"Morning," I say, my voice rough with sleep.
"Morning." She doesn't pull away, which I take as a good sign. "Was that your phone?"
"Yeah, Vulture. Church in an hour. The Reapers are making moves."
That wakes her up completely. She sits up, the sheet pooling around her waist, and I have to force myself to focus on her face instead of her bare breasts. Last night wasn't enough. It might never be enough when it comes to her.
"What kind of moves?" she asks.
"Don't know yet, that's what church is for." I swing my legs out of bed, standing and stretching. "You need to stay in your room while we meet. No exceptions this time."
"Mason." She uses my real name like a weapon, and hearing it from her mouth does things to me. "If they're planning something that involves me, I deserve to know."
"And you will know. After church, I'll tell you everything. But right now, I need you to trust me and stay out of sight." I pull on my jeans, watching her process this. "Can you do that?"
She's quiet for a long moment, then nods. "Fine, but only because I know arguing right now won't get me anywhere."
"Smart woman." I lean down, catching her mouth in a kiss that's too brief. "Get dressed, go to your room, lock the door. I'll come find you as soon as we're done."
"Be careful."
"Always am."
It's a lie, and we both know it. But she doesn't call me on it, just watches as I finish getting dressed and put on my cut. When I'm fully armored in leather and attitude, I feel more like Ice Pick and less like the man who spent last night worshipping her body.
I leave her in my room with a final warning to lock up behind me, then head downstairs where brothers are already gatheringfor church. The tension's thick enough to cut, everyone's faces grim as they filter toward the basement.
Zip catches my arm as I pass. "Heard you had company last night. Walls aren't exactly soundproof."
"Mind your own business."
"It is my business when our Sergeant-at-Arms is fucking the civilian we're protecting. That's a complication we don't need." His scarred face is serious, none of his usual humor present. "You're in deep, brother. Deeper than you should be."
"I know what I'm doing."
"Do you? Because from where I'm standing, you're letting your dick make decisions your brain should be handling."
I step closer, using my size deliberately. "You got a problem with how I'm handling this situation, take it up with Vulture. Otherwise, back the fuck off."
He holds my stare for a beat, then nods once. "Just looking out for you, Ice Pick. That's what brothers do."
The anger drains out of me as quickly as it came. Zip's right to be concerned. Getting involved with Ava complicates everything, puts both her and the club at risk. But I can't seem to stop myself, can't seem to care about the consequences when I remember the way she felt in my arms.
"I appreciate it," I say, my voice lower. "But I've got this under control."
"Hope you're right." He claps me on the shoulder. "Come on. Vulture’s waiting."
We head down to the chapel, taking our seats around the table. Vulture and Falcon are already there, Condor is beside them with a laptop open. That's unusual. Condor rarely comes to church, he prefers to work remotely and keep his tech skills separate from club business.
When everyone's seated, Vulture calls the meeting to order with three sharp strikes of his gavel.
"We've got a situation," he starts without preamble. "Condor's been monitoring Reaper communications, and they're planning something big. Condor, fill them in."
Condor turns his laptop so we can see the screen. It's covered in text messages, encrypted but decoded by whatever software he's running. "The Reapers are moving a shipment tonight. A big one; twenty girls, ages fifteen to twenty-two, coming up from Louisiana. They're staging at the warehouse on Fifth Street before moving them to buyers."
My blood runs cold. Twenty girls. Twenty lives about to be destroyed.
"Where's the intel coming from?" Sterling asks, leaning forward.
