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“How much do you trust this Ben guy?” I ask Hawk. He turns and holds my gaze, unwavering.

“With my life.”

I arch a brow. “With hers and Joey’s?”

“Undoubtedly.”

Fuck.

I get that, I do.

But I don’t know this fucking guy and I don’t know if we can trust him. I do trust Hawk, however, and if he says Ben is solid then I’ll just have to push down my unease and give this thing a chance.

I nod, sinking back into my seat.

“When would they want to move her?” Storm asks. Hawk grabs the top paper from his stack and slides it across the table to Storm.

“In two days.”

My brows shoot up.

That fucking fast?

“That is who we are dropping her off with,” Hawk says, pointing to the paper in Storm’s hand. “I’ve already had Streak run background checks on both of them. They’re clean.”

“What do we know about Derek?” I ask, turning to look at Streak as he clicks a couple of things on his computer. A map of Baton Rouge appears on the wall behind him.

“He’s been out to a bar or two, he’s gone to dinner with friend or had a client lunch at various places around the city but otherwise, he’s at home or at work.”

“What the fuck?” I whisper.

Derek is obsessed with Raya.

I’d expect more from him.

“It seems like he’s living his life normally and completely moved on from Raya.”

I shake my head. “There is no fucking way that-”

“I said, seems like, dude,” Streak snaps back, cutting me off. “Not that I believe that. I’m telling you what I can see from his movements.”

“We’re going to set up surveillance on him over the next two days. I want to see everything this fucker is up to,” Storm says, nodding to Smith who returns the gesture. “Work in two-man teams and switch out every six hours. No bikes and keep a low profile. I also need two people watching him when we move Raya. I don’t want him anywhere near that drop-off.”

“Which is where exactly?”

Hawk shakes his head. “We’ll find out the morning of. Keeps things more secure.”

“Let’s vote on this,” Storm says, looking around the room at each of us. “Are we tentatively joining this network?”

We go around the table, each one of us casting our vote and it’s unanimous.

The Bayou Devils MC is officially in.

“All right,” storm says, picking up the gavel laying on the table next to him. “Anything else?”

When no one says anything, he bangs the gavel on the table, signaling the end of our meeting. Everyone stands and we start filing out of the room.

Lennon.