Chapter 5 #2
“Are you allowed to say that if you’re married to her?” Lee asks, grinning.
Tank flicks him the bird.
“Enough.” I’m fighting my own smile now. “I’ll call Butters, see how many men he can spare. If Brick’s one of them, Ginger will deal. We’ve got bigger problems than her maternal instincts.”
“Easy for you to say,” Tank mutters. “You’re not the one she’s gonna recruit to help knit him a fucking sweater.”
“What’s the play on Ivan?” Lee asks, steering us back on track. “We wait for them to come at us again, or we take the fight to them?”
It’s the question I’ve been turning over since the moment I got that phone call. The instinct to hit back is overwhelming—find Ivan, find everyone connected to him, burn Summit to the ground.
But instinct isn’t strategy, and strategy is what keeps people alive.
“We gather intel first,” I say. “I want to know where Ivan is hiding, who he’s working with, what Summit’s next move is going to be. Bones, keep digging. Steel, I want surveillance on every property we’ve connected to their operation.”
Steel nods. He spent four years as a Marine scout sniper before he left—not for lack of skill, but because he couldn’t stomach the politics. His marksmanship scores were legendary; it was his attitude toward commanding officers that needed work. Their loss is our gain.
“And then?”
“We end this. Permanently.” I look around the table, meeting each man’s eyes in turn. “They came for Josie. They came into a hospital room and tried to kill a woman under our protection. That can’t stand.”
“Damn right it can’t,” Duck mutters.
“We’ll coordinate with Josie’s contacts at the FBI—she’s been building a federal case alongside the local one.
When we move, we move with the full weight of the law behind us.
No loose ends, no comebacks.” I stand, signaling the end of the meeting.
“Until then, we lock down. Nobody goes anywhere alone. Prospects on the perimeter, armed guard on the clubhouse around the clock. And someone’s on Josie at all times. ”
“What should I do with our visitor?” Hawk asks. “Not sure how long he’ll want to hang in the box.”
I frown. “Hold him for another few hours, see what else you can get out of him, then hand him over to the Feds. Let them deal with it.”
“What about the mayoral thing?” Duck taps the campaign pin on his chest. “Maggie’s been on me about campaign appearances. Got a thing at the community center next week—meet and greet with voters.”
Right. The election. In the chaos of the past few weeks, I’ve almost forgotten we’re trying to get Duck elected mayor.
“You still want to do it?”
“Hell yes, I want to do it. Best way to fight Summit is to take their puppet out of the running.” Duck’s jaw sets stubbornly. “Vernick’s been their mouthpiece on the council for years. We put him out of office, we cut off their legitimate channels.”
“It makes you a target.”
“Already was a target. Might as well be a target who’s doing something useful.”
I can’t argue with that logic. “Fine. You’ll take backup. Your main focus should be on campaigning. We’ll figure out details once Ridgeline gets here.” I glance around once more, nodding to each of them. “Meeting adjourned. Get to work.”
They file out, Tank still grumbling about Ginger and her brother. I reach for my phone.
Butters picks up on the second ring.
An hour later, I find myself back outside Josie’s door.
I should have gone to bed and grabbed a few hours of sleep while I could. But the hit on Josie is still too raw for me to stay away.
I push the door open quietly, expecting to find her asleep.
She isn’t.
She’s propped up against the pillows, laptop balanced on her knees, frowning at the screen with the kind of intensity she usually reserves for hostile witnesses.
“Oh fuck no.”
She looks up. “Hey you’re back.”
I point at her laptop. “Shut it off.”
She bristles. “Excuse me?”
“No working. Doctor’s orders. Maggie’s orders. My orders.”
She glares. “Since when do I take orders from you?”
“Since someone tried to kill you. Twice. You need to rest.”
“I am resting.” She gestures at the bed. “See? Bed. Pillows. Very restful.”
“You’re working.”
“I’m reviewing documents. It’s hardly working.”
“The doctor said no to screen time for another week.” I cross the room and gently but firmly close her laptop. “Josie. The case can wait. The DA can wait. Everything can wait until you’re not running on pain meds.”
She glares at me. I hold my ground.
“You’re impossible,” she mutters.
“So I’ve been told.”
“I hate being useless.”
“You’re not useless. You’re injured.”
“Same-same.”
The frustration in her voice is real, and I understand it. Josie isn’t the kind of woman who sits on the sidelines. She fights, she strategizes, she makes things happen. Being stuck in a bed while the world moves around her has to be driving her insane.
“I know this is hard,” I say, sitting on the edge of the bed. “But you almost died. Your body needs time to heal.”
“My body’s an overachiever. It’ll do what I tell it to.”
I almost grin at the outlandish statement. “That’s not how bodies work.”
“How would you know?”
“I’ve broken enough of mine to have some experience.” I reach out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She freezes at the contact but doesn’t pull away. “Please, Josie. Let yourself rest.”
She stares at me for a long moment, something complicated moving behind her eyes.
“Maggie dropped by and said Ridgeline’s sending people?” she asks, changing the subject.
“Tomorrow. Four men, including Ginger’s brother.”
“Which one? Hank, Ralph or Bradley?”
“Bradley, but he goes by Brick.” I smile slightly.
“Good. We could use the help.” She pauses. “You also want someone to watch Isabel, right?”
Nothing slips by her.
“That’s the plan. I want to see where she goes, what she does. Figure out what she’s hiding.”
Josie nods slowly. “I guess that makes sense.”
She holds my gaze for another moment, then sighs when I tap the top of the laptop.
“Fine,” she says, handing it to me. “I’ll rest. But I reserve the right to be difficult about it tomorrow.”
“I’d expect nothing less.”
“And I’m not doing this because you told me to. I’m doing it because I’m tired and the pain meds are making me loopy.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself.”
“Shut up.”
I almost laugh. Even exhausted, drugged, bruised and broken—she’s still the same sharp-tongued woman I’ve fallen for.
I set the laptop aside and move to the bed. She’s been propped up on pillows to work, but now she’s listing sideways, fighting to keep her eyes open.
“Come here,” I say softly, sliding an arm behind her shoulders.
She stiffens for a moment—instinct, I think—then exhales and lets me take her weight. I ease her forward, adjusting the pillows with my free hand, then lower her gently back against them.
“I can do it myself,” she mumbles, but her fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt.
“I know you can.”
I smooth the blanket over her, my knuckles brushing her collarbone.
This close, I can see the patchy regrowth of hair where they shaved her head, soft and dark against her scalp.
The bruises on her face have faded from purple to a sickly yellow-green.
The stitches along her hairline are starting to dissolve.
I watch her eyes drift closed, her breathing slow and even. The tension in her shoulders softens, and she shifts a fraction of an inch closer to me, probably without even realizing it.
She’s okay, I tell myself. She’s here. She’s safe. That’s what matters.
But even as I think it, I know it isn’t enough. Safe for now isn’t the same as safe forever. As long as Summit wants her dead, she’s in danger.
Which means Summit has to go.
I stay longer than I should, watching her breathe, my hand still resting on the blanket near her hip. I can’t stop thinking about everything that could have gone different. About what I’d do if it had.
Finally, I force myself to leave, closing the door softly behind me.