Page 118 of Boulder's Weight

She lifts her head to look at me, vulnerability clear in her eyes. "Why?"

The question hangs between us. I could brush it off, make a joke, keep things light the way I always have with women.

Instead, I find myself answering with honesty that surprises even me.

"Because you're different," I admit, the words feeling both terrifying and freeing. "You matter in a way no one else ever has."

Her eyes widen slightly, her fingers tracing the outline of my jaw. "Boulder..."

"I should get ready," I say, not ready for whatever might come next, for words that might make this too real. "Craig will be waiting."

She nods, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before rolling away. "Be careful."

I watch her wrap herself in the sheet, padding to the bathroom, her hair tumbling down her back in messy waves.

The sight makes my chest tight.

As I dress, checking my weapons and phone, I find myself making a silent promise—not just to Kelsey, but to myself.

Iwillend the threat Benji poses, and I will keep her safe, no matter the cost.

The guys and I head out a few minutes later.

Thetaqueríais busy when I arrive, the dinner crowd filling most tables.

Good. Public spaces with witnesses make for poor ambush sites.

I spot Craig immediately, hunched in a corner booth, an untouched cup of coffee in front of him.

He looks worse than when I saw him last—thinner, with dark circles under his eyes and a healing cut across his cheekbone.

Sliding into the booth across from him, I keep one hand near the gun concealed under my cut. "You look like shit."

A humorless laugh escapes him. "Yeah, well. Life with Benji ain't exactly a beach vacation these days."

"Why'd you call me?" I get straight to the point, scanning the restaurant for potential threats.

Razor and Brick are positioned at the bar, pretending to watch a soccer game while keeping an eye on our table.

Craig leans forward, his voice low. "Benji's planning something. Something big. Working with that woman—Sally—and some local cartel boss named Andrés."

"Tell me something I don't already know," I say, unimpressed.

"How about this?" Craig slides his phone across the table, showing a photo of documents. "Warehouse delivery schedule. Weapons coming in tomorrow night. Enough firepower to start a small war."

I study the image, my jaw tightening.

This is the real deal—military-grade weaponry, way beyond what a personal vendetta would require.

"Why should I believe you're not still working for Benji?" I ask, sliding the phone back. "Last time I checked, you were his right-hand man."

Craig's face twists with something that looks like regret. "I've been his shadow my whole life. Did whatever he asked, no questions. But this..." He shakes his head. "He's not after Kelsey anymore. Not just her, anyway. He wants to destroy everyone she cares about. The club, her friend Tara back in Montana, even that cat café she works at."

"And you suddenly grew a conscience?"

His eyes meet mine, surprisingly steady. "Not suddenly. Been growing for years. Since Dad's arrest, watching what our family business did to people. Kelsey was right to get out, to turn him in. Took me too long to see it." He pauses, swallowing hard. "And I... I can't let him hurt our little sister. Not after everything she's been through."

I’m skeptical, but I want to believe him.

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