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He doesn’t. “There’s a sure way to put yourself out there before her.”
Alright, I’m a little curious. “Which is?”
His grin is crooked. I know that shitty grin. “You can always fuck Kat while you’re spilling your feelings. She won’t be able to run.”
I pick up a handful of sand and throw it at the bastard before we both burst out in drunk laughter.
13
ARCHER
It’s alreadyclose to midnight when Droga and I drive through the southern gate to Ayana.
I’m drunk, yep, because I tease Droga in the worst way as we slowly ride up the main Ayana road. “Hey, do I need a bulletproof vest?”
“What?” He wrinkles his nose—he does that when he’s drunk.
“In case Callie is hiding somewhere around with a gun, ready to shoot me.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Droga snaps.
“She’s probably scouting the area with night vision goggles, looking for you, setting buildings on fire.”
Droga lets a quick burst of laughter escape and shakes his head. “I’m gonna punch you.”
I grin and slow down as we pass a group of scooters.
I see Raven on an ATV, approaching. I wave him down, taking in his bruised face, his gaze grimmer than usual in the light of the street lamps.
“Carnage?” I inquire as Droga pulls to a stop behind me.
Raven cracks his neck. “Got a couple of punches. Going to Doc’s, too lazy to do it myself.”
“You won?”
Raven doesn’t answer, and the fact I even asked means I’m quite drunk. Raven never loses, and Carnage cage fighting is his monthly thing. He’s not as tall or muscled as me, but his feistiness and precision in his moves makes him one of the most dangerous opponents. They keep upping the weight limit for his rivals at his own request, but there are very few who want to take their chances.
“I’ll catch you at Doc’s,” I say. “Need to talk.”
I’ve been meaning to talk to him for a while. It’s midnight, and I’m drunk but don’t want to go home yet. What I want is to storm into Kat’s, throw her on the bed and fuck her senseless. But I’ve been drunk too many times in my life and know that I should stay away from any emotional stuff if I don’t want to hurt people’s feelings.
“Droga, take the bike to your place,” I say when Raven takes off.
“Nah, I’m fine.”
“Seriously. Take Callie out for a ride. No one will appreciate this beast more than you. I gotta have a chat with Raven.”
I take off before Droga objects again.
When I come to the medical ward, Raven sits on the examination table in one of the rooms as he waits for a nurse. In the bright light of the small patient room, dressed all in black, he looks like a dark angel, and the bruise on his face gives his already sharp features an even deeper edge.
I fall into a chair and slump, exhaling loudly and rubbing my face, tired but unusually relaxed. I lazily study Raven, who sits with his face raised toward the ceiling, eyes closed, like he’s meditating.
Even after years of knowing him and working closely with him now, the guy is a fucking mystery to me. On the mainland, he used to be my connection to anything off-limits. Money can buy anything, but without a person who knows how to get it and who will keep his mouth shut, you are nothing. Raven wasn’t just a regular dealer, he was the dark web guy, mysterious, with plenty of rumors to make me cautious around him yet trust his connections.
He heard my conversation about the Spring Break on Zion before the Change.
“Take me with you,” he said, and I almost choked in surprise. The nerve. “I can be your mule. Anything you want—I bring it with me. I get caught—it’s my responsibility and jail time.” Not that private jets get searched. But he had balls.
