“First and foremost, tonight’s job. Are we set?”
I looked to Fuse.
Dude was as fucking smart as they came, the scary kind of smart that verged on diabolical. He had a photographic memory. Permanently cataloging every face and name he encountered. Dates and times and details embedded in his wicked brain.
He lifted his trimmed, blond beard, blue eyes hard as he stared back at me. “Team is en route.”
We’d been getting intel coming in about constant deals taking place near a southern town in Oregon.
Guns and fentanyl.
Even though we were neck deep in the bullshit with Kent Ellison, we couldn’t turn a blind eye.
It was close enough that we could be in and out without notice, small enough that we only needed a handful of men to carry it out. But what we were stopping was atrocious enough that it was worth the expenditure.
Our duty always prevailed.
“Do you foresee any issues?” I asked.
Fuse was in charge of intel. In organizing every facet of every job. Piecing them together like a disordered puzzle that only made sense in his mind.
His hacking skills were almost as good as Cash’s, though directed at different things.
“No. This one should be cut and dry. In and out. Easy.”
But the impact would be astronomical.
“Good. Keep me apprised.”
His tongue swiped out to wet his dry lips. “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear it’s done.”
I dipped my head then pulled in a steeling breath, ready to dive into the larger matter at hand.
“You all know the girl is here.” I tried to keep my tone in check. Last thing I needed was a mention of Brinley rumbling out like possession.
“We might have noticed.” Tamping it was a failure since a smack of suggestion filled Trevan’s voice, all while he capped it with a question mark.
A razzing challenge lifting in his dark gaze.
Yeah, she’d made quite the impression last night.
A wildfire streaking through the night.
But that could be written off as expected.
What could absolutely not be written off?
Fact that I’d had her on the back of my bike when I’d taken her into town earlier today.
Assholes were going to make it something it wasn’t.
Something it couldn’t be.
“No question she made a bit of a stir when she tried to run last night.” I played it off like Trevan wasn’t referring to something else.
A bunch of speculative nods woven with muted amusement rolled through the Crows.
It’d been quite the scene.
