Page 71 of Boulder's Weight

"Yeah," I answer, moving toward the coffeemaker. "You both gonna be in the meeting at seven?"

Razor nods, rolling up the map. "Lots to cover. Your girl complicated things."

"She didn't ask for this shit," I say, more defensively than I intend. "Some asshole sent me that text about her."

"Interesting timing," Python muses, watching me closely. "Just when we're dealing with Andrés and Sally's bullshit."

I pour coffee into two travel mugs, adding sugar to mine, leaving Kelsey's black the way I've seen her drink it, and make a note to drop it off in my room in case she happens to wake up while I’m in the chapel. "You think they're connected? Her brothers and our problems?"

Python shrugs. "World's full of coincidences, but I don't believe in 'em much."

I don't either, which is why the timing of that text makes my skin crawl.

Someone wanted me to know who Kelsey really is, wanted to expose her.

But why? And who?

When it’s nearly seven, I enter the chapel with my coffee, finding Amara already seated at the head of the table.

She looks tired but alert, her eyes tracking me as I take my place. "How's your girl?"

"Sleeping. It was a rough night."

She nods, taking a sip from her own mug. "I bet. It’s not every day you claim someone, find out she's on the run from psycho brothers, and discover daddy dearest is the kind of monster we put down without a second thought."

Before I can respond, the door opens and the rest of the officers file in—Python, Razor, Axel, and Zorro, the Sergeant at Arms, whose critical eyes miss nothing.

I've always respected Zorro, maybe because he reminds me a bit of my old man—quiet, observant, and deadly when necessary.

Once everyone's seated, Amara starts. "We've got multiple situations developing. First, Andrés. The warehouse hit sent a message, but he's gone dark since. No movement at his known locations, which means he's either lying low or planning something."

"Or both," Axel adds.

"Second," Amara continues, "we now have Kelsey—or Cady Warlow, whatever name she's using—and her brothers potentially in our territory. We need to decide how to handle this without compromising our other operations."

Zorro leans forward, his weathered face serious. "Any news on Sally?"

The question hangs heavy in the air. I almost forgot about the bitch.

Sally Bernard—mother of Seraphina, Turmoil's old lady from the Vegas charter.

The woman's been on a crusade against the club since her husband was killed years ago.

"Nothing," Razor says grimly. "Been quiet for two weeks now."

"That's what worries me," Zorro says, his fingers drumming on the table. "Sally doesn't go quiet unless she's planning something big. Last time she went dark, she was trying to pull shit off in Montana."

"You think she sent that text about Kelsey?" I ask, the thought having nagged at me since last night.

Zorro's eyes shift to me, assessing. "It’s possible. She's got eyes everywhere. Might have recognized your girl from when she was still Cady Warlow, making the news for turning in daddy."

"Either way," Amara interjects, "we need to know more about these Warlow brothers. Axel, I want you to contact our Montana charter, see what they know. Razor, get our contacts in the police to run background checks. I want to know everything about these fuckers—criminal records, known associates, their fucking shoe sizes if you can get them."

I pipe up. "We don’t need the police. I have access to a website that’ll give us all this shit."

Amara cocks her head to the side, “All right, then you can do that and see what you can find out about the three of them—Sam, Craig, and Benji, is it?”

I nod, but take an opportunity to speak. "I want to approach the brothers directly, if I’m given the chance."

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