Page 103 of Priest

People noticed that.

Sadie had wanted Priest. Ledger and Lena had gone instead, and the tension in that exchange still hummed in the walls. Ghost filed it beside everything else he’d been watching lately, because Lena had been different. Closed off. Snappish. Sharp with Ledger in ways that didn’t fit the woman he knew. The other day, she’d snapped at Cage, and that stuck with him because Lena didn’t snap at her kid.

His jaw tightened slightly around the thought.

Maybe it was stress. Maybe it was marriage strain. Maybe it was something uglier wearing a familiar face. The need to look into it slid through his mind before he could stop it, quiet and practical. He wouldn’t do it for dirt. He wouldn’t do it because he distrusted Ledger. He’d do it because if something was wrong, Ledger would be the last man to see it coming when it involved his Old Lady.

Ghost saw things.

That was what they kept him for.

He’d never tell Ledger unless he found something worth saying. That was how you protected someone who spent his life protecting everyone else.

Tonight, though, his focus stayed on Sadie.

With her gone, the upstairs rooms were empty enough to matter. Timing mattered too. So did being seen nowhere near the women’s hallway. Ghost already moved along the edges of this club. Talked less. Watched more. Fit cleanly in some places and strangely in others, depending on who was looking. He had no interest in giving anyone fresh rumors to chew on.

He waited until a couple of prospects drifted toward the bar, then caught Jazzy’s attention with a subtle lift of his fingers.

She looked up.

Then she smiled too bright.

“Oh,” she said, already moving toward him, voice turning syrup-sweet. “Didn’t know you noticed me.”

Ghost stepped back before she could close the distance. He didn’t do it harshly. He made it clear. There was a difference.

“Not like that,” he said.

Disappointment flickered across her face before she smoothed it away. “Damn. Here I thought tonight was my lucky night.”

He met her eyes evenly, hating that he had to say the rest because it always came out colder than he meant it. “You know I don’t get with clubwhores. It’s not my thing. No offense. I’m just not about fuckin’ around. It’s not personal. I’m just not built for casual.”

Jazzy studied him differently after that. Less flirt. More calculation. Maybe even a little respect. “Alright,” she said. “So if this ain’t about fun, what is it about?”

“I need a favor,” he added quietly. “And I need someone who can keep a secret.”

That shifted her completely. The bright smile faded, and the woman underneath it stepped forward. “What kind of favor?”

“One that keeps me out of the rooms upstairs,” he said. “And keeps you from having to explain later why I was up there.”

She didn’t blink. “Talk.”

Ghost lowered his voice until it disappeared under the bar noise. “I don’t trust Sadie. Never have. I want listening devices in her room, and I don’t want anyone seeing me near it.”

Jazzy snorted softly. “You, me and half the women in this place. She walks around like she owns us.”

Ghost didn’t respond to that. He reached into his pocket and slid three tiny devices into his palm. They looked insignificant.

They weren’t.

“Under the dresser,” he said. “Bathroom, under the vanity ledge. One in the closet. Somewhere hidden. If she ducks in there to whisper, I want it.”

Jazzy leaned closer, interest sharpening. “You think she’s hiding something.”

“I know she is,” he said simply.

That wasn’t bravado. It was pattern recognition.