Chapter Twenty-Six
Twister
I hadn’t even made it back to the clubhouse before I was dialing Swift.
“Call church. Now.”
“You got it,”
he said without asking why.
He knew my tone.
Ten minutes later, the heavy wooden church door clicked shut behind me. The table was already surrounded—Swift, Wheels, Hodge, Podge, Magnum, Rev, and Gramps. Method was staying with Tempi. Cord and Plug were holding down the watch outside. Sully and Chewy were missing.
I walked straight to the head of the table and slapped the note down dead center.
“Read it.”
Wheels grabbed it first and scanned the scrawl.
“‘They’re watching the club. You’re safer without them.’”
He looked up.
“Where’d this come from?”
“Tempi found it this morning,”
I said, my voice low and lethal.
“Left on the bar under a napkin.”
That note hadn’t just pissed me off—it rattled something deep. Someone had gotten close enough to Tempi to leave that message right under her nose, and we didn’t see it. That wasn’t just a threat.
That was a warning shot.
The room went silent.
“Motherfucker,”
Hodge muttered, jaw tight.
“Exactly.”
Swift leaned forward and rubbed his jaw.
“We’ve already had two bricks through our window, and now a veiled threat aimed at your woman.”
Podge slammed a fist on the table.
“We need to hit back. Hard.”
“No.”
I snapped my gaze to him.
“We need to be smarter than that.”
Eyes turned to me, waiting.
“This ain’t some street-level beef. It’s calculated. Quiet. Wheels, what did you find out about any of the three names?”
Wheels straightened in his chair.
“That old political family—Calhoun. Ezra Calhoun, specifically. Used to be a councilman in Madison. Retired a few years back, but his money? Still moving. Foundations. Shell companies. Quiet donations to dead businesses. Ledger-type shit.”
Magnum let out a low curse.
“You think he’s behind The Ledger?”
“I don’t know,”
Wheels said, “but he’s in the mix. Every time I dig deeper, his name pops up in the shadow of something dirty.”
“We got an address?” I asked.
Wheels nodded.
“Estate on the west side. Private property. High walls. Cameras. Private guards. He’s locked down.”
Hodge cracked his knuckles.
“Let’s go knock.”
“No.”
I raised a hand. “Not yet.”
Rev arched a brow.
“Then what’s the play, Prez?”
“We double our watch. Nobody rides solo. Nobody sleeps without steel on the nightstand. And Tempi?”
My jaw locked tight.
“She’s never alone. Not for a second.”
“She with you now?”
Swift asked.
I nodded.
“Left her with Method. I’ll be back there tonight.”
Gramps leaned back, arms crossed.
“You’re falling for her, he means.”
It wasn’t a question.
I looked him square in the eye. “Yeah.”
No one laughed. No one blinked. Because when the president caught feelings, it wasn’t casual.
It was real.
“We track every move. We follow the money. We bleed ‘em if we have to. But we don’t run. Madison is ours now,” I said.
Swift gave a sharp nod. “Agreed.”
Podge slammed his palm down again.
“Then let’s make sure they know it.”
That’s when the door burst open.
Sully charged in with Chewy behind him. They were out of breath, and their eyes wide.
“You’re gonna wanna hear this.”
My stomach dropped before he even said it. I knew it wasn’t going to be good.
“Spit it out,”
I growled.
“Nick’s dead,”
Sully panted.
“Frank’s gone. Shop was torched. Cops everywhere. They’re calling it an explosion.”
“Fuck,”
Swift muttered, already pushing to stand.
Sully kept going.
“Cops found what was left of Nick inside. Not much of him. Frank’s truck’s gone, and from what we gather, no one can find Frank.”
“They were on our radar,”
I said flatly.
“The Ledger knew we were on to them, and they cleaned house.”
Magnum stood.
“That’s a message.”
“No,”
I growled.
“That’s a power move.”
Gramps’s eyes narrowed.
“They’re not afraid to go loud when it suits ‘em.”
“This shit’s accelerating,”
Hodge said.
“They're moving fast now.”
I looked around the table.
“Then we move faster.”
Church wrapped twenty minutes later with new orders, rotating patrol shifts, and tighter security on every inch of the clubhouse and Tempi’s bar. No one questioned it. The air in the room wasn’t panicked—it was focused. Deadly focused.
We were past playing defense now.
I stepped outside, lit a cigarette, and stared down the street as smoke curled in front of my face.
Tempi was safe. Still mine.
But the cost of keeping her that way was rising by the day.
I dropped the cigarette and crushed it beneath my boot.
“Let ‘em come,”
I muttered.
“Let ‘em see what salvation looks like when you try to take it from me.”