I couldn’t hold back any longer.

I’d known almost at once what I had to do. Once Mia was asleep, I slipped away and went to action. I’d had enough of the Carrion Crew. Something had to be done; no more of this tip-toeing bullshit; no more “someday”s; no more! I snatched my jacket, shrugging into the worn, familiar leather in a single, practiced sweep, and yanked my cell phone from my pocket. I had to see Danny. Immediately.

I tried to summon my inner-ninja or shadow or whatever it would take to get me through the condo and onto the elevator without waking Mia. She’d been through enough already, and I didn’t want to worry her. That was what I told myself, at least; I didn’t want to admit that I knew that what I really didn’t want was her seeing me like this. Crazy.

Crazy or not, the stealth I was praying for was delivered. I was through the elevator and heading for my chopper an instant later, my boots screaming on the hollow emptiness of the garage. I felt like I was moving in auto-pilot, and I was almost glad for it. It made me feel like I didn’t have to be held responsible for what I was prepared to do.

Though I’d been holding my phone almost the entire time—practically crushing it in my grip—I only just then dialed Danny.

“Jace?” he groaned, answering after only one ring. “Motherfucker! Ya got any idea what time it is?”

“Yeah,” I growled into the receiver. “Time to bust some Carrion skulls!”

“Oh?” Danny’s voice was alert and ready in an instant; while his tone was questioning he didn’t sound the least bit surprised. “What happened?”

I was on the chopper, setting Mia’s helmet down on its original space at my feet. “I’ll tell you,” I said, holding back on starting the engine, “but not like this. Meet me at the shop.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Danny said, past the point of sleep, concern, and fully immersed in business-mode.

I hung up and started the engine. Then I was off. I sped down the streets, glad to see that due to the time, the streets were mostly empty. The night air hit my face and I briefly closed my eyes against it, working to concentrate on what had to be done:

First: Mia’s friend. Candy. She’d be the first target the Crew would order a strike on when they couldn’t track down Mia. I had to find her before they did and take her back to my place.

Secondly: Mia’s mom. It shouldn’t be too difficult to track her whereabouts. I had a few favors owed to me back at the PD—a few detectives who were willing to provide information provided they weren’t implicated in anything too heavy. And what could possibly be heavy about wanting to send a friend’s mom some flowers? It was just an address, after all. Then I’d be able to get some boys headed out that way; couple of the young, reckless punks with their bat-outta-hell crotch rockets—the ones they insisted on keeping the needle rested at a steady one-fifty half the time—and with their fanciful whims of being action heroes. Yeah, they’d jump at a job like that in an instant, even if it did mean sitting around and doing nothing but eating fast food and chugging boxed coffee for a few days.

That’d only leave the Crew with Mia’s brother to take out their anger on, and wasn’t that just A-okay with me. My only real regret was that I wouldn’t have a chance to take a shot at him, as well.

Oh well. There was no shortage of faces for me to break.

Which brought me around to the third task on the list: find and finally take care of T-Built. This, however, was a task that, in and of itself, demanded its own list of steps.

First things first, I reminded myself as I ran a red light.

The sight of Mia from earlier, standing in the pouring rain in clothes that seemed just as eager to run as her, still haunted me, making me crazy. I saw her now on every street corner; crying and running, terrified, and caught in a downpour that seemed to follow her and only her. The rain had stopped—the streets still slick with the phantom moisture but the city otherwise over the storm—but every corner that I saw that ghostly image occupying seemed once more caught in a torrential downpour. I could practically hear the rain as I passed yet another mental replay of the scene; could almost feel it slapping me in the face.

I roared, screaming so loud I wondered if my chopper’s engine felt envy in that instant, and howled around the corner. I skidded, hydroplaning, and leaned into it at a nearly suicidal degree; letting the heel of my boot slip out and kick at the road as it came up to bite me. The chopper pitched, wavered, and I kicked out again, righting myself and the bike and getting the tires to find hold once more on the street.

“Not tonight, you bitch,” I scolded the bike. “Tonight you take me where I need to go. Tomorrow you can dump me, roll me, and come crashing down on me for all I care. But”—I cranked the accelerator, punishing the girl for fighting—“not tonight!”

The chopper screamed, but she seemed to be screaming with me in that instant. And why wouldn’t she? She’d seen Mia just as I had.

She had to be pissed, too.

I rode on, intent on beating Danny to the shop, but as I rounded another corner I came screeching to a halt—one of the only other cars on the road at that time honking and swerving around me as I planted myself at a dead-stop in the middle of the road. The driver screamed something through a slightly parted passenger window, and I thought I caught a glimpse of a finger pointed in my direction, but I didn’t care. I was too focused on the seedy motel sign glowing ahead of me.

Had I meant to drive here? I thought I was headed for the shop?

Before Mia had fallen asleep, she’d told me where all that ugly shit had gone down; where the asshole had taken her to…

To…

I pulled the chopper into the motel’s parking lot, parking it at the far side. No flashing reds and blues, no yellow tape, no nothing. A girl had run, screaming and bloody and nearly naked, through their lobby and nobody had even bothered to call the cops. I gave myself a mental note to torch this place so far into the ground that survivors would have to dig just to find the ashes.

Mia said she’d hurt the guy. Put a good hurt on him, too, from the sounds of it. I doubted she’d managed to kill him, though; something she was terrified had been the case. If the stabbing hadn’t been enough to put him down, then I doubted a kick to the chops was going to go and finish the job. He’d be hurting, no doubt—and good on her for putting him through that—but, far as I was concerned, he wasn’t hurting enough.

I started inside, hoping that he was at least hurting enough to keep his sick ass planted in the shit-nest he’d set himself up in for the night.

Gotta nurse those wounds, don’t you, shit-bird? I thought, strolling past the counter.

The guy behind the desk looked pale, nervous. I guessed he’d been the one to witness the scene earlier. I thought about putting a good hurt on him, too. Then I thought better of it. Last thing I needed was to give him a reason to finally get the fuzz rolling in. Not yet, at least.

The guy called after me as I started past him and down the hall. I’m sure he saw trouble when he saw me, and I’m sure he thought I’d be demanding a room number or something of that nature. Plenty of assholes took plenty of pieces of tail here; maybe I was an enraged husband who’d just discovered his wife was cuckolding him, or maybe I was a livid pimp coming to handle a wayward trick who’d tried to skip out on a payment. Who knew what he thought? And who cared?

Perk of a seedy motel? When it’s raining and you’re trying to track the source of a bleeding, scared victim, there’s likely to be a trail.

Because who has the time to clean a tile floor in the middle of the night?

The drops of blood were drying—little brown-red blobs that you’d almost think were candle wax if you were a complete fucking moron—and spattered in a serpentine path that led straight to a door.

It’d be locked. No doubt. Guys like this were cowards through-and-through. He’d want to have privacy to lick his wounds; he’d feel safe with the bolt set and the latch in place.

Too bad for him these shit-shacks are built of cheap wood and spit.

My boot landed squarely beside the knob, and the entire door folded at the center like a piece of paper being prepared for origami. I stared for a brief moment, stunned by the effect. Had I known the door was that cheap I would’ve saved myself the pulled calf muscle and just shouldered through. There was a startled squawk on the other side of the door—louder through the gaping crack that networked up the door—and this was enough to motivate me to finish the job.

A man with greasy hair and sunken eyes looked up from his spot on the bed. Half his face looked like a special-effects makeup test, purple and swollen; something viscous and not tear-like at all seemed to be oozing from his left eye, and I wondered with a delicious satisfaction if Mia had actually managed to leave the guy half-blind. There was a heap of once-bleach-white towels packed against his side, the gore-splotched rags telling me that he was having trouble stopping the bleeding.

The guy was stammering, his words garbled through his half-mouth; the other half more stretching than actually opening. I wasn’t sure if he was pleading, threatening, or ordering a hamburger. He moved to stand, the good side of his face grimacing as he did, and I realized he was heading for an impressive piece of kitchen cutlery on the nightstand.

“Bad night, I hear,” I called over to him. “‘Bout to get a lot worse. Though it’ll be substantially better in the long run if you don’t do what you’re thinking of doing.”

The guy paused, turning back to me with a skeptical look on his face. “You the whore’s pimp? I thought T—”

“DON’T YOU CALL HER THAT!” I roared, clearing the distance in an instant.

He was staggering and falling back before I’d even reached him, the stab wound impairing his reflexes and making his already sloppy effort to evade an all-out stumble. He toppled, caught the corner of the mattress with his right shoulder, and was bounced in a half-circle to his left. He thunked to the floor on his belly, and, judging from the hiss of pain, took most of the impact squarely on his bad side.

I actually caught myself cringing at the sound.

Then he was moving, heading once more for the nightstand and the knife waiting atop it, and I was on him. Knocking his outstretched hand away, I yanked him around, forcing him to face me.

“I hope you’re ready to learn,” I growled down at him, “because I’ve come to teach a lesson.”

Then, bringing the heel of one booted foot against his still-bleeding side and the toe of the other snugly between his legs, securing him below me where it’d hurt him most, I went to work on him.

I walked out of the room with the man’s bag of toys secured under my arm. There was muffled sobbing coming from behind me. I’d decided, after making him promise over a dozen times to never even look at a woman again, that he likely meant it. All the same, I didn’t see him reflecting on his testicles with any fondness for the next few months. Assuming, of course, I’d left him any testicles to reflect over. The pitch of his voice certainly a great deal higher. Heaving out a sigh of satisfaction and letting the numbing thrill of the moment start to wash away, I was suddenly very aware of a dull, throbbing pain in my right hand and, upon inspection, I discovered a broken piece of tooth embedded between the knuckles of my ring and pinky fingers. Sneering, I pulled it out and cast it aside.

Just another bit of mess for the morning crew to mop up, I suppose.

The guy at the front desk was (finally) on the phone with the cops. I guessed he’d heard the commotion and decided he couldn’t do nothing any longer. Walking up to the desk, his voice began to come out in a stammer.

“—coming at me! Oh god, he’s coming—”

I caught him in the jaw with my left fist, not wanting to put another tooth in my right. He collapsed in a heap, already crying and cupping his face in his hand. Satisfied, I tossed the bag of toys at the man’s feet and nodded towards it.

“When the cops get here, tell ‘em that’s what the guy over in seventeen used to attack that girl you ignored earlier tonight. You got it?” I said.

He whimpered and nodded.

“And try to have a good night,” I called over my shoulder as I headed out the door. “Change is in the air.”

“I’m hoping that ain’t yer blood,” Danny said, staring at me as I strolled into the shop.

“Not unless we’re talking about this boo-boo,” I mock-whimpered as I held up my right hand. This, I realized, offered no real indication of the small puncture between my knuckles—both of my hands were pretty thoroughly caked in blood. “Well, you’ll just have to take my word for the boo-boo, I guess.”

“So who was da’ lucky fella?” Danny asked with a smirk.

“Some prick who decided to take things too far with Mia,” I said, letting myself fall back into a worn-down sofa that Danny sometimes napped on.

Danny scoffed at that. “So this is a jealousy-thing? Some John slip a few too many fingers in your new squeeze and—”

“He nearly killed her, Merc,” I interrupted. “Had a bag of sex toys that looked more like torture devices. And a fucking knife. Not some little switch number, either; no, some fucking cleaver-like shit. Damn thing looked like it just came off the rack at a butcher’s shop.”

“Oh…” Danny nodded and settled in beside me. “Then, yeah, I’d say he took things too far. You leave any for me?”

I shrugged. “Probably not,” I admitted. “Mia stabbed him and turned half his face into hamburger meat. I left him with more teeth on the floor than in his head, a nutsack full of guacamole, and… and… shit, I can’t really remember now,” I laughed at that and shook my head. “But, short of wasting the guy I don’t think there’s much left you could do.”

“Fair enough,” Danny said with a disappointed frown. So, what’s going on?”

I nodded, glad to see things moving forward so quickly. I explained the situation—everything I needed and everything I planned to do. As I did, I tried to hold back the anger that wanted to find its way back. It oozed over me and I forced it away, knowing I needed to have a clear head for what came next.

“Okay…” Danny said with a sigh once I was finished. “Well, I can get in touch with Detective Bakeman, get an address for yer girl’s mom; probably best to send Andy and Cheesy on that one. They’re hotheads, but they’re not the type to be gettin’ crazy ‘less the need arises. An’ it sounds like ya got things with Mia’s buddy handled, right?”

I nodded, already planning to pick up Candy after we’d wrapped up our business here. “And then I’m gonna start hunting for T-Built,” I said.

“Well that might be easier than ya think,” Danny said with a smirk. “Word on the street is the trouser-stain’s gone an’ put himself in a bad kinda mood—‘crazed’ bein’ a better word for it.”

I looked over at that. “Huh? T-Built? But isn’t he supposed to be Mister Super-Elusive?”

“Normally, yeah,” Danny nodded, “but I guess it’s been a shitty month fer the Crew. Bein’ the crazy fucks they are, they’ve burned a few bridges they weren’t ready to burn—pissed off the wrong kinda people too early and sided with the right kinda people too late—an’, worst of all, they wasn’t prepared for the level of publicity they brought down on themselves. They’re stuck playin’ defense in the middle of an offensive strike, so the whole system’s gone an’ got itself stuck.”

“What’s that mean for T-Built?” I asked.

“If I had to guess: less funding, less support. The Crew’s got other things to focus on right now, an’ I don’t think T-Built’s the type of guy who likes not being the center of attention. Guy like him becomes the Crew’s heaviest earner, gets himself a bit of the celebrity status in their ranks, then finds everyone scramblin’ ‘round and shittin’ on themselves to keep from getting’ brought down. Suddenly nobody’s around to scratch under his chin an’ tell him he’s a good boy. Somethin’ like that’s bound to make a guy like that kinda tense. That, an’ I guess some Crew whores went and took a go at some of his stash. Killed themselves an’ took a few gees worth of shit into their veins ‘fore they did.”

“Boo-fucking-hoo,” I said with a scoff. “So what’s ‘crazed’ mean for us. And how are we hearing about it this soon?”

“Welp,” Danny smiled wide—a “who’s your main man”-kinda smile—and kicked up his heels. “It just so happens a certain somebody posted a lookout at yer lady’s corner. Y’know, keep an eye on her an’ make sure she was doin’ alright.”

I stared at him, awestruck. “Danny, you—”

“It’s ‘Mercury,’ kid, got it! An’ don’t go nuzzlin’ my balls or nothin’—I was just doin’ ya a solid ‘cuz I was happy to see you happy. Ya start bringin’ in the Lifetime shit an’ I’m gonna pop ya one. I don’t need ya goin’ faggy on me!”

I blinked, stared, and grinned, giving him an appreciative nod. “Okay. That’s fair. Consider me un-‘fagged.’” Then, thinking, my eyes widened. “Oh shit!” I cried out, standing. “If the lookout spotted T-Built at Mia’s corner earlier tonight then…”

Danny nodded, seeing where I was headed. “Then the Crew must’ve been notified about yer girl’s stunt and he was out there checkin’ it out.”

“Was Candy anywhere—”

Danny was already shaking his head. “My lookout said the corner was empty. Said that seemed to piss him off even more.”

I calmed, but only slightly. Frowning, I asked, “Why would T-Built be the one at the corner?”

“Dunno,” Danny shrugged. “Maybe he was the closest when the Crew got the call. Maybe the guy who roughed Mia up owes T-Built drug money, or maybe he has ties to the Crew and T-Built in other ways. Don’t suppose ya caught if he’s part of their crew, did ya?”

I shook my head.

“Hmm,” he hummed, shrugging again. “Who knows? But, like I said, he’s crazed. Been a real shit-storm raining down on him, so maybe he thought wasting a few whores who’ve been particularly naughty to the Crew would ease some tension; maybe he even thought it’d bring some of that old spotlight back on him. Or maybe he’s just a sick fuck. I dunno, Chase, point is he’s out there, crazy as a coked-up cat. Which means two things—one: while that Candy-girl’s still out there somewhere, she’s got a target on her ass an’ T-Built scopin’ for her; an’ two: it shouldn’t be impossible for ya to track him down.”

I cursed under my breath, stepping up the chopper on the side of the road and pulling out my cell. I hadn’t wanted it to come to this—hadn’t wanted to wake Mia or get her involved—but I didn’t have much choice left.

After parting ways with Danny, I’d gone straight to Mia and Candy’s building, parking a way’s up the street to avoid tipping off any Carrion Crew members who might’ve already beaten me to their place. Thankfully, things seemed quiet. But that could’ve just as easily meant I was already too late. Slipping through the doorway that she’d always come through, I found myself heading up a flight of stairs that ended in a shallow hallway with a few doors. I’d found myself stalled at this, unsure of which of the doors belonged to…

That smell!

I felt my nostrils flare and my face scrunched an instant later. Christ, that was acrid! Like someone had loosed a thousand cats to piss all over a bleach factory!

But, no, that wasn’t it…

I knew that smell. I couldn’t be sure from where, but I knew I knew that smell!

Then, remembering that I wasn’t there for whatever that was, I tried to remember if Mia had given any hint about which door was hers.

She hadn’t.

Resigning, I decided to get back to my bike and do what I promised myself I wouldn’t.

I called Mia.

“Jace?” she answered, frantic. “Jace, where are you? Are you—”

“I’m fine,” I assured her. “Really. I just… Mia, the Crew found out what happened. They’ve got people out looking for you and—”

“Oh god…” I heard Mia gasp. “Is Candy…?”

“Not that I know of,” I told her. “One of ours on the street said that she wasn’t at the corner. They think she figured out what was going on and split. I tried to check your place, but I couldn’t—”

“No,” Mia said, a glimmer of hope slipping into her voice. “No, she wouldn’t have gone back to the apartment if there was trouble. She knows that’d be the first place they’d check. No, she always said that if there was trouble we should meet behind Jack-Jack’s Candy Emporium.”

I paused at that, speechless. “The… the goddam candy shop?” I asked after a long moment.

Mia offered a nervous chuckle. “Yeah, I know. It seems silly, but… well, it’s her father’s store.”

I slipped onto the chopper. “Candy’s dad runs the candy store? Her dad’s Jack-Jack?”

“Well, I mean, I never asked his name, but, yeah, it’s his shop,” she said. “They had a falling out a few years back, but I guess she’s always sort of been thinking of him in some way or another.”

“I suppose she’d have to to have her father’s shop be your guys’ meeting place if the shit hit the fan,” I said.

“I suppose she’d have to to go so far as to call herself ‘Candy,’” Mia rebutted.

I thought about that for a moment. “Oh yeah…” I said with a chuckle. “Okay, so you think she’ll be there?”

“Y-yeah,” Mia said, sounding nervous again. “So long as she’s still… well, yeah. Yeah! She’ll be there!”

“Alright. I need you to sit tight, okay? I’ll be there as soon as I can with her,” I promised.

“Please be careful, Jace,” she said, nearly whispering it into the phone.

“‘Careful’ is my middle name,” I joked.

Mia scoffed and said, “Somehow I doubt that.”

“Okay, so before today my crew always said my middle name was ‘Crazy, Suicidal Fuck-Head,’ but, after tonight, my new middle name is officially ‘Careful,’ okay?” There was a long silence after that, and I worried that what I’d said might have upset her. “Mia?” I asked.

“Jace, I…” her voice strained and I heard her take in a sharp inhale. “I love you.”

My breath caught and I nearly fell off my bike. Finally, heart racing and palms beginning to sweat, I answered, “I love you, too.”

Then, feeling a new sense of purpose and, for the first time in a long time, feeling like the old Jace was back and better than ever, I started off towards Jack-Jack’s Candy Emporium.

“Candy?”

“SWEET FUCKING JESUS’ NUTSACK WART!” Candy shrieked, jumping nearly a mile out of her thigh-highs and spinning on me, fist raised and ready to take what looked like a knockout punch my way of Ronda Rousey proportions.

“Please don’t kill me,” I pleaded, working to guard my face and, immediately after, wondering if I should be guarding the jewels, too.

By some miracle, the raised fist was stayed and the hysterical hooker calmed.

Damn! I thought, That was some Buddhist-level self-control.

Candy, still panting from the scare I’d given upon tapping her shoulder, was still regarding me with suspicion. Hazel eyes studied me, checking the immediately obvious danger spots—my hands and under my arms and at my waist for any sign of a holstered weapon—and, not finding anything there, finally the rest of me. As she did, I had a chance to take note of her own appearance. Her cropped black hair was longer in the front and shortened out as it went back, giving her an exotic, almost Egyptian look. This, I figured, was supported by her tanned skin and curvier physique, which I realized quite quickly was almost all muscle.

More and more I was thankful she hadn’t taken that swing at me.

“The fuck are you?” she spat.

“I’m Jace,” I answered obediently.

She paused, seeming surprised to actually get an answer, and then narrowed her eyes as if she might suddenly recognize me. “Jace?” she repeated. “As in Jace-Jace? As in Mia’s…” her eyes widened and she gasped. “Oh god! OH GOD! Don’t tell me Mia’s… No. NO! I knew I shouldn’t have let her go off with that—”

“Whoa! WHOA! Shh, shh!” I worked to stop the growing hysterics before they could become a full-scale breakdown. “She’s fine. Mia’s okay. She’s back at my place. Safe. I promise.”

Candy’s body relaxed, seeming to collapse like a deflating balloon as all the tension seeped out of her at once. “Oh thank the lord,” she whimpered, shaking her head. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to that girl.”

I nodded, smiling at her dedication, and said, “Well, she thinks the same of you, too. That’s why I’m here.”

Candy looked up at that, confused. “Why… you’re here?” she said.

I nodded. “I’m here to take you back to my place, too.”

Candy blinked at that and took a step back. “This some sort of three-way shit you’re tryin’ to—”

“No.”

The sternness with which I said the word was enough to cut her off in mid-sentence and seemed to awaken her to the reality of what was happening. Tears were beginning to form in her eyes as her lips twitched, curling with what appeared to be a genuine strain; as if her face had actually forgotten how to smile.

“You… you mean I don’t have to…” she stammered.

“I’d actually prefer it if you didn’t,” I told her with a smirk. “I don’t know if Mia told you or not, but we’re sort of a thing.”

She laughed at that and nodded. “Yeah, actually. She’s been filling me in on a lot of the details. It’s sort of like a fairytale come to life if you ask me.”

I nodded back. “Yeah. Feels like one for me, too,” I confessed. “Come on. Let’s get back. I don’t want to leave Mia waiting much longer.”

Candy nodded and followed as I led her around the candy store to where I’d parked my chopper. “You have no idea how relieved I am to know Mia’s okay,” she said. “I was in the middle of suckin’ off a John in the alley when I heard our pimp coming—he was screaming his ass off on his phone; enough to let me hear him from all the way across the street. He was goin’ on-and-on ‘bout how he was gonna kill us; how Mia’s ‘little stunt’—whatever the fuck that meant—was the last straw and how he wasn’t gonna stop killin’ ‘til nobody was left to even remember there ever was a Mia Chobavich. I hear all that—hear him comin’ my way—and I think, ‘Candy, girl, if you don’t get your tight ass outta here NOW you’re not gonna have an ass to run off with.’ So that’s what I did,” she laughed and watched as I climbed onto my chopper, pausing to admire it. “No, sir,” she went on, finally beginning to move to get on, “when T-Built says he’s gonna get killin’, you don’t stick around to see if he means you.”

Every fiber of my body strained in an instant until it felt like I’d actually burst into flames. It was almost enough to knock both of us and the bike onto the side of the road.

“T-Built?” I said the name and felt bile rising in my throat. “T-Built… is yours and Mia’s pimp?”

I still couldn’t wrap my mind around it.

In hindsight it seemed so obvious. T-Built hadn’t been too far from where I’d bumped into Mia that first night, and it made sense that the man who’d basically spearheaded the Carrion Crew’s sex industry would directly work with their prostitutes. Looking back on it, the only reason I could come up with for not just assuming it was the case was my refusal to accept that Mia could have any sort of direct ties to someone like him. I wanted so badly to separate her from the Crew that it had just never occurred to me.

But now it was all out in the open.

“Are you… Are you mad?” Mia asked, her face filled with worry.

Candy stayed near to her, a look of protectiveness cemented to her features as she sidled closer to Mia in the back of the Mercedes I’d arranged to meet us back at my place. After Candy had mentioned T-Built, I’d set about another list of preparations. Mia was waiting by the time we got there, the car already idling in the garage near my parking space, and Danny would be waiting back at his shop.

“I’m sorry, Mia,” I offered with a sigh, realizing I’d spent nearly half-a-minute shrieking and slamming my fists on the steering wheel. I was pretty sure I’d said T-Built’s name a few times, and I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if the two had heard me say the word “condolences,” as well. Taking a deep breath, forcing my nerves to calm, I repeated. “I’m sorry. And… and, no, I’m not mad. Not at you, anyway; at myself, yeah—myself for being too dumb to figure it out. Fuck… of course fucking T-Built would be your…” but I wouldn’t let myself finish that sentence. T-Built was not her pimp, because Mia was no longer a prostitute.

“What’s your biz with T-Built anyway? You got some ties to the Carrion Crew or something?” Candy demanded. “What’s going on here, exactly?”

“He’s the leader of the Crows,” Mia said.

“WHAT! You didn’t tell me that!” Candy shook her head. “Girl… I dunno if I woulda given you the thumbs-up to follow through with this if I’d known that!”

“Yeah, my friend wasn’t too keen on the idea, either,” I grumbled. “You’ll be meeting him soon. You two can dish about how stupid the two of us are.”

“Stupid-nothin’,” Candy said, shaking her head. “Your cute biker-boy ass got us out of that nightmare. If Mia wasn’t already on that dick I’d probably offer you a freebie just as ‘thanks.’”

I saw Mia shoot her a look at that.

“What?” Candy protested, “I said I’d do it if you weren’t already! That’s your man, I know!”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Candy,” I said, “but you don’t have to go giving anyone ‘freebies,’ ‘cause you don’t have to be a prostitute anymore.”

“Oh…” Candy said, considering this. “Well, then I guess you should all start calling me ‘Nancy’ then.”

I nodded, sighed, and then said, “And, yes, I am the leader of the Crow Gang, but that’s not the only reason I’m after T-Built.”

“Huh?” Mia looked up, worry etched on her face.

“He… he killed my wife,” I finally said, letting the words be made real as I continued to drive, finding it easier to talk about the subject than I’d thought. “The Carrion Crew was just beginning to come into power, wanted to take out any threat from the Crows that might impede that rise, and my brother and I started to represent a pretty sizable threat. We’d executed a strike on T-Built’s earlier drug warehouses, just trying to keep that shit off the streets, and… well, he took it personal. Ordered a hit on my home; targeted my family. I wasn’t there, so my wife was a simple strike. She was…” I paused to clear my throat, “She was pregnant with our child at the time.”

“Oh, Jace…” Mia whimpered, sounding ready to cry.

“Fuck…” Candy—Nancy—gasped.

I looked back into the rearview mirror and saw the look of shock and sadness written on their faces.

“The photograph,” I heard Mia whisper, and I realized she must have seen one of the pictures I’d kept of me and Anne.

“Please don’t cry, Mia. It was hard, yes, but it was some time ago, and… well, you’ve helped me more than you know.”

Mia blushed at that and quickly looked down. I smiled warmly at her reaction before returning my gaze to the road. We were close to the shop and I was glad for it. I didn’t like that I had to make the confession this way, but I couldn’t see a better time and it needed to be said for what came next.

“So, what now?” Nancy asked.

“Like I said: I’ll send my second-in-command to pick up your things—just the essentials though; everything else I can replace,” I said.

Mia groaned. “Jace, I don’t want you buying—”

“Girl!” Nancy scolded, shooting her a glare, “Don’t you go turning down a good man’s gifts because you still can’t see the difference between that and takin’ a John’s dough.”

Mia’s jaw snapped shut and she looked down.

“Huh,” I mused, “I could’ve used you on our first date.”

“She make gift-buying a chore then, too?” Nancy asked, almost demanded.

I nodded. “Almost a chore, actually,” I admitted.

“Are Mom and Dad are done scolding me now,” Mia groaned.

I smiled at that and nodded. “We are. And you know we love you, babe,” I offered.

Mia blushed at that, seeming appeased by the words.

“Anyway, once you two have what you need and I’m confident that you’re both safe, then I’m going to work on tracking down T-Built and finally putting a stop to him.”

“And after you do,” Mia started, looking over at me, “will that mean the end of the Carrion Crew? Will all of this be over?”

I shook my head. “I wish it was that simple, but the truth is T-Built isn’t their leader. He’s one of their ranking members—certainly one of their biggest money-makers—but it won’t be enough to take them out.”

“Alright, well, we’ll do whatever we can to help,” Nancy smirked. “I want in on anything that had to do with taking T-Built and those Carrion-fucks down.”

“Me too,” Mia offered with a smile. “I mean, I don’t know what I can do to help, but I can at least try.”

I bit my lip at that and said, “What you both can do at this point is stay alive and not give T-Built or the rest of the Crew the satisfaction of either recapturing you or killing you,” I explained. “You two being off their radar will probably be enough to make them sloppy, and that’s going to be beneficial for us in the long run. Either way…” I sighed, pulling into the shop, “We’re here.”

Both Nancy and Mia stepped out of the car and I led them back to meet with Danny. My chopper was parked by the rear entrance and I smiled, glad to see that Danny had thought ahead to have whoever had brought the Mercedes to my place had done me the favor of using my motorcycle to get back. At least now I wouldn’t be stranded with nothing to drive but some four-wheeled monstrosity. Making it to the back office, I was greeted by Danny sitting at the desk, a few stacks of papers set out in front of him.

“Glad to see y’all made it here in one piece,” Danny said with a smile, standing and offering a bear paw hand for the two to shake. “I’m Danny, but everyone just calls me ‘Mercury.’”

“That ‘cause you’re so hot?” Nancy asked, reaching out to take his hand first.

Danny’s forehead creased with equal parts of concern and humor. “Uh… no. And I’m gay.”

“Oh,” Nancy said, nodding at that turn of events. “Because of course the next charming looker we come across wouldn’t like pussy.”

“Oh, I like pussy just fine,” Danny said, grinning, “always thought they were pretty, just like flowers. Georgia O’Keeffe’s shit was on point.”

“But you don’t eat pussy?” Nancy confirmed.

Danny shook his head. “No. Don’t eat flowers, either.”

“Well,” Nancy said with a heavy sigh. “It’s a pleasure, Mercury. I’m gonna go die of embarrassment now.”

“I might not be too far behind,” Danny said before smiling and nodding, taking Mia’s hand into his own and offering a delicate kiss at the juncture between her pointer finger and thumb. “And ya must be what all the fuss is about?” he offered.

Mia blushed and shrugged. “I suppose so,” she said meekly. “Sorry…”

Danny laughed and shook his head. “Don’t be, Miss,” he said between bellows, “it’s ‘cuz of ya that our boy there”—he nodded towards me—“has stopped being such a fuckin’ stick-in-the-butt.” Then, offering one more appreciative nod her way, he leveled his gaze at me and said, “Glad to see ya came out of the night intact.”

“Was there any concern?” I asked with a raised an eyebrow.

Danny shrugged, “Going on Carrion turf? Yeah, a little at least.”

I shrugged this off with a “Well, I’m here, aren’t I?” and moved behind the desk to sit down. “Will you still be able to stop by their place and pick up a few things, Merc?”

“Already said I would,” he said. “Should I be armed?”

“You said it yourself:” I shrugged, “‘Carrion turf.’”

“Good point,” he said, heading for the munitions closet.

“You know I wouldn’t ask you to do something I wasn’t willing to, right?” I called after him.

“Like I mind,” he called back. “I’ve been running jobs like this since yer old man was still callin’ the shots. Didn’t mind then; don’t mind now.”

“Glad to hear it,” I said, starting to set up a few maps we’d set up of the city’s infrastructure and known Carrion Crew activity points. “Any more word on the street about T-Built?”

“One of our boys called in to say he’d overheard a phone call. Said T-Built was talkin’ ‘bout holin’ up at a lab and to call in with any news about ‘the bitches,” he glanced back to offer an apologetic nod towards Mia and Nancy. “No offense,” he offered.

“None taken,” Nancy said with a dismissive shrug. “Motherfucker ain’t seen me at my bitchiest, anyway.”

“I’m sure it’s quite a sight,” Danny offered halfheartedly as he went about arming himself.

Looking up from the maps, I spotted Mia looking around the room, rubbing her palms against her opposite arms. “You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, just a little chilly,” she said with a nod.

I nodded back and stood, going about slipping out of my jacket and putting it over her.

She smiled her thanks, pulled the jacket tighter around her, and said, “I just feel a lot better just being away from that entire situation.”

“Well, you’ll never have to go back to that life,” I assured her, then, realizing that it wasn’t my place to decide such a thing, I added, “Provided you don’t want to, I mean.”

Mia giggled like it was the most obvious thing in the world—to her credit, it was—and shook her head. “No,” she said sternly, “never again.”

Nancy sighed at that and leaned back. “I won’t say that working for the Crew was ever a pleasure, but this has been the only life I’ve ever known. I… I don’t know, it feels weird to imagine doing something else. Like, what else could there be for me?”

“Lots of things, actually,” I offered with an encouraging smile. Then, remembering my father’s vision for the Crows and old dinners at the table with the rest of the family, I said, “Unless you’d be interested in getting back into this career the right way.”

Nancy cocked a brow at that. “There’s a ‘right way’ to hook now?”

I shrugged. “Well, the Crew most certainly does it the wrong way, and I’m not talking about that,” I offered. “But, not to get controversial here, it is one of the oldest human professions. Hell, prostitution practically built the Old West from nothing but sand and death. My old man worked with an old underground brothel, and it did quite well. Generated a lot of wealth that was recirculated into the economy, and the Crows ties allowed them to remain independent—pimp-free—and secure. I wouldn’t mind seeing that come back into play; it would present a direct affront to the sex trafficking the Crew has been working to establish, and if we take the money that would be going to them to keep that mess going then they’d have no choice but to shut it down. But…” I leaned forward, “I’d need somebody with the sense and savvy to run the place. Something like this can’t be Crow-run, otherwise we risk just having the same problem start up with us as it did with the Crew. That sound like something you’d be interested in?”

Nancy smirked. “So I’d be in charge of running my own brothel? Hmm… I do like the sound of that. Almost like a promotion!” she laughed and then added, “And it would mean I’d get to reprise my role as Candy: Whore Wonder.” She paused and locked her eyes on me, suddenly serious. “And the girls? They’d all have protection? Healthcare? Security? Good homes and regular meals?”

I smirked at her. “You do realize you’re just proving how right for the job you are, right?” I asked.

Nancy—Candy—grinned at that and nodded. “Alright,” she said, putting her fists on her hips and striking a pose. “Mistress Candy, at your service!”

As Mia and Candy shared a laugh at that, Danny emerged once more, a holstered forty-five hanging under his left arm.

“Aw’right,” he said with a grunt. “I’m off like a twink’s undies.”

I smirked at his choice of words but managed to say, “Be careful out there, Merc.”

“Bitch, look who ye’re talkin’ to,” he shot with a reassuring grin. Then, moments after heading out, I heard the roar of his Harley as it belched to life and started out.