Page 14 of Falcon

“Give Falcon a pat on the back. Kid did right, fuckin’ disrespectful bastards. Thief is blowing up my phone, demanding restitution. I’ll tell him he owes you that and to stay the fuck out of Rage MC territory. Keep their colours until Thief makes amends. And Thief can deal with you. I ain’t playing fuckin’ intermediary.”

“Planned to do that anyway.”

Drake took a breath. “You need backup?”

“No. We can handle ourselves.”

“Calamity, ain’t no shame—”

“National President, we’ve got this handled,” I promised.

Drake subsided, and I knew he was chewing it over.

“Body?” his mind latched onto what I first said. I told him everything, which wasn’t much, and Drake again became quiet.

“There were only a few houses when we purchased the land.”

“Yeah, and they’d been empty,” I replied. “They’ve been torn down.”

“One sec.” Drake fell silent, and I heard tapping. Drake made a disgruntled noise. “What I was considering doesn’t work out.”

“What was that?”

“Maybe the lake and waterways were being used as smuggling routes. Still, that doesn’t pan out,” Drake commented.

“Good idea, though,” I said.

“Throat slit and a bullet, that’s a message.”

“Yeah, but to whom?” I asked.

“That’s what you need to investigate. Keep me informed, and Thief is all yours to handle. Don’t forget that we’re in your corner.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep you updated.”

Drake cut the call, and I turned around, eyeing the water. Drake might have been onto something, except there was no direct route to the ocean. Still, something about the idea settled.

Falcon

Gossip ran Ortonville. I swore it did.

On Monday, as I walked to the tattoo shop, I caught stares following me. People whispered behind their hands, and I rolled my eyes. Small towns, Jesus. Stubbornly ignoring the gossip, I kept walking and swung into Inked in Rage.

Ghost looked up from where he was preparing his station.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah. You had any crap to deal with?”

“None, Veep. Had a few nosy fucks but nobody’s said shit.”

“Tell me if they do,” I ordered, removing my cut and tee.

A soft, indrawn breath came from a client being tattooed by Lucius, an artist Ghost had hired. Guess he’d hit a sensitive spot. He was good, but only Ghost inked my skin. Ghost pressed the transfer down on my shoulder and showed me in the mirror how it looked.

“Great,” I enthused and meant it. Ghost had hand-drawn a skull with thorns. Woven amongst them was Nova’s name. My twin would be the only woman’s name ever tattooed on me. I settled in and shot the shit with Ghost for the next couple of hours.

Calamity