Chapter Ten #2
Cord’s broom paused. Plug elbowed him, and Cord started sweeping again.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Twister warned.
Tempi planted her hands tighter on her hips. “Like what?”
“Like you’re about to throw the cue ball at my head.”
“I wasn’t thinking about the cue ball.”
Twister’s lips twitched. “Bottle?”
“Maybe.”
“I’m the Prez, Tempi. I can tell my guys to sweep if I want.”
“Your guys are grown men.”
“Prospects.”
“Still men.”
“Debatable,” Hodge called from the pool table.
Cord muttered, “I heard that.”
“You were supposed to,” Hodge said.
I stopped on the bottom step and took it all in.
The Saint’s Outlaws in the morning was apparently no quieter than the Saint’s Outlaws at night. Good to know.
Wheels came out of the kitchen with a steaming mug in his hand. His eyes found me immediately, and he changed direction without missing a step.
He walked over and held out the coffee.
I took it with both hands like it was a religious offering. “Thank you,” I said.
“Drink slow.”
“I make no promises.”
“Good morning, sunshine,” Tempi called.
I grimaced and took a careful sip. Hot, black, perfect. “How are you so wide awake this morning after last night?”
Tempi smiled. “I can hold my liquor.”
Twister snorted.
She pointed at him without looking. “Quiet.”
He lifted his coffee.
“And,” she added, “I took a handful of Tylenol before I went to sleep.”
“That feels like cheating.”
“It’s called planning,” she winked.
I looked around the room and noticed two people missing. “Where are Britta and Swift?”
Tempi laughed. “Britta does not handle her liquor as well.”
Swift’s voice drifted from upstairs. “She heard that and hates you.”
Tempi cupped a hand around her mouth. “Love you, Britta!”
A weak groan came from somewhere above us.
Gramps came through the front door with a small stack of mail in his hand and a scowl on his face. “Mail,” he announced like he had just returned from battle.
Twister held out his hand.
Gramps slapped the stack into his palm. “Bills. Junk. More junk. Something from the city, which I say we burn before it curses us.”
Podge appeared from the hallway. “Please don’t burn official correspondence.”
Gramps pointed at him. “You’re official correspondence.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does to me.”
Wheels guided me toward the table with a light hand at the small of my back. Barely there. Still enough for me to notice. I sat down, and he took the chair beside me.
Tempi moved toward the kitchen. “You want food, Goldie?”
My stomach rolled. “I don’t know.”
“A greasy burger will fix you right up,” she promised.
“It is barely morning.”
“It’s almost noon,” Hodge said.
I stared at him. “Again?”
He grinned. “Rough life.”
Tempi opened the refrigerator. “Burger. Egg. Cheese. Maybe bacon.”
My stomach gave a tiny, interested flutter. “That actually sounds amazing,” I admitted.
Tempi pointed at me. “See? Trust me.”
Twister started flipping through the mail while everyone kept talking around him.
Cord and Plug kept sweeping. Hodge leaned on his pool cue and watched them like he was supervising. Podge tried to sort a stack of papers at the bar while Gramps stood beside him, complaining about how the mail was proof society had failed.
Wheels stayed close to me, quiet, drinking coffee. I drank mine and let the noise settle around me. For a few minutes, it almost felt normal.
Not my old normal. A new one full of men arguing about chores and women threatening to throw bottles at presidents.
Then Twister went still.
The room didn’t quiet immediately.
Cord’s broom scraped across the floor. Tempi opened a cabinet. Hodge muttered something to Plug, but I saw Wheels notice. His body shifted beside me. Not much. Just enough.
Then Twister said, “What the fuck?”
The room dropped silent instantly. Tempi turned from the kitchen, and Wheels sat forward.
Swift appeared at the top of the stairs, suddenly wide awake, with Britta peeking around him in an oversized shirt and messy hair.
Twister held a plain white envelope in one hand.
No return address. No stamp. No postage mark.
My stomach went cold.
“That come in the mail?” Wheels asked.
Gramps frowned. “It was in the stack.”
Twister looked at him. “It wasn’t mailed.”
Gramps’ scowl deepened. “Then how the hell did it get in the mailbox?”
Nobody answered because nobody had to.
Twister opened the envelope slowly and pulled out one sheet of paper.
Twister read the note, and his jaw tightened.
Wheels stood. “What does it say?”
Twister didn’t answer right away. He lowered the paper onto the table, turning it so the rest of us could see.
The words were typed in a plain black font.
WE KNOW YOU KNOW.
WE KNOW WHAT SHE TOOK.
WE’RE COMING.
WE WON’T STOP.
My coffee cup shook in my hands. Wheels reached over and gently took it from me before I dropped it.
Nobody said a word. Not even Nugget, who had somehow appeared halfway down the stairs, shirtless, hair a mess, eyes locked on the paper.
The Ledger knew.
They knew I’d told the Saints.
They knew the copies from my apartment weren’t everything.
They knew enough to leave a warning in the clubhouse mailbox like they could walk right up to the front door whenever they wanted.
Twister slowly lifted his head. His eyes were flat, cold, and dangerous. “Lock it down.” The words were quiet.
Everyone moved.
Hodge headed for the front windows. Cord and Plug dropped their brooms and moved toward the door. Swift disappeared back upstairs, pushing Britta with him, telling her to get dressed.
Wheels moved close enough that his leg brushed mine.
Tempi came out from behind the bar with her face pale but her chin lifted.
Twister looked at Wheels. “Get Goldie away from the windows.”
Wheels didn’t hesitate. His hand closed around mine, firm and steady, and he pulled me to my feet.
I stood because he told me to. Because Twister had just given the order. Because the one normal moment I’d let myself have had been shattered in the time it took to open one envelope.
The Ledger wasn’t hiding anymore.
They weren’t only buried in paperwork, old tunnels, shell companies, and quiet break-ins.
They were right there. Close enough to touch the mailbox. Close enough to watch us. Close enough to make sure we knew this wasn’t over.
Wheels pulled me toward the hallway; his body angled between me and the front of the clubhouse.
I looked back once. The note sat in the middle of the table. Plain. Simple. Terrifying.
WE’RE COMING.
And for the first time since I’d run to the Saint’s Outlaws, I truly understood something. The Ledger wasn’t trying to scare me away anymore. They were coming to take back what they thought was theirs.