Chapter 15 Bellamy
BELLAMY
No one speaks. The silence stretches—tight, deliberate, waiting for someone to flinch. I don’t.
The tension in the room changes shape—less explosive, more assessing. Like four dangerous men recalibrating their understanding of me in real time.
Good, I think.
I draw in a slow breath. “It wasn’t intentional.”
Cruz lifts a brow. “Didn’t say it was.” The faint edge in his tone sounds almost like respect.
Bishop doesn’t share the sentiment. His stare pins me like I’ve disrupted the natural order. “Doesn’t matter if it was intentional. You still scooped our job.”
“Or perhaps you were the ones who tried to scoop our job,” I say evenly. “Or it was just a coincidence and that’s it.”
Bishop scoffs. “Yeah? Funny how these coincidences keep piling up.”
Lola steps forward, arms folded. “Funny how your attitude keeps piling up.”
Bishop shoots her a look, but Lola doesn’t flinch. She never has.
Rafe shifts against the wall, posture loose, attention anything but. “Gage says you’ve got eyes on Highlight Entertainment.”
Beckett moves like someone tugged an invisible string through his spine, shoulders squaring as he steps into the room. “Maybe we do,” he says. “Why do you care?”
Rafe shrugs, slow, easy, but there’s nothing relaxed in the way his eyes skim the three of us.
“Because it’s not a small hit. Unless you only have three people.
” He gestures, lazy on the surface, exact underneath.
“One of you scouts, one goes inside, one drives. That’s a lot of wasted motion.
A lot of time spent going back and forth.
” He taps his finger against the wall. “And time is what gets people caught.”
Beckett bristles and takes a half-step forward. I lift a hand without looking at him, and he stops. Rafe’s not wrong, and I hate that more than I hate him saying it out loud.
“And let me guess, you’re offering yourselves as reinforcements,” I say, keeping my voice light.
“Seems like it,” Rafe drawls.
“Seems like,” Bishop cuts in, “Gage thinks you’re the golden ticket.” His voice is cold, edged. “Thinks you’ve got some grand plan worth hitching our entire crew to.”
Gage's nostrils flare slightly as he draws a slow breath, his jaw working beneath the skin like he's biting back words that might make things worse. “I didn’t say she had a grand plan—”
“Yes, you did,” Bishop snaps. “You said she has the in.”
“Because she does,” Gage says.
Bishop's jaw tightens as Gage speaks, a muscle flickering beneath his skin.
Rafe's eyes narrow almost imperceptibly at his brother, while Cruz shifts his weight, fingers drumming once against his thigh before going still.
The air between them practically crackles, loaded with unspoken arguments and old grievances.
I narrow my eyes at him, letting my gaze bounce between brothers. Is this a bluff or does Gage actually know about Lola’s new friend, the delivery guy?
The silence thickens like fog, filling every corner of this too-perfect open concept kitchen-living room. We're all just standing here, sizing each other up in a space designed for magazine spreads, not standoffs.
Rafe’s attention slides back to me again, sharpening. “Do you?”
My pulse thuds once, low and steady, before I force my face into perfect neutrality. “Why? You looking to steal it?”
Rafe’s mouth curves. It’s not quite a smile, not quite a threat. “If I wanted to steal your job, Bellamy…” His voice dips, dark velvet and danger. “You wouldn’t see me coming.”
A shiver threads down my spine. Involuntary and irritating.
Lola steps closer to me, chin high. “I don’t hear a proposal, do you, Bells?”
“I think we should work Highlight together,” Gage says.
“So what are you saying exactly? Because we’re not stupid enough to rely on a Calloway driver while the three of us are inside,” Lola says, circling her index finger in the general direction of me and Beck.
“You think we’ll leave you,” Rafe says with a dip of his chin.
“You might. What’s stopping you from bailing and tipping off the cops the second you decide your cut isn’t big enough?” Lola asks, her brows high and her lips twisted with disapproval.
“Jesus,” Cruz mutters, “you think we’re amateurs?”
“I think you’re Calloways,” Lola fires back.
Gage drags a hand down his face, impatience roughening his voice. “We’re not screwing you over. That’s the whole point. We put everything on the table, we run the job together, and everyone gets paid. But we have to trust each other.”
Bishop’s humorless laugh cracks through the room. “Trust? We’re not even in agreement that we’re doing this job. And I sure as hell didn’t vote to take this meeting.”
“Oh?” I let my gaze travel from his clenched jaw down to his white-knuckled fists, then back up to meet those storm-cloud eyes, taking my time with each inch. “And yet you’re here.”
His eyes narrow on me.
“So that means…” I let my words trail off as I tilt my head, letting my gaze travel slowly from Bishop to Gage, then to Rafe, to Cruz, before settling back on Bishop with deliberate precision. “You were outvoted.”
Something hot and dark flares behind his eyes. And God help me—some deep, unwise part of me likes it. The little flicker of temper. The way my words slip under his skin like they’re hunting for bone.
It’s satisfying, dangerously so.
The reaction in the room is immediate.
Cruz's mouth twitches at the corner, his teeth catching his bottom lip as he glances at the floor. Rafe goes still, his gaze fixed on me with the focused intensity of someone watching a chess opponent make a move. Gage’s lips twitch, too, but he hides it by folding his arms, schooling his face back to blank.
Beckett lets out a soft sound, almost a laugh, and even Lola's expression softens—the corners of her mouth twitching before she clamps it down again.
Bishop’s glare stays on me, but I hold it, holding myself steady and unbothered as I let the silence deepen. I’ve seen scarier things than a pissed-off Calloway.
“Votes don’t mean shit until Coco weighs in,” Bishop says.
“She’ll vote yes once she hears the take,” Gage says.
I straighten up and fold my arms across my chest. “Right. And what do you think the take is?”
Because I already know what Lola’s early recon suggested.
Jewelry and cash mean fast turnover and high profit.
The soundboards are heavy and slow to move, but Marty already has two buyers lined up, so those are a priority too.
Our fence near Appleton will take the smaller equipment and merch without hesitation.
Three people limit the haul. But four more bodies change the equation entirely.
As much as I loathe to admit it, more manpower changes everything. With their muscle and coordination, we can move so much more. Lola’s early estimate of three-quarters of a million dollars suddenly becomes possible.
Gage glances at Cruz, then Rafe, then finally Bishop, like he’s daring him to contradict it. “Considering the festival timeline and the inventory rotation.” He shrugs once. “Mid-six figures. Easy.”
Lola' s shoulders tense as she leans forward. Beside me, Beckett's breath catches, then releases with a harsh “Shit” that barely disturbs the sudden silence.
Gage's eyes lock onto mine, catching the twitch at the corner of my mouth I couldn't suppress. “Yeah. So now that we’re all on the same page, I think we’d make a hell of a team.”
Bishop drags a hand across his jaw, posture rigid, shoulders drawing even tighter beneath that fitted surf-brand tee. “You better be right about this.”
“Oh, I am,” Gage answers without hesitation. “And it only works if we’re in it together.”
Cruz pushes off the wall, palms sliding into his pockets as his gaze sweeps between all of us. “So what’s next?”
Every head turns to me, and six sets of eyes pinning me to the spot.
Heat crawls up the back of my neck, and I resist the urge to wipe at it with the heel of my hand. I square my shoulders instead. “We finish recon. On our terms. If we’re going to cut it eight ways, then we’re going to take it all.”
I make a mental note to go over Lola’s assumed inventory, see what else we can add to our list.
Gage nods immediately, like he’s been waiting for that exact answer. “Agreed. And I’m in. I’ll go with you. Build trust, keep things clean, all that.” The grin he gives me is pure trouble.
“Absolutely not,” Bishop snaps before I can respond. “You and her in a car for days? No. Last thing we need is you two fucking around and missing a security rotation.”