I park beside him and get out. He's leaning against the truck bed, arms crossed, watching me approach with that hunting assessment that makes my pulse jump even when I'm exhausted.
"What did you find?"
He pulls out his phone and brings up a file. "Background on Alan Kline. Not the public discharge records, the real story. Pulled from contacts who worked with him during deployment."
I lean in to read the screen as he scrolls through. Kline's military service reads like a horror show. Special Forces, deployed to multiple combat zones, allegations of war crimes that the Army buried to avoid public relations disasters. Torture during interrogations. Civilians killed in operations without authorization. Weapons trafficking while deployed, using military supply chains to move modified firearms to insurgent groups and criminal organizations.
"Devils MC connection," I say, spotting the reference buried in the intelligence reports. "He worked with them in Nevada. Used their distribution network after his discharge."
"Same network you infiltrated during your undercover assignment." Cole's watching my reaction. "Kline would have known about that investigation. Known you burned their operation, scattered their leadership. He's been operating in the shadows ever since, building new networks, using new fronts."
"Like the Brotherhood. He chose your shop specifically. Veteran-owned, established, trusted in the community. Perfect cover for running modified weapons through the gun show circuit.”
"And when your investigation started closing in, he escalated. Had a van commissioned with our branding, used it to frame us at the Portland shooting. Force ATF to arrest us, shut down the investigation before you follow the trail back to him."
He swipes to another image. Security footage from The Forge, timestamp showing the breach Cole mentioned. "He knows about The Forge."
"Broke in, photographed everything." Cole's jaw tightens. "You saw the message he left. Not just trying to frame us for gun trafficking. Trying to destroy us specifically. Make it look like we're running criminal operations out of a private BDSM club, destroy our legitimacy and credibility simultaneously."
This is bigger than I thought. More calculated. "He's playing a complex game. Frame the Brotherhood, use The Forge as insurance if the frame doesn't work, eliminate anyone who can connect him to the trafficking network. All while staying in the shadows, operating through dummy corporations and stolen identities."
"And he's escalating to murder." Cole swipes to another image. The Portland vendor, dead at the scene. "Killed his own distributor to tie up loose ends. Took out the two buyers at the same time—anyone who could connect him to the trafficking network. Won't hesitate to eliminate anyone else who threatens his operation."
We stand in silence, processing. This isn't just about stopping weapons trafficking anymore. This is about preventing a calculated operator with military training and no moral boundaries from destroying innocent people while building his criminal empire.
"I bought you time," I say finally. "Convinced my SAC to give me forty-eight hours before issuing arrest warrants. But I need evidence that proves the Brotherhood is innocent. Something concrete I can take to Bureau leadership."
"And I need to find Kline before he makes his next move." Cole's expression goes cold, empty—a Delta Force operative calculating an elimination. "Brotherhood has resources ATFdoesn't. Contacts in veteran networks, understanding of how spec ops personnel think and move. We find him, we end this."
The way he says "end this" is final. He's not talking about arrest. Not legal process. An end.
"You're talking about working outside the law."
"You're already violating regulations by meeting me here. By withholding information about The Forge. By letting me put my hands on you during an active investigation." He says it direct, factual. No judgment, just tactical assessment. "Question is whether you're committed enough to see this through. Whether you can handle what happens when the legal options run out."
I can. I've already made that choice, already crossed lines I can't uncross. Might as well commit completely.
"Work together unofficially," I say. "I'll follow the financial trail, track Kline's shell companies and accounts. You use Brotherhood resources to locate him physically. We share information, coordinate strategy, stay ahead of whatever he's planning next."
Cole nods once, sharp and decisive. Then his hand comes up, fingers closing on my jaw. Not gentle. Possessive. The grip firm enough to make the claim clear. "You need sleep."
The shift from tactical planning to ownership catches me off-guard, but I don't pull away. I can't. Exhaustion wins over better judgment.
"I'm scared," I admit. The words escape before I can stop them. "Not of the case. Not of Kline. Of how far I'm willing to go for this. For you."
"Then you're starting to understand what I already know." His voice drops, cold and certain. "There's no going back from the choices you've made. You picked a side. Now you deal with what that means."
"And what does it mean?"
"Means you're mine to protect. Mine to use in this investigation. Mine to keep when it's over." His thumb traces my jawline, the touch at odds with the possession in his words. "I don't share. Don't compromise. Don't let go. You need to decide if you can handle that before this goes any further."
The possessiveness should bother me. It doesn't. This is honest. No pretending it's just professional cooperation. No games.
I kiss him. Answer without words because I don't have the right ones yet. Just the certainty that I've already made this choice, already crossed lines I can't uncross.
He takes control of the kiss immediately, one hand fisting in my hair, the other pulling me against him hard enough that I feel every inch of the threat he represents. It's not gentle. Not comforting. It's claiming and demanding and exactly what I need after hours of bureaucratic politics and investigative dead ends.
When we break apart, I'm breathless and more grounded than I've felt since leaving The Forge.
