I tap the unit clipped under my collar. “Ace.”
Ghost’s voice comes through. “You good?”
Ghost is the club enforcer. Quiet, steady, loyal down to the bone.
“Got a problem,” I say.
“What kind?”
I glance in the mirror. Reina’s face is tucked against my back. Her eyes are closed, but she isn’t sleeping. Her hands are still locked tight around me.
“Found a nurse running from two armed men. Third man inside with a gunshot wound. They forced her to treat him.”
The arms around me tighten.
“I got her out,” I add.
“Where?”
“Old hunter’s cabin north of Miller Creek. About two miles off Ridge Road.”
“Got it,” Ghost says. “We’ll handle it.”
“She hurt?”
“Shaken. Blood on her isn’t hers.”
I need to check her properly. Need better light. Need my hands on her skin only for injuries, because anything else would make me the worst kind of bastard.
Ghost says, “You hit?”
I look down at the dark wet spreading under my cut.
“Barely.”
Reina lifts her head.
I feel it more than see it.
Ghost exhales, short and sharp. “Your barely usually means bleeding.”
“Shoulder. Through meat. I’m riding.”
“I’ll send Viper and Blade,” Ghost says. “We’ll clean it up.”
“Copy. And Ghost?”
“Yeah.”
“The nurse is under my protection.”
Silence.
Then, “Figured.”
The line clicks off.
Reina’s voice comes soft behind me, barely loud enough over the wind. “You’re hurt.”