Page 10 of My Older Biker

"Minimum necessary force to complete the objective." Translation: we're not torturing anyone, but we're not taking prisoners either.

I nod.

"Anything else?"

The room is quiet.

"Alright. Noon briefing. We leave at ten tonight. Dismissed."

Chairs scrape. Brothers stand and drift toward the bar. I stay at the table. So does Roan.

When everyone else clears out he looks at me. "You good to lead this?"

"Yeah."

"Perry was your friend."

"That's why I'm good to lead it."

He studies me for a long moment. "Zoe staying at your place?"

"Yeah."

"She give you trouble about it?"

"Some. She thinks you're hovering."

"I am hovering. Marrow was three blocks from her apartment." His jaw tightens. "She say anything else?"

I think about Zoe's hands on my chest this morning. The way she looked at me in my kitchen. The kiss I gave her before I left.

"No," I lie.

Roan holds my eyes like he's looking for something. Then he nods and stands. "Keep her there until we know Marrow's done. I'll feel better knowing she's with someone who'll watch her."

"She's safe," I say.

He leaves.

I sit at the table alone for a few minutes. Perry's empty chair is visible from where I'm sitting. He sat there for eight years. Quiet, steady, never caused problems. Never asked for more than he gave.

Now he's in the morgue and we're planning how many of Marrow we're going to kill to answer it.

The day drags. Noon briefing happens. Cain walks us through floor plans projected on the wall. Entry points, blind spots, likely defensive positions. It's thorough. Precise. Cain's good at this.

By two we've war-gamed the approach six different ways. By three we're checking weapons and equipment. By four I'm standing in the parking lot watching the sun drop lower and thinking about Zoe sitting in my house.

She could've left. I gave her the opportunity this morning when I told her to stay. Could've walked out, gone back to her apartment, protected herself from getting deeper into this.

She stayed.

That means something. I don't have words for what, but it sits in my chest like weight.

Tate comes out and lights a cigarette. Looks at me. "You ready for this?"

"Yeah."

"Good." He takes a drag. "Perry deserved better than what he got."