Page 92 of Ruthless Enforcer

Nobody argues, and somehow that's worse.

I set down my coffee. “If James Whitlock wanted to hurt the Reyes family, he wouldn't blow up a garage.”

Luke tilts his head. “What would he do?”

“Something much more boring.”

His eyebrows rise.

“He'd freeze credit lines. Tie up property transfers. Find a regulatory problem with every legitimate business they own. He'd make three phone calls and have six attorneys bleeding them to death by lunch.” I wrap my hands around the hot mug, holding it closer for comfort. “My uncle believes violence is what you use when you've run out of leverage.”

Scratching his chin, Luke considers that. “I kind of like your uncle.”

I shake my head. “No, you wouldn't.”

“Fair.”

Gabriel’s mouth twitches. “She’s right. The garage isn't important enough strategically. Blowing it up gets people angry. That's the point.”

“Turner wants the Whitlocks and Reyeses shooting at each other,” Jake says, putting his arm around Emma’s shoulders when she shifts.

“He wants chaos,” Gabriel corrects. “A war is just the easiest way to get it.”

Jake studies him. “When you called, you said you wanted our help.”

“I do.”

“Doing what?”

“Finding Turner.”

The room seems to tighten around the words.

Gabriel sets down his coffee. “You brought him down before. You know the ground. You know how he operates. And you have as much reason to want him gone as I do.” He looks from Jake to Luke, then Emma. “I want to hire Blackthorn to find him before Alessandro decides waiting is no longer an option.”

“Turner comes back to Iron Ridge, he's our problem too,” Luke points out.

“He never stopped being our problem,” Emma says quietly.

Something in her voice makes me look at her.

Then I remember what Gabriel told me. Cole Turner isn't an abstract threat to anyone in this room. He's history.

Luke raises his mug. “Also, violence.”

Jake closes his eyes briefly.

Luke blinks innocently. “What?”

“You’re a grown-ass man.”

“Allegedly.”

Emma laughs.

For the first time since Gabriel got the call about the garage, some of the pressure in my chest eases. Knowing it’s going to be okay, I reach into my tote for my sketchbook.

Drawing isn't a distraction for me. It's how I make sense of things. When the world becomes too loud, I reduce it to line and shadow until I can see what matters.