Page 22 of Priest

“Where?”

“Edges,” he says. “Little shit. A question asked at a parts supplier. A patch spotted too close to one of our fuel stops. Nothing loud enough to call a move.”

I tap my fingers once against the desk. “Joker fishing.”

“Feels like it.”

I don’t say what I’m thinking. It feels too neat. Too contained. Like someone’s feeding crumbs instead of a meal.

Before I can follow the thought, there’s a knock at the door.

Sadie doesn’t wait for an answer.

She steps in like this office has become part of her routine, one hand resting low on her stomach. She’s dressed softer than usual, loose sweater and boots, hair pulled back. Vulnerable by design.

Ghost’s eyes flick to her, then back to me, annoyance clear on his face.

“I’ll catch you later,” he says, already moving. As he passes her, his shoulder brushes hers just enough to be intentional.

She pretends she doesn’t notice.

When the door closes, she gives me a small smile. “Am I interrupting?”

“You always are,” I say.

Her smile falters, then steadies. “My appointment’s in an hour.”

“Prospects can drive you.”

Her fingers tighten around the paper. “I thought you were taking me.”

“I said I’d make sure you got there.”

“You said you’d take care of us.” Her voice thins on the last word, and I hate how practiced it sounds. “I don’t want a prospect taking me to hear about the baby, Priest. I want someone there who knew Ace. Someone who actually understands what this means.”

I exhale through my nose. “Taking care of you and the baby means the club protects you. It means you have a roof, food, rides when you need them, and men watching your back. It does not mean I’m yours.”

Her face changes fast, soft hurt sliding into place like she keeps it folded in her pocket.

“I know I’m not yours,” she whispers. “You make that clear enough.”

“Sadie.”

“I’m scared.” She steps closer, the appointment slip trembling just enough for me to notice. “I know I shouldn’t be. I know you’re busy. But every time I go to one of these appointments, I think about how Ace should be there. I think about what happens if something is wrong and I’m alone with some prospect sitting in the truck who doesn’t even know me.”

My patience pulls tight.

She sees it and pushes anyway.

“Please,” she says. “Just this time. I won’t ask again.”

We both know that’s a lie.

I check the time. Everything lines up in a way I don’t like. My last client canceled. The afternoon is open, and Sadie knows it.

“Fine,” I say. “Truck.”

Relief settles over her face like she’s won something.