Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Boulder
The intel from Sam was better than we ever expected.
Sprawled across the table in church are maps, photographs, and handwritten notes detailing Benji's movements since arriving in Chihuahua.
Sam has been gathering information even while nursing his own injuries, watching from a distance before approaching the clubhouse.
Smart, really smart.
"He's rented a warehouse here," Sam says, pointing to a spot on the map marked with a red X. "Using the name Warren Enterprises. Ironic, using Mom's name while hunting his own sister."
Amara studies the location, her eyes narrowing. "That's less than two miles from Andrés' territory. Coincidence?"
I shake my head. "After all this time in the life, I don't believe in coincidences."
Razor leans forward, tracing a route with his finger. "Benji's had contact with Sally Bernard on at least three occasions according to our surveillance. Each meeting in public places, never the same location twice."
"She's careful," Python adds. "Always has been. Makes sense she'd connect with someone hunting one of our own."
"Any sign of Craig?" I ask Sam, watching his reaction carefully.
Sam's expression darkens. "He's still with Benji, but something's off. He's been making calls when Benji's not around, staying behind during some of Benji's meetings. I couldn't get close enough to hear anything, but his body language was... tense."
The door to church opens and Brick enters, a grim set to his jaw. "Call just came in from Dante’s guy at the motel where the Warlows were staying. They've cleared out, left nothing behind."
"Fuck," I mutter, running a hand through my hair. "They're moving operations to the warehouse."
Amara nods, her decision made in an instant. "Twenty-four-hour surveillance on the warehouse, rotating shifts. Python, call my uncle. I want more cartel guys around. I want eyes on every entrance and exit, and I want those fuckers to know just how royally they fucked up. The cartel is in my fuckin’ blood, and I swear to God I’m going to rain hellfire down on them, and that stupid bitch they’re working with."
"Should we hit them now?" Axel asks, always ready for action. "While we know where they are?"
"Not yet," Amara says firmly. "We need to understand what they're planning with Sally and Andrés first. This feels coordinated, and as much as I’m pissed, I want the full picture before we move."
As the meeting continues, my phone vibrates.
A number I don't recognize lights up the screen. I excuse myself to take it outside.
"Yeah?"
"Boulder?" A familiar voice comes through, tight with anxiety. "It's Craig. Craig Warlow."
Every muscle in my body tenses. "How'd you get this number?"
"Doesn't matter," he says quickly. "I need to meet. Just you. It's about Benji's plan."
"Why would I trust you?" I keep my voice neutral even with my anger simmering below the surface. "Last I checked, you were Benji's shadow."
"Not anymore," Craig says, his voice dropping lower. "He's gone too far. You need to hear what I know."
I hesitate, weighing the risks. "Why would I be stupid enough to meet with you? This could be a fuckin’ trap for all I know."
"It's not," he insists. "Look, I'll be at the taquería on Calle Libertad. One hour. Come alone or don't come. But what I have to tell you could save Kelsey's life."
The line goes dead before I can respond.
I stare at my phone, conflicted as all hell.
If Craig is telling the truth, this could be the break we need.
If he's lying, I could be walking into an ambush.
"Everything okay?" Razor's voice startles me.
He's leaning against the doorframe, watching me with sharp eyes.
"Maybe," I say, slipping my phone back into my pocket. "That was Craig Warlow."
Razor's eyebrows shoot up. "The middle brother? What the fuck does he want?"
"Claims he wants to meet. Says he has information about Benji's plans, that he's not on his brother's side anymore."
"And you believe that shit?" Razor scoffs.
"I don't know what I believe," I admit. "But if there's a chance he's telling the truth..."
Razor studies me for a long moment. "You're thinking of going, aren't you?"
"With backup," I clarify. "I'm not stupid enough to go alone."
"Amara won't like this."
"Amara wants intel. This could be our best shot." I meet his gaze. "I'm going. You can either help me or try to stop me."
A slow grin spreads across his face. "Who said anything about stoppin’ you? But I'm comin’ with, and so is Brick. We'll stay out of sight unless shit goes sideways."
Relief washes through me. "Thanks, brother."
"Don't thank me yet," Razor says, clapping me on the shoulder. "If this is a trap, Amara will kill us both. After we're already dead."
We finish up our meeting in church, and I head upstairs to see what Kelsey’s gotten herself into.
Back in our room, I find her sketching again, perched cross-legged on the bed.
I think it’s almost becoming like therapy to her.
The sight of her—focused, a small crease between her brows as she concentrates—hits me hard.
I want to keep her like this, protected and content.
The thought of Benji getting anywhere near her makes my blood run cold.
She looks up as I enter, a smile spreading across her face. "Hey, you. How was the meeting?"
"Good," I say, closing the door behind me. "Your brother came through with solid intel."
Her smile widens with pride. "Sam's always been observant. Even as a kid, he noticed everything ."
I cross to the bed, sitting beside her. "That why you two were so close? Similar personalities?"
She’s quiet for a moment, placing her sketchbook aside. "Maybe partly. But mostly it was because we were both... different. Benji and Craig took after our father—ambitious, ruthless when necessary. Sam and I were more like our mom. She was gentle, creative."
"You've never really talked about her before."
A shadow crosses Kelsey's face. "It's hard to. She was the center of our family, the one who kept us all human. After she died from cancer... everything fell apart."
I take her hand, tracing the delicate bones with my thumb. "Is that when things got bad with your dad?"
She nods, pain evident in her eyes. "He'd always been harsh, demanding. But Mom balanced it out, softened his edges. Once she was gone, there was nothing holding him back." She pauses, swallowing hard. "That's when the 'business' really expanded."
"You did the right thing," I tell her, bringing her hand to my lips. "Turning him in. Most people wouldn't have had the courage."
She looks away, her voice barely audible. "Sometimes I wonder if I did enough. If I should have noticed sooner, stopped it earlier."
"Hey," I say firmly, turning her face back to me. "None of that shit is on you. Your father made his choices. Benji and Craig made theirs. You did what you could when you saw the truth."
"Maybe," she says, not entirely convinced. "But Sam paid the price too. You saw what Benji did to him."
"And now Sam's safe," I remind her. "You both are."
She searches my face, those whiskey-brown eyes seeing too much. "You're hiding something. What aren't you telling me?"
Fuck. I should know by now I can't keep secrets from her. She reads me too easily.
"Craig called," I admit. "Wants to meet."
Her body tenses instantly. "When?"
"About thirty minutes from now."
"It's a trap," she says immediately, panic flaring in her eyes. "Boulder, you can't go. I don’t like it. Benji's using him to get to me through you."
"Maybe," I acknowledge. "Or maybe Craig's had enough of Benji's shit. Either way, I'm going with backup. Razor and Brick will be watching the whole time."
She shakes her head, gripping my arms. "Please don't do this. Not for me."
"It's not just for you," I explain, though that would be reason enough. "If Craig's telling the truth, we could get inside information on Benji's operation. On his connection to Sally. This affects the whole club now, remember?"
She stands, pacing the our room. "At least take me with you."
"Absolutely fuckin’ not," I say immediately. "That's exactly what Benji would want."
"I know how to read Craig," she argues. "I'd know if he was lying."
"And if it's a setup? If Benji's waiting?" I stand, catching her by the shoulders. "I'm not riskin’ you, Montana. End of discussion."
Her eyes flash with anger and fear. "So you'll risk yourself instead? That's supposed to make me feel better?"
I cup her face in my hands, forcing her to focus on me. "I'll be careful. We'll meet in public. Razor and Brick will be covering me the whole time. This is what I do, Kelsey. This is club business."
She stares up at me, conflict clear in her expression. "Promise me you'll come back."
"I promise," I say without hesitation, though we both know it isn’t something I can control. "You think I'd miss out on more of this?" I gesture between us with a cocky smile, trying to lighten the moment.
It works, drawing a reluctant laugh from her. "You're impossible."
"But you like it," I tease, pulling her against me.
"God help me, I do," she murmurs, her hands sliding around my waist.
I kiss her then, pouring everything I can't say aloud into it. The taste of her is intoxicating, a dangerous addiction I've stopped fighting.
Her body responds instantly, molding against mine as if designed specifically for that purpose.
My hands find the hem of her shirt, slipping beneath to touch warm skin.
She gasps against my mouth as my fingers trace up her spine, unhooking her bra like the professional I am.
Breaking the kiss just long enough to pull her shirt over her head, I back her toward the bed.
We don't have much time before I need to leave, but I need this connection, this reminder of what I'm fighting to protect.
"Boulder," she breathes as I lower her to the mattress, following her down.
My hands and mouth explore her body with hunger, memorizing every curve, every sound she makes.
There's an urgency to my touch that wasn't there before, a desperation born from knowing how dangerous our fucking lives are.
When I slide into her, the feeling is overwhelming—like coming home, like finding a missing piece of myself.
Her legs wrap around my waist, taking me deeper, her eyes locked with mine in a connection that transcends the physical.
"Kelsey," I groan, her name like a prayer on my lips.
For once, I don't try to have all of the control, to keep my distance emotionally.
I let her see everything—the vulnerability, the fear, the overwhelming need I have for her.
As we move together, building toward release, I feel barriers I've maintained my entire life crumbling to dust.
When she comes, clenching around me, my name a broken cry on her lips, I follow immediately, burying my face in her neck as pleasure crashes through me.
We lay tangled together afterward, her head on my chest, my fingers tracing patterns on her skin.
The clock on the wall reminds me I need to leave soon, but I don’t want to break this moment of peace.
"That felt different," she says softly, echoing my thoughts.
I press a kiss to her forehead, unable to deny it. "Yeah. It was."
She lifts her head to look at me, vulnerability clear in her eyes. "Why?"
The question hangs between us. I could brush it off, make a joke, keep things light the way I always have with women.
Instead, I find myself answering with honesty that surprises even me.
"Because you're different," I admit, the words feeling both terrifying and freeing. "You matter in a way no one else ever has."
Her eyes widen slightly, her fingers tracing the outline of my jaw. "Boulder..."
"I should get ready," I say, not ready for whatever might come next, for words that might make this too real. "Craig will be waiting."
She nods, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before rolling away. "Be careful."
I watch her wrap herself in the sheet, padding to the bathroom, her hair tumbling down her back in messy waves.
The sight makes my chest tight.
As I dress, checking my weapons and phone, I find myself making a silent promise—not just to Kelsey, but to myself.
I will end the threat Benji poses, and I will keep her safe, no matter the cost.
The guys and I head out a few minutes later.
The taquería is busy when I arrive, the dinner crowd filling most tables.
Good. Public spaces with witnesses make for poor ambush sites.
I spot Craig immediately, hunched in a corner booth, an untouched cup of coffee in front of him.
He looks worse than when I saw him last—thinner, with dark circles under his eyes and a healing cut across his cheekbone.
Sliding into the booth across from him, I keep one hand near the gun concealed under my cut. "You look like shit."
A humorless laugh escapes him. "Yeah, well. Life with Benji ain't exactly a beach vacation these days."
"Why'd you call me?" I get straight to the point, scanning the restaurant for potential threats.
Razor and Brick are positioned at the bar, pretending to watch a soccer game while keeping an eye on our table.
Craig leans forward, his voice low. "Benji's planning something. Something big. Working with that woman—Sally—and some local cartel boss named Andrés."
"Tell me something I don't already know," I say, unimpressed.
"How about this?" Craig slides his phone across the table, showing a photo of documents. "Warehouse delivery schedule. Weapons coming in tomorrow night. Enough firepower to start a small war."
I study the image, my jaw tightening.
This is the real deal—military-grade weaponry, way beyond what a personal vendetta would require.
"Why should I believe you're not still working for Benji?" I ask, sliding the phone back. "Last time I checked, you were his right-hand man."
Craig's face twists with something that looks like regret. "I've been his shadow my whole life. Did whatever he asked, no questions. But this..." He shakes his head. "He's not after Kelsey anymore. Not just her, anyway. He wants to destroy everyone she cares about. The club, her friend Tara back in Montana, even that cat café she works at."
"And you suddenly grew a conscience?"
His eyes meet mine, surprisingly steady. "Not suddenly. Been growing for years. Since Dad's arrest, watching what our family business did to people. Kelsey was right to get out, to turn him in. Took me too long to see it." He pauses, swallowing hard. "And I... I can't let him hurt our little sister. Not after everything she's been through."
I’m skeptical, but I want to believe him.
The pain in his eyes seems real, the regret seeming genuine.
"So what's Benji's endgame?" I ask, signaling the waitress for coffee.
"Complete destruction," Craig says flatly. "Of Kelsey's new life, of the club that's protecting her, of Sally's enemies. It's a three-way deal—Sally provides intelligence on club operations, Andrés provides local muscle and distribution networks, Benji funds it all with what's left of our father's money."
"And what do you want from us?" I ask, cutting to the chase.
"Protection," Craig says without hesitation. "For me, and for Sam. And I want Benji stopped. Permanently."
"You're asking me to kill your brother."
Craig meets my gaze steadily. "He's not my brother anymore. Hasn't been for a long time. The brother I knew died with our mother. This person, whatever he's become... he needs to be stopped. Before more innocent people get hurt."
The waitress brings my coffee, and I take a moment to process Craig's words.
If he's telling the truth, the situation is even more dangerous than we thought.
If he's lying...
"I need proof," I say finally. "Something concrete that shows you're not playing both sides."
Craig nods, as if he expected this. "I can get you into the warehouse. Show you the weapons shipment before it's distributed. Tomorrow night."
"That's a big risk for you."
"I'm already dead if Benji finds out I'm talking to you. Might as well make it count."
I consider the offer.
It's valuable, but could also still be a trap. "I'll discuss it with my Prez. If we agree, I'll contact you. Same number?"
Craig nods, then hesitates, pulling something from his pocket and sliding it across the table.
A flash drive. "This is for Kelsey. Some of Sam's things he couldn't take when he ran—photos of mom, some drawings she did as a kid. Things I saved when Benji was destroying everything that reminded us of her."
I pocket the drive, oddly touched by the gesture. "I'll make sure she gets it."
"Tell her..." Craig pauses, struggling with the words. "Tell her I'm sorry. For not being strong enough to stand up for her when she needed it."
"Tell her yourself," I say. "When this is over."
A sad smile touches his lips. "If I live that long." He stands, throwing some bills on the table. "I'll text you the details for tomorrow. Come alone, or not at all."
I watch him leave, shoulders hunched as if he’s carrying the weight of the world.
When he's gone, Razor and Brick join me at the table.
"Well?" Razor asks, eyes sharp with interest.
"Either he's telling the truth and risking his life to help us," I say, turning the flash drive over in my hand, "or it's the most elaborate trap I've ever seen."
"What do you think?" Brick asks, always direct.
"I think he's telling the truth," I admit. "At least partly. Whether he's strong enough to follow through... that's another question."
Razor nods, processing this. "We should get back to the clubhouse. Amara needs to hear about it."
As we walk to our bikes, I can't shake the sense that we're reaching a turning point.
The warehouse, the weapons shipment, Craig's betrayal of Benji—all pieces of a puzzle that's starting to form a clear, dangerous picture.
When we return to the clubhouse, I find Kelsey waiting in the main room, tension evident in every line of her body.
She jumps up as soon as she sees me, relief flooding her face. "You're back," she says, the simple statement loaded with emotion.
"Told you I would be," I reply, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her somewhere more private.
In our room, I relay everything Craig told me—the three-way alliance, the weapons shipment, his offer to help us infiltrate the warehouse.
Throughout my explanation, Kelsey listens silently, her expression unreadable.
"You believe him?" she asks when I finish.
"I'm leaning that way," I admit. "But what matters is what you think. You know him better than anyone."
She paces the small space, arms crossed over her chest. "Craig was always... conflicted. Never as hard as Benji, never as soft as Sam. Always caught in the middle, trying to please everyone." She pauses, considering. "If he's breaking from Benji now, he must be really scared. Or he’s finally disgusted with what Benji's become."
"He gave me this for you," I say, holding out the flash drive. "Said it's some of Sam's things he couldn't take when he ran. Photos of your mom, drawings you did as a kid."
Her hands tremble slightly as she takes it, eyes filling with unexpected tears. "He kept these? All this time?"
"Said he saved them when Benji was destroying everything."
She clutches the drive to her chest, emotion overwhelming her for a moment. "Craig always was the sentimental one," she whispers. "Even when he tried to hide it."
"He also said to tell you he's sorry," I add quietly. "For not being strong enough to stand with you when you needed it."
A tear slips down her cheek. "And now he might die trying to help me."
I pull her into my arms, feeling her body shudder against mine. "That's not on you, Montana. That's on Benji. All of this is on Benji."