Page 31 of Wings (Heavy Kings MC #5)

Custom Harley, chrome pipes that probably cost more than my car, red serpent wrapped around the tank. And next to the bike, Connor. The Serpent from the restaurant, the one whose presence had made my skin crawl with remembered fear.

I didn't freeze. Didn't gasp or grab for Gabe. Instead, clarity descended like a cold sheet of glass. He was watching us. Had probably been watching the whole time, cataloging our moves just like we'd cataloged the supplies.

My feet kept moving toward my car, steady and unhurried. I didn't look directly at the bike again, didn't give any sign I'd noticed. But my mind was already working, filing details. Location, angle of observation, how long he might have been there.

Behind me, I heard Gabe's bike roar to life. He hadn't seen Connor—the angle was wrong from where he stood. And I couldn't signal him without tipping our hand.

So I got in my car, started the engine, and drove away like nothing was wrong. Just a nurse heading home after a long shift. Nothing to see here.

But my hands were white-knuckled on the wheel, and my mind was already racing ahead. Gabe needed to know. Duke needed to know. The Serpents watching our supply runs changed everything.

The clarity was strange, almost disconnecting. No panic, no desperate need to flee. Just cold assessment of threat and response. Maybe this was what Gabe felt in combat—that crystalline focus that pushed emotion aside for pure tactical thought.

I drove carefully back to the hospital, already knowing what I had to do. Park in the same spot, walk back inside like I'd forgotten something. Establish alibi, create distance from the drop, then find a way to contact Gabe without raising suspicion.

The fear would come later. Right now, there was only the mission: protect the club, protect the man I loved, protect the life we were building together.

Day shift was in full swing now, nobody questioning why the night nurse had returned—forgotten phone, left-behind wallet, happened all the time.

"Forget something?" Marcy called from the nurses' station, not even looking up from her charts.

"My brain, apparently." I forced a laugh, heading toward the break room. Normal banter, normal movements, while my mind screamed with the need to call Gabe immediately.

Old instincts warred with new trust as I navigated the familiar hallways. Three years with Alex had taught me to handle threats alone. Keep quiet, don't make waves, deal with whatever came because telling only made things worse.

But I felt different now.

My phone felt heavy in my pocket as I ducked into the supply closet—the one place guaranteed to be private during shift change. Shelves of linens surrounded me, the smell of industrial detergent sharp in my nose.

My hands shook only slightly as I pulled out my phone.

I was doing the right thing.

He answered on the second ring. "Kiara?"

I could hear the concern in his voice. He knew I wouldn't call during work unless something was wrong.

"Daddy, we were being watched." The words tumbled out before I could second-guess them. "In the park. It was Connor. The serpent from the other day."

Silence for two heartbeats. I could almost see him shifting into tactical mode, emotion locked down while he processed the threat. "Tell me everything."

So I did. Every detail I'd cataloged, every observation filed away. The exact location of Connor and his bike, the angle of surveillance, how long he might have been there. I gave it to him like a mission report, clean and precise.

"You're sure it was Connor?" No doubt in his voice, just confirmation.

"Yep,. Certain." My voice stayed steady, clinical. "He was positioned to see the whole transfer."

Another pause. I could hear him breathing, controlled and even. Then: "Good girl."

There was non fear, no anger, and no disappointment that I'd somehow failed. Just pure approval, wrapped in those two simple words.

"Thank you for telling me." His voice roughened with emotion he couldn't quite hide. "You did perfectly, baby girl. Absolutely perfect."

Tears pricked my eyes. It felt so damn good to be honest.

"I almost didn't," I admitted, needing him to know the war I'd fought. "Old habits, you know? That voice that says to keep quiet, don't make problems."

"But you did. It’s okay to have doubts." Pride saturated every word. "You trusted me with it. Do you know what that means to me? That you'd push past those old patterns and choose to let me handle this?"

I pressed my free hand to my mouth, holding back a sob that was equal parts relief and overwhelming emotion. This was what real partnership felt like. Not handling everything alone, not being blamed for bringing problems, but sharing the weight and being praised for the trust.

"When you're done at work," he continued, voice shifting to planning mode, "we'll talk to Duke."

"We?" The word slipped out, surprised.

"You spotted the threat. You get to report it." No hesitation. "We’ll handle it together."

"Okay," I managed. "My shift ends at three."

"I'll pick you up. We'll go straight to Duke." A pause, then softer: "I'm proud of you, Kiara. So fucking proud."

The praise washed over me like warm water. Every time Alex had called me stupid for speaking up, every time I'd swallowed fear rather than cause problems—Gabe's pride healed those wounds with surgical precision.

"I love you," I whispered, not caring that I was hiding in a supply closet like some teenager with a crush.

"Love you too, baby girl. Now go finish your shift. Stay alert but don't act different. We don't want Connor knowing he's been made."

"Yes, Daddy."

"That's my good girl."

The line went dead, but the warmth of his approval lingered. I tucked my phone away, straightened my scrubs, and headed back to the floor. Seven more hours of normal, of pretending nothing had changed.

"There you are!" Marcy waved me over. "Can you cover trauma three? Multi-vehicle accident coming in."

"On it." I grabbed gloves from the box, slipping into the familiar rhythm of emergency medicine.

But underneath the professional competence, a new certainty thrummed through my veins. I wasn't alone anymore. Whatever the Serpents were planning, whatever threat Connor represented, I had backup.

Gabe's motorcycle idled at the hospital's employee exit right on time, black and imposing against the afternoon glare. I'd changed out of my scrubs, but exhaustion from the extended shift clung to my bones like fog.

He was out and helping me with the helmet before I reached the curb. Not flashy, not making a show of it, just there. Solid and real and exactly what I needed after seven hours of pretending everything was normal.

"How you holding up?" His hand found the small of my back as I climbed on, steadying me. He took his place in front.

"Tired." I settled in behind him, letting my head fall back. "But okay. No more Connor sightings."

"Good."

The drive to Duke's office was quiet. Not uncomfortable—Gabe didn't do nervous chatter—but weighted with what was coming. My stomach churned with a mix of exhaustion and anxiety.

We headed up to Duke's office. The Heavy King’s Prez was there, standing behind his imposing desk.

Thor already occupied one of the chairs, taking up space like he was trying to intimidate the furniture into submission. His scarred face shifted into something almost like concern when he saw me.

"Kiara." Duke's greeting was neutral, those calculating eyes taking in everything—my exhaustion, Gabe's protective hovering, the way I didn't shrink from the attention. "Heard you had an interesting morning."

Gabe's hand found my elbow, guiding me to a chair right beside his.

He looked at me, and there was such trust in his eyes it made my chest tight. "Tell them what you told me."

Not "let me explain" or "here's what happened." He was putting me forward, letting me own my intel. It felt momentous.

I straightened in the chair, finding my voice. "I saw Connor—one of the Serpents—watching our supply transfer this morning. His bike was positioned across Riverside Park with clear sightlines to us."

Duke leaned back, fingers steepled. "You're certain?"

"Positive." I met his gaze steadily. "It was the same guy who approached me."

"He what?" Thor's voice dropped to something dangerous.

I glanced at Gabe, who nodded encouragement. Right. They needed the full picture. "Last week at Rosario's. He was watching us eat."

Thor grunted approval while Duke absorbed this information. Neither of them looked at me like I was hysterical or overreacting. They took my words as seriously as they'd take any brother's intel.

"How long was he there? At the park?" Duke asked.

"Unclear. He was already in position when we arrived at eight." I thought back, pulling up details. "But the park opens at dawn. He could have been waiting."

"Or followed one of you." Thor's contribution made my blood chill.

"No." Gabe's certainty was absolute. "I ran SDR—surveillance detection routes. No tail."

"Then he knew about the location change." Duke's expression darkened. "Either they're watching more carefully than we thought, or—"

"Or someone's talking," Thor finished.

Silence descended, heavy with implication. A leak meant someone inside was feeding information to the Serpents. The thought made my skin crawl.

"What else did you notice?" Duke focused on me again. "Anything unusual about his position, his behavior?"

I closed my eyes, pulling up the memory with the clarity that fear brings. "He wasn't trying to hide. The bike was in plain sight, almost like . . ." I paused, working through the logic. "Like he wanted us to know he was watching."

"Intimidation." Gabe's jaw tightened. "Letting us know they're aware of our operations."

"Which means this wasn't random surveillance," Duke concluded. "This was a message."