After Tate, I interview Shaw. The Sergeant-at-Arms settles into the chair with the same easy stillness. Fire investigator by profession, works at the shop when his schedule allows. A Marine, probably Force Recon based on the focused intensity.
As we're getting started, Axel walks past with tools. Shaw stops him with a look.
"Kutte."
Axel glances down at the prospect vest hanging slightly askew on his shoulders. "Shit. I mean?—"
"Fix it." Shaw's tone is flat, but not cruel. Teaching. "You wear it right or you don't wear it at all."
Axel straightens the vest immediately, squares his shoulders. "Yes, sir."
"And stop calling me sir. I work for a living." Shaw watches as Axel adjusts the vest properly, then nods. "Get back to work."
The exchange takes maybe seconds, but it tells me everything about the prospect dynamic. Harsh correction, the teaching kind. Standards being enforced, no room for sloppiness. Axel hustles back to his station without resentment, which means this is normal. This is expected.
Shaw returns his attention to me like nothing happened. "You were asking about unusual customers?"
I walk him through the same questions I asked Tate. His answers match on the basic facts but his perspective is different - he's not at the shop full-time, catches things when he's there between fire department shifts.
"The ghost orders," I say, pulling up the spreadsheet. "Do any of these timeframes stand out to you? Anything that seemed off when you were working at the shop?"
Shaw studies the list. "I'm not here every day - fire department is my primary job. But when I am here, I pay attention to shop flow. These completion dates..." His finger traces down the screen. "Some of these overlap with major builds I know we were focused on. Shop was running at capacity. Doesn't make sense we'd have bandwidth for this much additional custom work."
"But it's logged as complete."
"Yeah. It's logged as complete." Shaw's expression goes flat. "Which means someone's falsifying our records to make ghost orders look legitimate."
"Do you remember the customer Tate mentioned? The one asking detailed questions about shipping and logistics?"
Shaw thinks for a moment. "Yeah. I was at the shop that day, working on a build between shifts. Guy kept wandering around, watching people work. Asked a lot of questions about our processes. The kind of questions that seemed more about operations than about getting a custom bike built."
"What date was this?"
"Early October. Day after Nash's birthday party at the bar."
Same date Tate gave me. I check the visitor logs again. Still no record.
Through the office window, Cole's gaze finds mine. Holds for a beat before he returns to whatever he's working on. But I feel the echo of that look, the weight of it, like a physical touch. This is assessment. He's calculating exactly how much force would be required to neutralize a threat, and whether negotiation or elimination serves the mission better.
I force my attention back to Shaw. Professional. Focused. "Anyone else at the shop that day who might remember this customer?"
"Mike was working intake. He'd have interacted with the guy when he first came in."
After Shaw, I take a short break. I need coffee, need to process the pattern emerging from these interviews. I need to create some distance from the awareness that Cole's watching from his office, that I can feel his attention even when I'm not looking at him.
The break room is small but functional. Commercial coffee maker, mini fridge, table with mismatched chairs. Someone's left a box of donuts on the counter with a note scrawled in marker: "Nash's apology for the Vegas incident. We're still not talking about it."
I pour coffee into a mug that says "I void warranties" and turn to find Cole standing in the doorway. Blocking it. His presence fills the frame in a way that makes the exit feel conditional on his permission.
He doesn't say anything at first. Just watches me with that same focused intensity I've felt all morning. Delta Force operators don't make casual observations. Every detail gets cataloged, assessed, filed away for tactical use later. Right now I'm being read the same way he'd read terrain in hostile territory. Vulnerabilities identified. Weaknesses noted. Exploitation vectors calculated.
I should step back. Put distance between us. Assert professional boundaries.
I don't.
"Interviews going well?" he asks finally. His voice is level, but there's something underneath it. Something that doesn't need volume to convey authority.
"They're going." I take a sip of coffee. Strong and dark, the way people who work with their hands tend to make it. "Your Brothers are cooperative."
