Page 46 of Reckless

“Millie’s done more than her job,” I say, which is the most complimentary thing I will say about anyone in this room today, possibly this week, and the brothers know it, so a beat of mild amusement moves around the table. Sin’s mouth lifts at one corner. Even Koa grins. I don’t acknowledge it. The numbers are accurate, and accuracy doesn’t require celebration.

“What’s the longer-term picture?” Anchor asks from down the table. He doesn’t say much, but when he does, it’s worth listening to.

“If the current rate holds, the mine covers a significant portion of club overhead in twelve months. That changes our operational exposure. Less need for certain arrangements. More flexibility in others.”

Sin nods. He’s been wanting that for a long time, not necessarily for comfort but for leverage. Clean money doesn’t just pay the bills, it makes you harder to touch. I don’t say that out loud because it doesn’t need to be said.

“What I’m saying…” Deek announces, apparently unable to let the silence stand, “… is that we are now legitimate businessmen. I feel like we should mark this with some kind of ceremony. A fruit platter, maybe?”

“A fucking fruit platter?” Nitro scoffs.

“Or a cheese board. I’m not precious about it.”

“If someone brings a cheese board into Church,” Koa says, “I’m changing the fucking locks.”

Sin lifts a hand into the air, and the conversations die almost instantly. Deek cuts himself off halfway through a sentence, Koa drops back into his chair, and by the time Sin speaks again, every set of eyes is on him.

“Millie did all that?” Sin leans forward, elbows on the table.

“Yeah, she’s great with the details.” I don’t add anything to it. The numbers speak clearly enough on their own.

There’s a beat where nobody says anything, and then Deek breaks it, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. “Somebody needs to make sure that woman never leaves this club.”

Anchor takes a sip of his beer. “Wasn’t planning on letting her.” It’s said so matter-of-factly that nobody smiles straightaway.

Sin closes the folder in front of him, and that’s the signal that this part of the meeting is done. He dismisses Church, and the room comes back to life. Brothers peel off in different directions, and I head for my workstation before anyone can decide they have got five spare minutes to kill.

I’ve barely got my second monitor awake before Sage wanders over. She drops into the chair opposite my desk like it’s belonged to her for years instead of a handful of months, then reaches into the pocket of her jacket and pulls out a packet of beef jerky. She tosses it onto my desk. It skids across the timber and comes to rest beside my keyboard. “I come bearing peace offerings.”

I look at the packet for a second before sliding it toward me. “You stole my lunch.”

“I replaced your lunch,” she corrects. “That’s completely different.”

I turn the packet over. “Teriyaki?”

“It was all they had.”

I look back at her. “That’s unfortunate.”

The laugh that escapes her is quiet, but it’s real, and I catch myself listening to it longer than I should.

She folds one leg underneath herself and gets comfortable while I go back to the monitors.

I don’t remember when that stopped feeling unusual.

“You know…” she says, “… one day you’re actually going to admit you like me.”

I tear the packet open. “I accepted the beef jerky.”

Her smile grows. “That wasn’t the question.”

“It is the answer.”

She shakes her head, somewhere between amused and exasperated. “You’re impossible.”

“So, I’ve been told.”

She smirks, and the conversation fades, without either of us deciding to end it. She pulls her phone from her pocket, absently scrolling through something while I turn back to my monitors, the sound of keys filling the space between us.