Free Blood and Honor by Jayna Vixen

Mickey chose to wear most often because it turned them into a diner duo with rhyming fake names. “Shelley” and “Kelly.” Sometimes, she wore the other names. When she selected a nametag, she made up a little story to go along with the name. She was a million different people from one day to the next and it was a welcome break from who she really was.
    “Pearl” was a crotchety, chain-smoking old biddy who acted like she was doing customers a favor by taking their orders.
    “Jennifer” was a sorority girl who worked part-time at the diner to pay for school, popping her gum as she collected her tips.
    There were others…maybe six in all. Mickey had a personality for each of them.
    She estimated that she would be able to get to Rhee in another two weeks, but she wouldn’t have much more than the cost of her plane ticket. No matter. She was used to living on next to nothing. Her current situation was just a small reprieve from her daily life so the best thing to do was to avoid getting used to it. Expecting it.
    Expectations were dangerous.
    If only she had been able to make things work on the islands. When the police came poking around, trying to find her when the cartel shit went down in Darling, she used up her last few dollars to move again. And again. Until the expectation of staying in one place receded like the sun setting over the ocean.
    Mickey tried to keep the troublesome thoughts from reflecting on her face. Ruby directed her a gentle smile as she delivered table four’s burger order to the kitchen, and Mickey’s heart gave an unexpected twinge. She couldn’t stay here forever, but it was going to be hard as hell to leave.

Chapter Seventeen
    Alanna again?
    God fuckin’ dammit. The slut was going too far this time. Wince literally had his head in his hands after receiving Slade’s text message. Yeah, the girl had risked her life to try to get Sirena to safety—a fact that no one had forgotten. Alanna got her her pass for that. But now, she was milking her injury and her newfound status with Hawk, even though she had an obvious thing for Dax.
    So…what was the hangaround up to now?
    Dax’s pot deal and the new shipping orders made things a little crazy the first few months after Vidal went to ground. Securing the lines and managing the deliveries took up a lot of mental space. Alanna was out of the picture for a month or two. Then, she appeared one day on Hawk’s jock and nobody said shit. Maybe that was why she was flying under the radar, but that mistake had to be addressed.
    Now.
    Wince thought back to the first time he came across Alanna—three months ago when he and Dax first arrived on the island. They were at one of the touristy hotels and the groupie showed up with her little story. Implying that someone at the table was a rat—it was a dangerous charge to make. At the time, Wince figured Alanna for a resourceful kind of slut—just a groupie willing to go the extra mile to fuck herself to the top of the old lady pecking order.
    But, now he wasn’t so sure. Shit lately seemed off. It was enough to make Wince think he was the one who was losing it. Why had Hawk sent him on this latest recon mission, anyway? There was nothing to report on. Dax and Turtle had their operation down to a science. There were no holes—at least none that Wince could see. He liked the mile high club, but there wasn’t much reason for all of this flying back and forth.
    Maybe he’s trying to keep me out of the way? Wince quickly put the notion out of his head. Nah, that can’t be it. It’s Hawk. He’s my brother. My president.
    Wince wanted to stay put, to enjoy the slower pace here. But now, it looked like he was heading back to Darling, to pick Slade’s head.
    “It’s touchy — has to do with the martyr. In person only, brother.”
    The martyr. It’s what they called Alanna.
    The tugging at his hand was a welcome distraction.
    “Sorry, sweetie. Looks like Uncle Wince is heading back to the