Page 79 of Rebel

“Mistakes?Like shit that will come back to haunt us?”I asked.

He just stared for a moment not answering my question.

“Why the hell would you do that?”I pressed.

Shade leaned back in his chair, the springs creaking.“Perfect cover stories raise red flags.People make mistakes.They get drunk and use their credit card at the wrong place.They forget to turn off location services on their phone.These little errors make the story believable.These two, if they really did flee like this, might get sloppy along the way.Planting thosemistakesmakes it more believable.”

I nodded, understanding his logic but not liking it.“How big are these mistakes?”

“Small enough to be written off as human error.Big enough to be found by someone looking.”He turned back to his screens.“It’s a balancing act.”

Just as I reached the door, Shade called out, “Rio.”

I turned.“Yeah?”

“If anyone asks, I’ve been teaching you poker strategies all afternoon.We never discussed this.”

“What’s my tell?”I asked.

His mouth twitched.“You touch your left ear when you’re bluffing.”

I fought the urge to reach for my ear.“Good to know.”

Shade returned to his work, already forgetting my presence.I watched him for a moment longer before stepping back into the main part of the clubhouse.

“Wait,” he called just as I opened the door.I turned back one last time.

Shade didn’t look up from his screens, but his voice was deadly serious.“I’ll rig it so they look like they’ve defected to non-extradition countries but remember -- if the feds dig deep enough, this house of cards could collapse.”

I nodded, the gravity of his words settling on my shoulders like a physical weight.“How long will it hold?”

“Long enough,” he said, his fingers already back to dancing across the keyboard.“Sooner or later, they’ll shuffle these off to a cold case file and focus on the next big thing.”

The rhythmic clicking of Shade’s typing followed me out the door.In the hallway, I paused to collect myself, straightened my shoulders and headed toward the main room.How the hell did these men do this?It was my first time and I was a nervous wreck.If I had to do this too many times, I’d likely have a heart attack.

* * *

I spotted Rebel, leaning against the wall near the hallway junction, his gaze finding mine with laser focus.Something in his expression made my breath catch -- a determination that hadn’t been there this morning.Without a word, he pushed off the wall and jerked his head toward one of the rooms.I followed.

“What’s going on?”I asked as we stepped into one of the rooms that had once been a bedroom.When I’d asked about them before, Rebel had told me there had been a time everyone stayed at the clubhouse.Back when the club was still new-ish.

“Something that can’t wait,” he said, his words clipped.

Rebel gestured for me to sit, but I shook my head.Whatever this was, I’d face it standing.

“Spit it out,” I said, crossing my arms.“What’s so urgent?”

He ran a hand through his hair -- a nervous gesture I’d rarely seen from him.Rebel didn’t do nervous.He was cocky, borderline arrogant, with the fighting skills to back it up.Seeing him this way set my nerves on edge.

He opened his palm, revealing a small silver ring.It wasn’t new or flashy -- the band was worn in places, with a simple design etched into the metal.It looked old, possibly vintage.

“What is that?”I asked, though I had my suspicions.

“It was my grandmother’s,” he said, turning it between his fingers.“One of the few things I have from before… everything.My mom wore it until the day she died.When Dad died, I found it in his dresser drawer.”

He rarely talked about his past, but I knew the broad strokes -- enough to understand what this ring represented to him.

“Rebel --” I started, but he cut me off.

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