She listens intently, asking questions occasionally, and slowly I watch some of the tension leave her shoulders. By the time my phone buzzes with a text from Ghost saying he's got her clothes, she's almost smiling.
"That's Ghost," I tell her. "He's got clothes for you."
"Ghost? That's his name?"
"Road name, yeah. I'll grab the stuff and bring it back."
I head out into the hallway where Ghost is waiting with several shopping bags.
"Pope already knows and wants to see her," Ghost says without preamble. "Tomorrow morning. Ten sharp."
"She'll be there."
"She’s trouble?"
"Maybe. Probably. Yeah."
Ghost hands me the bags. "You know what you're doing?"
"No fucking idea."
"Perfect." He turns to leave, then pauses. "She pretty?"
"Irrelevant."
"That means yes. Be smart, Knuckles. Don't shit where you eat."
"I'm not… It's not like that."
Ghost gives me a look that says he doesn't believe me for a second. "Sure it's not. Just remember, she's under club protection now. That means hands off unless she asks. And even then, think twice."
He leaves before I can respond. I bring the bags back to the room and knock three times. Savannah opens the door, still in the robe.
"Clothes," I say, handing them over. "Ghost did his best. If something doesn't fit, let me know and we'll get you something else."
"Thank you."
"You need anything else tonight?"
She hesitates. "Will you be nearby? In case..."
"I'll be right down the hall. Room 312. Anything happens, anything at all, you call me." I pull out my phone. "Give me your number."
She recites it and I save it in my contacts.
"I'm turning my phone back on," she says quietly. "Just for a second. To see..."
"Don't respond to anything. Just look."
She nods and powers on her phone. Almost immediately it starts buzzing with notifications. I watch her face go pale as she scrolls through them.
"Fifty-three messages," she whispers. "Seventeen missed calls. They're all so angry."
"Block them."
"What?"
"Your ex. Your mother. Anyone who's telling you to go back. Block all of them."
