"If I were capable of remorse, I'd be sorry to have inconvenienced her. I told her to deliver my message to you, and I see I failed to specify 'in person.' I'll have to chat with her about that further.”
The tiny bite of annoyance in Ghost's voice made a shiver rip through Nasa, envisioning the results of whatever chat Ghost would have with Dillon.
Nasa didn't know her from Eve, but he wouldn't wish one visit from Ghost on his worst enemy, let alone two.
“You fucked up by not being specific, and it's her fault for not following directions? Seems like a personal problem there, asshole.”
“I suppose so,” Ghost conceded, now sounding bored. “You should know, if she leaves your compound today, she's dead.”
Nasa made a sound of unfettered rage, earning himself another patronizing tut from Ghost.
“Calm yourself, brother. I have no plans in motion for her myself, but she's unknowingly strayed into my territory. An innocent mistake, but my remaining brethren feel differently and are preparing to act in their usual fashion.
“Despite being damaged goods, blonde women bring in well over six figures to the right buyer. The dog will do a good job at protecting her, perhaps give her a chance to get away, but one never knows.
“If my message wasn't clear enough, or didn't pack enough punch, I suppose I'll have to find some other pressure point to ensure you stop looking for my sweet little wifey. One of the babies, perhaps? It would be a shame if they suddenly went missing.”
The world spun in a dizzying circle of immediate, panic-fueled fury. It took every ounce of self-control not to crush the phone in his fist as his body turned to stone.
Nasa didn't yell, he didn't rage, but the voice that came out of his mouth sounded like it belonged to a demon from the blackest of pits.
“I swear to god, if you touch a single hair on any of their heads, I will never stop. I'll focus every resource at my disposal to destroying you.”
“Your choice, brother. Stop looking for Wren, or say goodbye to someone else you love.”
Before Nasa could rip the psychotic fucker a new asshole for daring to call him brother, Ghost hung up, and Nasa was left to stand there, wondering how the hell Dillon could have possibly crossed paths with a serial murderer or the Leviathans.
She sure as fuck wasn't leaving, not until he had answers to the million and one questions he had, chief among them, who’d given her the scars on her back.
That last part shouldn't matter, but it did. It really fucking did.
Too keyed up, Nasa couldn't turn off his demon voice, and getting her out of the truck and into the compound without anyone losing a hand to her monster dog turned out to be incredibly difficult.
Not even relaying Ghost's threat of death if she left the property seemed to sway her.
It was Top who finally managed to say the magic words, “Honey, I know you're scared outta your mind right now, but you gotta know the enemy of your enemy is your friend, and all you got here are friends.
“We've been tracking down the guy who gave you that message to put a bullet through his eye, and any information you can give us will only help that goal be realized.
"Nobody here is gonna hurt you, but if it'll help you throttle down, it'll be just you and me in the conference room. The boys have shit to do.”
Nasa gave a jerk of his chin to acknowledge what Top was telling him, grinding his teeth to keep quiet.
*****
It took Nasa all of ten seconds to get from the conference room to his basement, the rest of the brothers trailing after him, talking in muted whispers.
Nasa sat down at his command center just in time to hear Dillon's sultry murmur float through the speakers of his system.
“If that ginger doesn't put the guts of my truck back together, my dog will eat him.”
Top chortled as he pulled up a chair and got comfortable, stretching his long legs casually out in front of him.
“It's probably already done, but if not, it will be by the time we're done talking.”
Raid leaned in close enough for Nasa to smell his hippie-dippie aftershave, his eyes narrowed in focus on the screens of information Nasa had compiling about Dillon DeLoughrey.
“You thinkin’ she's another one of the women Ghost uses to get what he wants?”
Nasa opened his mouth to say he hadn't abandoned the possibility, but Roar gave a grunt.
“She doesn't look like any of the women the feebs pulled out of the W.”
“She might not be recruiting kids to be sold into slavery, but that doesn't mean she's not working for or with Ghost.” Nasa ground his teeth as he pulled up as many angles as possible to see all of Dillon's face.
It made no sense that Ghost would send her here. Why would he give a shit if his brethren killed her?
“Yeah? Well, she must not be very good at it then.”
With his mouth full of popcorn, it took Nasa a moment to translate Roar's observation.
“Men are weak, Roar. We get distracted by a pretty face that makes our dick hard.” Nasa was certainly distracted.
Torn between whether or not Dillon was here to provide intel to Ghost, or if she truly was a victim in need of their help.
“I was gonna ask you when you’d started carrying a baseball bat around in your pocket.” Roar chuckled, getting crumbs all over the carpet.
“She could be a spy, but any spy worth a damn wouldn't have scars like that. She either got caught by whoever she was spying on, or her people beat the fuck out of her for failing to deliver the goods. Ipso facto, she's not real good at being a spy.”
That... that was a fair argument. Declining the offer Roar made to share
