A small huddle of people stood outside the cinched bike shop doors, under the glow of the overhead security light. Anxiety prickled down his arms as he swung off his bike.
“What’s going on?”
The huddle dispersed, and revealed Maggie, Ghost, and Walsh – the only people ever in at Dartmoor this early, but three people who decidedly didn’t clock any time here at the shop.
Ghost had an envelope in his hands and he passed it over as Aidan reached them. Maggie’s expression was tight. Walsh looked like Walsh.
“In the mailbox this morning,” Ghost explained.
A photo slid out.We have something of yours.
~*~
“What’s this about?” Candy asked around a yawn as they all crowded into the chapel, coffee mugs in hands.
“Emergency,” Ghost said in a tight voice. “Everybody sit down.”
Aidan was already in his chair, drumming his fingers on the glossy old wood of the table. He hadn’t touched his coffee because he didn’t need it; seeing that photo of his best friend had blasted away the last vapors of fatigue. Guilt made it hard to catch his breath. All this time Tango had been destroying himself, one visit at a time with Ian, distancing himself from the club, putting himself in danger out in the far reaches of the city alone. And Aidan hadn’t intervened once. Too wrapped up in his own head, too selfish, too preoccupied with his own shit, when heknewthat Tango was two steps away from falling back into darkness at any given moment.
With a final shuffling and scraping of chair legs, everyone got settled, and Ghost didn’t waste any time. He slapped the photo of Tango down in the center of the table.
Everyone pitched forward to get a glimpse of it. Curses. Hisses.
Mercy’s face turned to granite. “Ellison,” he said.
“Ellison,” Ghost repeated.
“How the hell’d they get ahold of him?” Hound asked.
“He’s been distracted lately,” Ghost said in a guarded voice. “And hasn’t been careful. Been spending too much time out alone on the road.” His eyes slid over to Aidan, a silent communication. Only three of them knew all of Tango’s story, and it was going to stay that way, even if they had to lie to their brothers.
~*~
Sam stepped out of her classroom, juggling her bags…and almost ran right into Aidan. She pulled up short with a startled gasp. “Shit.”
“Profs should set a better example for their students than that, Miss Walton,” he said, but his tone was off, his expression too serious. Any pretenses of a smile dropped away and he stepped away from the wall, squaring off from her. “Are you okay?”
“At this moment? Not really.” Her heart thumped painfully against her ribs and all she wanted to do was fling her arms around him. “But in the grand scheme of things, yes, I’m okay.”
His eyes were so deep, and brown, and gorgeous as they drilled into hers, managing warmth and seriousness all at once. “I came by,” he said, “to tell you that there’s some things going on with the club that are–”
“Dangerous.”
He nodded. “And I don’t want you to be afraid, but I want you to be really careful. And alert. Keep an eye out for anything that doesn’t seem right, and call me if you get freaked out for even a second.”
“What happened?”
He shook his head, expression grim. “Just promise you’ll be careful, and you’ll call.”
She studied his face a long moment, tracking the familiar planes and angles, the little lines around his eyes. Something was different, something she couldn’t put her finger on, something internal.
She nodded. “Okay, I promise.”
He pressed a fast kiss to her lips before she could protest and pulled away, walking off without a backward glance.
Twenty-Seven
Whitney, Tango had learned, was twenty-years-old, owned a secondhand iPhone, and worked at a customer service call center. She had two nieces, a sister-in-law who made a mean baked ziti, and a heroin-addicted older brother who was the reason she was currently locked in a cell.
