Page 79

My goal is to just be there for her.

Except I haven’t been.

Training, as always, is somewhat all-encompassing. Driving back and forth to L.A. affords me a better facility and opportunity to train, but it takes a lot of time. And I don’t want to stay up there because not only would it mean being away from Luna even more, it also makes it more difficult for me to stay on top of my responsibilities at work. Or check on Metal. Daniil, Grim, and I have started an unofficial schedule of keeping an eye on him when he’s out with the girls but it’s a thankless job.

He’s doing all the stereotypical things you would expect a guy that’s grieving to do—drinking, smoking, and getting into fights. He’s not doing the girls any favors when he scares away their customers, and they’ve gently complained to Silver.

There’s no good solution and even though technically this isn’t our responsibility, at the end of the day, he’s our friend. Metal was there when Allora was taken and didn’t hesitate to put himself in danger to get her back. Or to distribute street justice when we caught the guy.

We owe him one.

And it’s not like he chose for his girlfriend to be murdered.

We’re also fairly certain we’re right about that because since the club took over protection, there hasn’t been another incident. The only question now is how long they can keep it up.

My thoughts are a little chaotic while I’m out on my morning run. I normally run five miles three times a week, and that won’t change while I’m training for the fight. I have to have endurance in addition to fighting skills, which comes into play whether I’m in an actual UFC-style fight or my job as a bodyguard.

Having a dozen things on my mind makes the run go faster and by the time I’m back at headquarters and in the shower, I’m a little calmer. I’m driving up to L.A. tonight and I’m going to try to convince Luna to come with me. She’s taken on managing some details for Candy, and it seems like she’s enjoying being able to contribute. And maybe, if we’re together in the evening with no plans, we can talk about whatever’s bothering her.

“I found out something interesting about Candy,” she tells me when we’re on our way to L.A.

“Oh?” I glance over at her.

“She’s broke,” she says. “And I don’t mean, like, she has a lot of debt and whatever, even though that’s true, but she has barely anything in her checking account and nothing coming in. I don’t know how she’ll pay her bills this month.”

“Maybe Garth is helping her,” I suggest.

“He doesn’t have money either,” she says. “They’re both broke as fuck. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless they’re taking money from the charity to live on. I can’t find an account for that, though.”

“It’s probably in someone else’s name,” I say reasonably.

“Sure, but it’s supposed to be a special account, specifically for nonprofit events and organizations. I also couldn’t find any permits or paperwork that’s been filed in the City of Los Angeles for the event either.”

I look over at her again. “Honey, I know doing the right thing is part of who you are, but maybe we let them handle the logistics and we just focus on our part.”

“What if he runs this event and then disappears with the money?” she demands. “It’s supposed to be for cancer.”

“If he does something like that, then we would get involved. But he hasn’t done anything wrong yet. What are you really looking for?”

She’s quiet for a beat. “I don’t know. Something just feels…off.”

I reach across the console for her hand. “You’ve been going through a lot lately. And that’s not meant to sound condescending, just⁠—”

“But it does.” Her voice is flat and I can see her lips are pursed in annoyance.

That’s never good. The last thing I want to do is upset her even more.

So, I back pedal a little.

“You asked me to be patient with you,” I say carefully, “because you’ve been feeling hormonal and dealing with things that I don’t completely understand. I’m trying to respect that by offering a differing perspective. That’s all. If you don’t want me to push back, then I won’t.”

The silence in the car practically crackles between us.

I have no doubt she’s irritated, but I also know her well enough at this point to know she’s listening. Thinking with that big, beautiful brain of hers.