Chapter 7
Church smells like smoke, leather, stale coffee, and bad tempers.
It always does when shit’s gone sideways.
I sit back in my chair with my arms folded over my chest, shoulder pressed to the wall, boot planted flat on the scarred wood floor while the rest of the room fills in around me.
Logan stands at the head of the table, hands braced on the surface, jaw locked hard enough to crack a tooth.
The old wood beneath his palms is carved up with years of knives, rings, fists, and men who didn’t know how to keep their mouths shut.
Tonight it looks like it’s waiting for blood.
No one’s smiling.
No one’s bullshitting.
Even Blaze, who usually finds some smartass thing to mutter under his breath just to see who bites, is quiet for once.
Shadow’s got his elbows on his knees, head dipped slightly, eyes sharp under the brim of his cut.
Joker leans back in his chair like he’s loose, but I know better.
There’s a stillness in him that only shows up when he’s ready to put someone in the ground.
Hammer’s posted near the wall like he’d rather be standing than sitting through this, and Landon’s got a folder open in front of him, papers spread out, phone faceup by his hand.
The room’s crowded enough that heat clings to the walls, but it doesn’t soften anything. It just makes everything feel tighter. Pressure does that. Builds. Holds.
I don’t shift.
I don’t need to.
Logan drags a hand down his face, then looks around the table one man at a time. “We’re gonna go over this again, because I’m not interested in assumptions turning into mistakes. We’ve got breathing room right now, and I don’t plan on losing it because someone gets sloppy. Landon.”
Landon nods once, fingers tapping the edge of the paper in front of him. “Brynn’s gotten three calls. Unknown numbers. All asking about her brother.”
The room stills. Not surprised.
Just…focused.
Across the table, Dom leans forward. “Worded how?”
Landon glances at his notes. “First one asked if she’d heard from him. Second hung up after a few seconds. Third pushed a little more, asked if he’d tried to contact her or show up anywhere recently.”
Blaze lets out a low breath. “That’s not random.”
“No,” Landon says. “It’s not.”
Logan’s gaze sharpens. “Any threats?”
“Not directly. Tone wasn’t friendly.”
“Numbers?”
“Burners.”
Of course they are.
No surprise there either. Burners mean intention. Not panic. Not random. Not some pissed off drunk asshole trying to stir the pot.
Intent.
I track the room while Landon talks. Not the words.
The men. Shadow’s expression doesn’t change, but his fingers tap once against his knee and stop.
Joker’s boot keeps bouncing under the table, not nerves, just impatience.
Blaze looks meaner every second this goes on, which doesn’t narrow much down since he usually looks like he’s deciding who to hurt first anyway.
Logan keeps his temper on a chain, but I can see the strain in his shoulders.
Nobody likes heat landing this close to the women.
Nobody likes someone reaching toward family.
Nobody likes the word RICO hanging in the air, even when no one says it out loud.
The room doesn’t feel tense to me. Tension is for people sitting in discomfort, waiting to see what breaks first. This is information. Pieces. Tone. Posture. Gaps.
I sort through all of it the same way I always do. What matters. What doesn’t. What fits. What’s off. Because it never really goes away.
Landon flips a page. “There’s more. Brynn said on the second call, before it disconnected, she could hear voices in the background. More than one. Male. Couldn’t make out what they were saying.”
Joker’s head tilts. “That the first time you were gonna mention that?”
“I was getting there.”
“You should’ve started there.”
Landon doesn’t even blink. “And yet, here we are.”
Blaze huffs a humorless laugh. Logan cuts both of them a look before it turns into noise.
“Background voices means it’s not just one guy poking around,” Shadow says.
“Could still be unofficial,” Dom adds. “Someone trying to build something instead of enforce it.”
“Or someone using the investigation as cover,” Blaze mutters.
That lands.
Because it fits too easy.
Logan pushes off the table and starts pacing, slow and controlled. “Brynn getting calls means somebody thinks her brother is still a point worth pressing. I don’t like that. I don’t like it at all.”
“You think it’s feds?” Hammer asks.
Logan shakes his head once. “If it was official, it wouldn’t look like this. Not sloppy. Not through random calls.”
“So what?” Joker says. “Somebody trying to connect dots they don’t have yet?”
“Maybe,” Dom says. “Or somebody who knows just enough to start digging.”
Landon glances up. “We’ve also had two people asking questions around town. Nothing aggressive. Just…curious. Same angle. Dark-haired guy, mid-build, tied to Brynn’s family.”
Blaze’s lip curls. “That’s not curiosity. That’s targeting.”
“Exactly,” Landon says.
I listen. Sort. Strip it down. Calls to Brynn. Questions about her brother. Voices in the background. People asking around town. That’s not pressure after the fact.
That’s build.
Logan stops pacing and looks around the table. “Let’s be clear about something. We’ve worked too damn hard to get some distance from that case. I’m not interested in anyone in this room giving somebody a reason to dig deeper because they can’t keep their head on straight.”
Joker leans back in his chair. “Hard to ignore when they’re poking at family.”
“That’s why I said no one moves sloppy,” Logan shoots back.
“Could use it,” Dom says. “If Brynn gets another call, keep them talking, see if we can trace—”
“Burners,” Landon reminds him.
“Burners can still slip if the timing’s right.”
Logan shakes his head. “We’re not using Brynn as bait.”
“No one said bait.”
“You didn’t have to.”
The room tightens for a second.
Shadow cuts in before it shifts. “Question is whether they’re probing or confirming.”
“Feels like probing,” Blaze says. “If they had something solid, they wouldn’t be asking like this.”
“Unless they’re checking reactions,” Joker adds. “Seeing who flinches.” That part matters. More than the rest.
I stay quiet. Because most of this is noise around one point.
Logan drags a breath through his nose. “We lay low.”
Joker snorts softly. “Define low.”
“No unnecessary runs. No side bullshit. No drawing attention because you’re bored or think you’ve got something to prove. We keep the women close. We keep eyes open. And we don’t give anyone watching a reason to look harder.”
Cain nods. “I’ll adjust rotations. Keep it quiet.”
“Do it.”
Blaze leans forward. “You think this ties directly back to the case?”
“I think it doesn’t matter,” Logan says. “If someone thinks there’s something there, they’ll keep digging until they either find it or hit something that makes them stop.”
“Or someone,” Hammer mutters.
Silence again.
I straighten slightly, boot scraping once against the floor.
Logan’s eyes cut to me. “You got something?”
I do.
Not a theory. A conclusion. “If they’re asking, they’re looking.” The words land clean.
No extra. No explanation.
The room shifts.
Logan studies me. “Meaning.”
I hold his stare. “Meaning they don’t have what they need yet. If they did, they wouldn’t be calling Brynn. They’d already be moving. Calls like that are pressure. Probing. They’re checking reactions, seeing who tightens up, who starts moving different.”
Joker mutters, “Fishing.”
“No,” I say. “Targeting.” That quiet hits again. Different this time.
Landon leans back slightly. “That tracks.”
I keep going because it matters. “They’re narrowing. Every call, every question in town, it’s about finding leverage. If they think her brother opens a door, they’ll keep pushing until they see what moves.”
Blaze’s jaw tightens. “So we don’t move.”
“Not where they can see it.”
Shadow nods once. “Adjust without showing adjustment.”
“Exactly,” I say.
Logan exhales slowly, thinking it through. “Alright. No visible disruption unless necessary. Tighten what matters. Keep everything else looking normal.”
Cain’s already making notes. “I can shift things without it being obvious.”
Dom nods. “I’ll keep digging the technical side. See if anything lines up with the calls.”
Joker cracks his knuckles. “And if one of these assholes gets within reach?”
Logan’s voice goes cold. “Then you handle it without lighting a fire we can’t put out.”
Blaze stands, pushing his chair back. “That’s gonna be fun.”
“Didn’t say it would be.”
Jimmy rises slower. “We’ll know more soon.”
Joker smirks. “You always say that.”
“Because it’s always true.”
Logan pushes off the table and straightens to full height. “Then this is done. Keep your people close. Stay sharp. And for the love of Christ, if any of you feel the urge to do something reckless, go hit a wall until it passes.”
“That wall gonna volunteer?” Joker asks.
“I’m looking at it,” Logan says.
That gets a rough chuckle from a couple men, barely enough to cut the edge.
Church breaks after that in pieces.
Chairs scrape back. Boots drag over old wood. Paper gets gathered. Curses trade low and brief as men move toward the door in clusters, still talking, still thinking, still carrying the same ugly question out with them that came in.
I stand there longer while the room empties around me. Not because I need a moment. Because endings tell you more than meetings do.
Joker heads out with Hammer, shoulders tight, already halfway into the kind of mood that usually ends with blood on somebody.
Blaze lingers near Shadow just long enough to throw a smartass comment I don’t catch before they both leave, Shadow unmoved, Blaze amused by his own bullshit.
Dom says something quiet to Landon near the table and points at one of the papers, already shifting into problem solving mode.
Logan remains where he is, hands on hips now, staring at the grain of the table like he can force it to give him answers.