The final entry stopped me cold.
I read it again, and a watery laugh slipped out even as tears stung my eyes. It was from the same day he’d had his stroke.
He’d been putting the pieces together, but he hadn’t known the barn was being used after he left. I closed the notebook carefully and pressed it against my chest, filled with a mixtureof grief and pride. It felt like he’d left me an unfinished task I needed to complete.
Determination coursing through my veins, I got up, raced into the kitchen, and slipped on my boots. With the notebook tucked carefully under my arm, I stepped outside and went in search of one of the prospects Brogan had left behind.
Luckily, I didn’t need to go far. “I need a ride to the clubhouse. Can you take me?”
He straightened immediately. “Yes, ma’am.”
Handing him the keys to my SUV, I let him drive. When we pulled through the gates, I asked him to help me find Brogan. He led me into the clubhouse and straight to a large meeting room where Brogan stood at the head of a long table with Hawkeye, Ghost, and Cipher.
All four men looked up when I walked in.
Brogan’s gaze moved over me, taking in my red-rimmed eyes. “What’s wrong?”
I stepped closer and set the notebook on the table in front of him. “I found this in a hidden compartment in Grandpa’s desk. It’s his ranch log. There’s some stuff in here about what Wade Kessler is up to that you need to see.”
“Something that made you cry?” he asked, tugging me against his side.
“Only because I really miss him,” I whispered.
After getting me settled onto the chair next to him, Brogan opened the notebook and flipped through the pages, his expression darkening. When he reached the final entry, his jaw flexed. “He should’ve called me.”
Hawkeye leaned in, read the last page over Brogan’s shoulder, and let out a dry chuckle. “Looks like Otis was more worried about what you’d do once he called than he was about the thieves.”
Brogan’s mouth twitched despite the irritation still in his eyes. He read the line again about my grandpa not wanting to give Brogan a reason to do something illegal, then muttered, “Stubborn old man knew me too well.”
Ghost snorted. Cipher just shook his head, already scanning the earlier pages with interest.
I took a breath. “I want to help finish what he started. Gather the rest of the proof.”
Brogan’s gaze snapped up to mine. “No. You’re not investigating Wade’s crew. The club will handle this.”
I held his stare for a moment, then nodded. I wasn’t foolish enough to pretend I had the resources or manpower they did. “Okay, but I have one condition.”
His brow lifted slightly.
“You keep me informed. No hiding developments from me just because you think it’s safer that way.”
Brogan dipped his chin. “I’ll keep you in the loop.”
Our agreement was struck. He would keep me safe. And I would trust him to do it without shutting me out.
14
STRYKER
Otis’s ranch log sat in the middle of the conference table when church started Friday morning, its worn leather cover looking out of place among coffee mugs, phones, and the weapons every man in the room carried without thinking about them. The pages held years of ordinary ranch details before the entries changed making it obvious that Otis had begun recognizing a pattern even if he hadn’t known what it meant yet.
His final note about not calling me so he wasn’t the reason I did something else illegal and risked my freedom had already earned enough comments from my brothers to annoy the fuck out of me, so when Ghost opened his mouth while studying the page, I cut him off with a look.
A couple of low chuckles moved around the table before the discussion shifted back to the reason I’d called them in. Cipher had already entered the dates and partial plates into his system, Bishop was checking the properties Otis mentioned against Rook Holdings records and county parcels, and Judge had marked every entry that might support a warrant if we could connect the observations to something stronger. None of it proved Wade Kessler ordered a theft, moved a stolen machine,or knew his crew had used Otis’s barn, but the notebook gave us places to look and people to question without announcing exactly what we knew.
I kept the rest of church brief. No one needed me to reiterate their duties like they’d forgotten how to do their jobs overnight. We reviewed what had come in, eliminated a few dead ends, and agreed that Wade’s legitimate business gave his trucks an excuse to be nearly everywhere stolen equipment had disappeared. The pattern was there, but patterns didn’t put a man in prison, and they sure as fuck didn’t justify the kind of justice I intended if he threatened Jacqueline again.
When the discussion wound down, Hawkeye closed the file in front of him and rested both forearms on the table. His pale gaze moved around the room before settling on me, and the other brothers quieted because they knew he wasn’t speaking as vice president so much as the man who had stood at my shoulder for half my life. “You know we’ve got your back. But this isn’t only about the compound or Wade running stolen iron through our territory.”
