fairy lights continued their gentle dance.
Chapter 16
Wings
Mykneesprotestedagainstthe van's ridged metal floor, but I'd held worse positions for longer ops. The cloned phone sat heavy in my palm—2.3 ounces heavier than Alex's original, a detail that shouldn't matter but everything in me screamed it would. Tank had parked us perfect in the alley, angle giving clear sightlines to Junker's Auto Shop’s back entrance while keeping us invisible in the darkness between two dead streetlights.
"Stop fondling the phone," Dex muttered from beside me, fingers dancing over his laptop keyboard. "You've checked the weight six times."
He was right. But my hands needed something to do besides imagine all the ways this could go wrong. The phone was perfect—same model, same case. Baron had provided impeccable intel. Only difference was the extra hardware we'd installed, the stuff that would let Dex pull every transaction, every message, every digital confession my brother had been stupid enough to record.
"Thirty seconds," Dex said for the third time. "That's all I need once you make the switch. The spyware establishes connection, starts dumping his transaction history straight to my laptop. Clean and simple."
Clean.
Right.
Nothing about tonight felt clean.
Through the grimy back window, I watched the street beyond Junker's stay empty. 1:47 AM on a Tuesday—the deadest part of a dead night in a dead part of town. Even the working girls had given up by now, leaving just us and whatever other predators hunted in darkness.
My earpiece crackled. "Phoenix holding position two blocks north." Thor's voice, steady as granite. Using Kiara's code name like it could keep her safer, like calling her something else might trick the universe into protecting her.
I pulled up the tracker app, the little blue dot pulsing steady right where it should be. My girl, sitting in Thor's truck, probably white-knuckling her phone and running through her lines one more time. She'd practiced all evening—getting the drunk act just right, not sloppy enough to be ignored but not together enough to be threatening. The mascara she'd carefully smudged before we left. The way she'd made her voice crack on Alex's name until it sounded like heartbreak instead of rage.
"He's inbound," Tank said from the driver's seat, eyes on his side mirror. "Right on schedule."
The whine of Alex's Kawasaki cut through the night, that distinctive note from the aftermarket pipes he'd installed. I'd helped him with that mod, spent a whole weekend in our garage getting the baffles just right. Back when we were brothers in more than blood.
The bike swept into the bay, followed by two Harleys that rumbled like proper motorcycles should. Serpent prospects,there to watch the door while Alex counted his take. Or what he claimed his take was.
Alex dismounted with that casual arrogance I remembered from childhood, when he'd strut into the kitchen after sneaking out and Mom would pretend she hadn't heard him leave. But the body moving under his Serpents cut was all wrong—too thin, movements too sharp. The paranoid head swivel of someone who knew they were stealing. The chain on his belt caught the fluorescent lights as he headed for the old paint booth, phone bouncing against his hip with each step.
"Jesus," Dex breathed, getting his first good look at my brother. "He looks like shit."
He did. Gaunt face, hollow eyes, that particular kind of thin that came from choosing drugs over food too many times. This Alex had hit bottom and started digging.
"Phoenix is moving." Thor's voice snapped me back to mission focus. "Two minutes out."
I forced my breathing into the steady rhythm that had kept me alive through three deployments. In for four, hold for four, out for four.
