There it is. The acknowledgment that she's done her homework. Knows I have a military background. Understands I'm not some civilian shop owner who'll roll over because a badge walks through the door.
She doesn't know the details. She might know or suspect Delta Force, but she can't know about the ops. The classified missions that taught me how to survive in places where mistakes are permanent. But she knows enough to recognize I'm not someone who scares easily.
"Most federal agents don't walk into motorcycle clubs alone without backup," I counter. "It shows either confidence or stupidity. Haven't decided which yet."
Her eyes narrow slightly. "I've walked into worse than a motorcycle shop in Oregon."
"I'm sure you have." I lean forward slightly. "But don't mistake professional courtesy for weakness. I'm cooperatingbecause it serves my interests. You push too hard in the wrong directions; you'll find out exactly where my cooperation ends."
The air between us goes taut. It's not quite a threat, not quite a promise.
Shelby stands. The movement is controlled. No fear, but acknowledgment that we've reached the limit of today's productive conversation.
"Someone's setting you up, or someone inside is dirty," she says, tucking her phone away. "Either way, I'll find out." She walks toward the door, then pauses. Looks back at me. "Thank you for the cooperation, Mr. Holloway. I'll be in touch." Then she's gone.
I wait until her car pulls out of the parking lot before pulling out my phone. Make sure she's not circling back. Make sure no one's watching.
Will answers on the second ring. "Yeah?"
"Need to call Church. Tonight. We've got problems."
"How bad?"
I look at the laptop showing ghost orders that could destroy everything we've built. At the one delivery address that points directly at The Forge.
"Bad enough that we need every Brother in the room when we figure out how to handle it."
Will's silent for a moment. He's processing. "Tonight. I'll make the calls."
The line goes dead.
I close the laptop and lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling of the shop I helped build. The legitimate business we created to give veterans purpose after the military was done with them.
Monroe's smart. Thorough. Dangerous in ways that have nothing to do with the badge she carries. She'll keep digging until she finds what she's looking for, whether it's there or not.
I still don't know if whoever set this up is inside the Brotherhood or outside it, but I'm going to find out. And when I do, they're going to wish they'd picked a different target.
4
COLE
Church convenes after closing. Every Brother is here. Will sits at the head of the table in the back room of the bar, President's position even though this is my show. I stand to his right, VP patch visible, authority clear.
The room smells like leather, motor oil, and the kind of tension that comes before decisions get made. Brothers settle into chairs around the scarred wooden table that's seen years of these meetings. Nash to my left, Tate across from me, Shaw next to him. Mike, Danny, and the rest of the Brothers fill out the remaining seats.
"We've got federal heat," I start without preamble. No point in softening it. "ATF served a search warrant yesterday. Agent Shelby Monroe. I ran her credentials last night—years with the bureau, spent years deep cover with the Devils MC in Nevada. She's good at her job, which means she's dangerous."
"What's she looking for?" Mike asks.
"Weapons trafficking. I spent last night tearing through our order system after she left. Found ghost orders—someone's been running them through us. Custom parts shipped to gun show locations, work logged as complete, but no actual bikes picked up." I pull up the spreadsheet on my laptop, turn it so everyonecan see. "Been going on for months. Sophisticated setup, integrated clean enough to pass normal operations. Multiple confirmed, at least half a dozen, probably more if I dig deeper."
Mike leans forward. "Who has access to create orders?"
"Anyone working intake and Danny for financial processing." I pause, let that sink in. "And potentially anyone who figured out how to get into our system. We've been sloppy with security protocols."
"So either someone inside is dirty, or someone outside compromised us." Will's tone is neutral, but I catch the edge underneath. President asking for clarity before making decisions.
"That's what we need to figure out." I close the laptop. "Monroe's coming back tomorrow to interview everyone. Standard investigative procedure. Same questions, compare answers, look for inconsistencies."
