“Someone got this guy’s address?”
Riot huffs a quiet laugh under his breath.
Mason doesn’t laugh at all. He studies me for a second, the corners of his mouth flattening slightly like he’s deciding whether I’m serious or just angry.
Cole shifts beside me, resting one hand on the bar again. His expression hasn’t changed much, but there’s something heavier sitting behind his eyes now.
“That’s not how this works,” Mason says.
I tilt my head. “Really? Because it seems pretty straightforward to me. Guy breaks your stuff, you go have a conversation with him about it.”
Dagger snorts quietly.
“Trust me,” he says, “we’re already planning that conversation.”
Wayne groans behind the bar. “Please stop encouraging her.”
Mason glances at Wayne, then back at me.
“We’re not paying him,” he says. “That part you’ve got right.”
Something tight in my chest loosens just a little.
“But running straight at him, guns blazing isn’t the move either,” he continues. “Voss runs this like a business. He’s got guys, connections, and enough sense to stay just far enough away from the damage that nobody can pin it on him.”
Cole finally speaks up beside me.
“We’ll deal with him,” he says quietly.
I glance over at him. “How?”
He looks down at the note on the bar for a second before meeting my eyes again.
“Carefully.”
From the look on his face, that word doesn’t mean what it usually means.
NINE
GHOST
“So you just expect me tosit around on my ass waiting for you biker boys to handle business?” she says, arms folded tight across her chest. “Yeah, I don’t think so. Someone wrecked my bar. I want a piece of this prick.”
“My bar,” Wayne grouches.
She waves him off and stares at all of us.
Blade lets out a low chuckle from where he’s leaning against the wall. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “She’d fit right in with the rest of ’em.”
Rae shoots him a look. “Whatever that means…”
Before the conversation can spiral any further, I step forward and grab her arm. Not rough, but firm enough she knows I’m serious. “Come here,” I say.
She starts to protest, but I’m already steering her down the hallway toward the back door. The busted frame splinters under the morning light, but I keep going until we’re far enough away from the others that they can’t hear us.
She pulls her arm free and turns to face me.
“I need you to let me handle this,” I say.
