"Intercepted communications between the Reapers and their contact south of the border. They're using burner phones, but they're not as careful as they think they are." Condor pulls up another screen. "Here's the thing, they're expecting company."
"What kind of company?" Falcon's voice is tight. After everything that Cara went through he finds it hard to think about the women and children being sold.
"The buyers. Several of them are flying in specifically for this shipment. They want to inspect the merchandise before purchase." Condor's face is hard. "This is the kind of operation that could bring down their entire network if we play it right."
"Or get us all killed if we play it wrong," Hustler mutters.
"That's why we're not going in blind." Vulture looks around the table. "We're going to hit that warehouse, free those girls, and collect enough evidence to bury the Reapers and everyone connected to them."
"That's suicide," Rook says. "They'll have guards, probably armed. And if the buyers are there, they'll have private security too."
"Which is why we're calling in favors." Falcon nods to Condor, who pulls up another file. "Robert Samson has contacts in the FBI. Real ones, not the dirty cops on the Reapers' payroll. He's willing to coordinate with them if we can provide solid evidence and a clear path to prosecution."
"You want to involve the feds?" I can't keep the skepticism out of my voice.
"I want to make sure those girls get home and the people responsible face justice." Falcon's eyes are hard. "We can't do this alone. We're bikers, not a tactical assault team. But we can provide intel, we can create opportunities, and we can make sure the right people are in the right place at the right time."
The room's quiet as everyone processes this. Working with law enforcement goes against everything the club stands for. We handle our own problems, take care of our own people. Bringing in the feds is admitting we're out of our depth.
But Falcon's right. This is bigger than us.
"What about Ava?" I ask. "Her investigation, her evidence, that's what started all this. She deserves to be part of it."
"She will be. Her recordings, her documentation, that's what we'll use to convince the FBI this is worth their time." Vulture looks directly at me. "But she stays out of the actual operation. No arguments, Ice Pick. She's too valuable as a witness to risk in the field."
I want to argue, want to insist that Ava's tough enough to handle herself. But he's right. If something happens to her, if she gets hurt or worse, all her work means nothing.
"Understood," I say.
"Good. Now here's the plan." Falcon spreads out a map of the warehouse district. "The shipment arrives at midnight. Buyers show up an hour later. That gives us a window to position ourselves, get eyes on the location, and coordinate with the feds."
"What's our role?" Zip asks.
"Reconnaissance. We watch, we document, we make sure the feds have everything they need for a clean raid. We do not engage unless absolutely necessary." Falcon's tone makes it clear this isn't negotiable. "Our goal is to get those girls out safely and collect enough evidence to prosecute everyone involved." Clearly he’s taking the lead on this one. Vulture is watching over him, ready to jump in if necessary.
"And if the Reapers spot us?" Rook's question hangs in the air.
"Then we defend ourselves. But we do it smart. No unnecessary risks, no cowboy shit." Vulture looks around the table. "Everyone clear?"
A chorus of "aye" answers him.
"Good. Ice Pick, you're with me and Zip. Sterling, you coordinate with Robert and the FBI. Rook, you handle logistics, make sure our exits are clear. Condor, you monitor communications and give us real-time updates." He pauses. "And someone needs to stay here with Ava. Keep her safe and keep her from doing something stupid like trying to follow us."
"I'll do it," Hustler says, and everyone turns to look at him. "What? I'm good at babysitting."
"You're good at pissing people off," I correct. "But fine. Just don't let her talk you into anything."
"She's a journalist, not a magician." Hustler grins. "I think I can handle one stubborn woman."
"You haven't met Ava," I mutter.
Church breaks up with everyone moving to their assignments. I hang back, waiting until it's just me and Vulture.
"You got something to say, say it," I tell him.
"I heard you and Ava got close last night. The whole compound heard, actually." He doesn't look angry, just tired. "Tell me this isn't going to be a problem."
"It won't be."
