Page 104 of Priest

She scooped the devices from his palm and curled her fingers around them. Ghost held her gaze for another second, making sure she understood the weight of what she was holding.

“Snoop while you’re in there,” he warned. “Light touch. Disturb as little as possible. If she suspects, we lose the advantage.”

“You think she’s makin’ calls.”

“I think she’s planning something,” he answered. “And I’d rather know what before it bites us.”

Jazzy leaned in closer, voice dropping. “You worried about the club? Or someone specific?”

Ghost held her gaze. “The club is someone specific.”

That seemed to settle something in her.

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll do it. I know how to snoop without leaving fingerprints.”

She nodded once, then walked away like she was headed for a smoke break.

Ghost stayed exactly where he was.

Waiting was the part he was good at. Twenty minutes stretched long and slow, but he didn’t look toward the stairs. He didn’t shift in his seat. His fingers rested loosely around the glass, his pulse steady enough to fool anyone watching from a distance.

Inside, there was always that quiet hum.

He hated being underestimated. Hated the way the men sometimes circled him like he might shatter if handled wrong. They didn’t mean it cruelly. He knew that. It was protective, and knowing didn’t keep it from burning.

They took care of him.

So he took care of them back.

Quietly. Without applause. From the dark, where he worked best.

Jazzy returned and slid onto the stool beside him like she hadn’t just crossed a line on purpose. “Done,” she whispered. “All three.”

“And?”

“I snooped.” She hesitated, then glanced toward the noise of the room before looking back at him. “Didn’t find much. Clothes. Makeup. Nothing interesting.”

Ghost waited.

“There was a flip phone,” she added. “Old kind. You know? The kind with no apps or internet? Stuffed behind her underwear in the dresser. Looked like she keeps it charged.”

Ghost’s fingers tightened just slightly around his glass.

A flip phone.

He’d only ever seen Sadie with a brand-new iPhone glued to her hand. Selfies. Texts. Posts. Always visible.

Visible mattered.

A flip phone was for conversations someone wanted tucked away from the world.

“You touch it?”

“No,” she said quickly. “I’m not stupid.”

“Good.”

She studied him. “You think she’s talkin’ to someone outside the club.”