Page 49 of Spinner's Luck

My fingers found hers, rough calluses brushing soft skin. “Don’t act like it doesn’t matter,” I rasped. “It does.Youdo.”

Something shifted, space disappearing until all that existed was her, me, and the heat thrumming between us.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured.

“Good,” I said, voice gravel-thick. “Neither am I.”

Her breath hitched. “So... what now?”

“Now?” A smirk tugged at my lips as I backed her toward the bed. “Now we fuck.”

And when she hit the mattress and I followed, the rest of the world could go to hell.

Right now—thiswas all that mattered.

I LEANED BACKin my chair, spinning a smallgadget between my fingers, letting it click softly. The air around the table was thick, heavy with the kind of anticipation that made your chest tighten. Devil stood at the head, his eyes cutting over the maps and papers like a blade through flesh—sharp, deliberate, already ten steps ahead. Nothing slipped past him. Hell, nothing ever had.

“We’re hitting their shipment,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet murmurs with authority. “It’s running through the old north route tomorrow night. Spinner, Bolt, Chain—you’re leading the charge with me. Rune, Gearhead, Thunder—you’ll cover the rear. Mystic will stay behind to oversee security on the clubhouse.”

I shifted forward, resting my elbows on the table. The gadget spun faster between my fingers. “What’s in the shipment?” I asked, curiosity riding me.

Devil shot a nod to Gatsby who tapped a folder on the table. “Drugs. High-end, pure. Word is, they’re moving enough weight to set up a pipeline through the south.”

“Figures,” Bolt muttered beside me, arms crossed like he was ready to fight the world. “Drago’s runnin’ for the cartel. Should’ve put him down the first time he stepped on our territory.”

“Patience,” Devil said, his voice soft but commanding. “This isn’t about starting a war just yet—not with the cartel involved. This is about reminding him why he doesn’t belong here. We destroy the shipment and get out. Clean. Quiet.”

I couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at my lips. “Quiet’s not really our thing.”

The room rumbled with laughter, but Devil’s glare wiped the smirks off our faces. “Make it your thing this time, Spinner. We don’t need the ABC’s sniffing around because you couldn’t keep it low.”

“Got it,” I said, spinning the gadget one last time before shoving it into my pocket.

Mystic, sitting at the corner of the table, leaned forward, his brow furrowed. “You think Drago’s gonna show on the run?”

“I doubt it,” Devil replied, tapping his pen on the table. I should let him borrow a spinner; he seemed like he needed something to keep his hands busy. “But Fang? Maybe.”

I nodded, slow and deliberate, eyes fixed on nothing but the storm brewing in my head. Fang was a cocky bastard—the kind of guy who thought he could outsmart us, like the rules didn’t apply to him. Arrogant. Reckless. The kind of stupid that got a man killed. And the fact that he was gunning for Lucy?

Yeah.

That made him a dead man walking.

No doubt about it. His grave was already dug, I was just deciding how deep to bury him.

“And what’s the plan when we find him?” Chain drawled, that grin of his razor-sharp—sharp enough to gut a man without lifting a blade. There was violence flickering in his eyes, coiled tight beneath that laid-back exterior. Chain was a walking contradiction—laid-back as hell but so damn deadly when it counted.

Devil’s gaze swept over us, cold and cutting. “You make sure he regrets ever crossing us.” His voice was iron, no room for questions, no cracks in the command.

“Simple enough,” I muttered, though my mind was already spinning through the possibilities, none of them ending pretty.

Bolt stepped in, voice low but edged with caution. “What about backup? Drago’s crew don’t roll light.”

Devil jerked his chin toward the maps spread across the table. “Backup’s covered. Horse, Gatsby, and Flick are on lookout. You run into trouble, they’ll be in before you even call.”

It wasn’t a plan. It was a goddamn promise.

Rune cracked his knuckles, the sound loud in the room. “And if Drago himself shows?”

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