She slid out of bed, shirt riding up just enough to remind me I was still very much human.I caught myself watching her legs before she turned back.
“Eyes up, Kane.”
“Trying,” I muttered.“Failing.”
She shook her head and disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of the shower kicking on filling the quiet.I lay there for another second, chest warm, something like peace settling in deeper than it had any right to.
Couple.She’d said it yesterday without thinking, then gone pink and tried to backpedal.I’d liked how it sounded too much to let her.
Yeah.I could live with this.
* * *
The clubhouse was busy as usual when we walked in.Bacon hissed on the stove.Coffee steamed in mismatched mugs.Men moved through the space in different directions, some heading for the garage, others lingering at the table.Kids clustered near the low corner table, crayons scattered everywhere, laughter bouncing off the walls.
Casey flipped pancakes with a practiced hand, cursing when one landed half-off the spatula.Marci circled the room like a satellite in steady orbit, coffeepot extended, eyebrows raised in silent question at each cup she passed.In the corner, Solena hunched over a stack of receipts, calculator in one hand, her other twisting a strand of hair as she squinted at the numbers.
“Morning,” Marci greeted.“You seem more alert than usual.”
“Blame her,” I shot back.“She stole all the hot water.Nothing jolts you awake more than a cold shower.”
“Lies,” Jade countered.“I left you some.”
“A trickle isn’t some.”
“Protein first,” Marci cut in, sliding plates onto the table.“Argue later.”
We sat shoulder to shoulder.I poured Jade’s coffee before my own without thinking.Casey clocked it immediately.
“You’re domesticated,” she teased.“That happened fast.”
“Careful,” I warned.
Casey grinned.
Jade shoveled eggs into her mouth with purpose, a woman who hadn’t forgotten the importance of protein.I watched her eat and felt a knot beneath my sternum loosen.The past twenty-four hours had wrung her dry -- Victor Diaz’s bullshit offer, the hours spent helping Spade decode her brother’s chicken scratch.Now she sat beside me, solid and present.
Spade materialized in the doorway when I’d barely swallowed my first bite.“You alive?”he asked her.
“Mostly,” she replied.“You?”
“I’ll sleep when Roth and Diaz are cautionary tales.”He jerked his chin.“Office.Now.”
She glanced at me.“You good?”
I squeezed her knee.“Do your thing.”
She followed him down the hall, coffee in hand.
Atilla called Church ten minutes later.That meant the day was already moving faster than anyone liked.
The meeting room smelled like leather and old smoke.Atilla sat at the head of the table, expression carved from stone.General took the chair to his right.Spade set up his laptop, cables snaking toward the wall screen.
Knuckles dropped into a seat across from me.Rook slid in beside him.When the door shut, Atilla didn’t waste time.“Spade.”
The screen lit up with a map dotted in color.
“Jason’s notes confirmed more than we expected,” Spade explained.“Routes.Drop points.Fronts.Some are stale.Some aren’t.”
