15. Razor
Razor
They’re back by noon.
I hear the bike before I see it, that familiar rumble of Hawk’s Harley coming up the access road, cutting through the quiet of the forest. I’m on the porch cleaning my rifle when they pull up, and I know immediately that something’s changed between them.
It’s in the small things. The way Jade climbs off the bike without waiting for Hawk to steady her, like she’s suddenly aware that touching him means something different now.
The way Hawk cuts the engine and doesn’t look at her, just focuses on securing the kickstand with more attention than necessary.
The careful distance they’re keeping, like there’s an invisible line drawn between them that neither wants to cross in front of witnesses.
Something happened on that ride.
Shadow appears beside me with coffee in hand, and I know he sees it too because he goes still, watching them with that assessing look he gets when he’s reading people.
“They’re back,” he says quietly.
“Yeah.”
“Took longer than expected.”
“Yeah, they did.” I set the rifle down, keeping my eyes on Jade as she heads straight for the cabin door without a word to anyone. No goodbye to Hawk, no acknowledgment that he just spent four hours on a bike with her.
Just gone, like she can’t get away fast enough.
Hawk takes his time with the bike. Checks the oil even though he checked it this morning. Adjusts mirrors that don’t need adjusting. Wipes down chrome that’s already clean.
Stalling.
Shadow makes a low sound in the back of his throat. “You see it?”
“Hard to miss.”
“Think they?—”
“Don’t know.” I pick up the rifle again and start reassembling it. “Don’t care.”
But that’s a lie, and Shadow knows it. We both care because whatever happened between Hawk and Jade on that ride changes the dynamic of this whole situation, and dynamics matter when you’re planning an operation that could get everyone killed.
Hawk finally comes up the porch steps. He still doesn’t meet our eyes, just pushes past us toward the door. “Mason’s safe. Jade saw him. Everything went fine.”
“Good,” I say, watching his back.
“We need to plan.” He pauses with his hand on the door. “All of us. Now.”
Then he’s inside before either of us can ask questions.
Shadow looks at me and raises an eyebrow. I shrug. Whatever happened, Hawk’s not ready to talk about it, which means it’s personal and probably complicated and definitely something that’s going to come back to bite us in the ass later.
But later’s not now, so we follow him inside.
Jade’s in the kitchen pouring water with hands that are steady, but there’s tension in her shoulders, in the set of her spine, in the way she’s holding herself like she’s bracing for something.
She doesn’t look at Hawk when he enters.
Doesn’t look at any of us, actually, just focuses on filling her glass like it’s the most important task in the world.
Yeah. Something definitely happened.
Hawk’s already at the table, spreading out papers and maps like this is just another tactical session and not a conversation happening in the wake of whatever shifted between him and the woman we kidnapped five days ago.
Maybe for him, it is just tactics. Hawk’s good at compartmentalizing, at putting feelings in boxes and focusing on the mission. It’s what makes him a good leader. It’s also what makes him shit at relationships, but that’s a different problem.
Shadow takes a seat across from Hawk. I lean against the counter with my arms crossed, positioning myself where I can watch everyone’s faces and read the room.
“We can’t keep reacting,” Hawk starts, his voice all business. “Every move we’ve made so far has been defensive. We need to go on offense.”
“Agreed,” I say. “What’s the play?”
“Tyler’s the problem. Remove Tyler, and the war de-escalates. Ruthless Saints lose their main agitator, Feds lose their primary target, and Jade’s free to disappear.”
Jade turns from the sink, glass in hand. “How do you plan to remove him?”
Hawk looks at her, and there’s something in that look that confirms what I already suspected. Whatever happened on that ride, it involved touching and probably kissing and definitely crossed lines that can’t be uncrossed.
“By proving he’s dirty,” Hawk says. “By giving the Ruthless Saints a reason to handle him themselves instead of us having to do it.”
I push off the counter and come to the table because this sounds like it might actually be a workable plan. “Explain.”
“Tyler’s been dealing on the side. Skimming from the Ruthless Saints to cover losses from failed deals.
” Hawk taps the table. “The gun deal that went south Friday night? That was supposed to be his big payday. He owed people money and needed that cash to cover his debts. Now he’s desperate, and desperate men make mistakes. ”
“How do you know all this?” Shadow asks.
Hawk looks at Jade again. She sets down her glass and comes to join us at the table, taking the chair farthest from Hawk even though there’s an empty one right next to him.
That tells me everything I need to know about her headspace right now.
“I know because I watched him do it for four years,” she says quietly, and there’s steel in her voice that wasn’t there a few days ago.
“I know because he bragged about how smart he was, how the club would never figure it out because they were all too stupid. I know because he made me memorize passwords to his laptop in case something happened to him and he needed someone to access his files.”
The room goes quiet for a beat.
“He keeps records?” I ask, leaning forward with interest now because records mean evidence and evidence means leverage.
“Everything. Deals, payments, contacts, people he’s paid off, people who owe him money.” Her jaw tightens. “He thinks it’s insurance in case the club ever turns on him. Documentation he can use to bring other people down with him if they try to take him out.”
“But it’s also evidence that could bring him down,” Shadow says slowly, seeing where this is going.
“Exactly,” Jade confirms.
I study her across the table. She’s not scared about this.
Not hesitant or uncertain. She’s focused, calculating, already thinking through the logistics of how to make this happen.
There’s a coldness in her eyes when she talks about Tyler that tells me whatever love she might have felt for him once is long dead and buried.
Good. Emotion makes people sloppy. Anger and calculation make people sharp.
“Where’s the laptop?” I ask.
“His apartment. He keeps it in a lockbox under the bed.” She doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t have to think about it. “Same apartment we lived in together before I left. He wouldn’t move because he’s too attached to his territory.”
“Security on the building?” Shadow pulls out his phone, probably already looking up the address.
“Standard apartment complex. Three floors, his place is on the second. Fire escape in the back, main entrance in front with a security door, but the lock’s been broken for months and the landlord’s too cheap to fix it.
” She pauses. “I used to live there for three years. I know every exit, every blind spot, every neighbor’s schedule. ”
I’m impressed despite myself. Most people in her situation would be falling apart, but she’s giving us tactical intel like she’s done this before.
“You know how to get in?” I ask.
“There’s a spare key hidden in the fake plant by the back door.
Second floor landing, right side. Tyler put it there when we first moved in because he was always losing his keys when he was drunk.
” Her mouth twists. “He never changed it after I left because he’s too arrogant to think I’d ever have the balls to cross him. ”
“You sure it’s still there?”
“Unless he moved the plant or suddenly got smart, yeah.” She meets my eyes. “He’s predictable. Creatures of habit are easy to track.”
Shadow looks at Hawk. “This could actually work.”
“It’s risky,” Hawk says, and I can hear the reluctance in his voice. He doesn’t want to send her back into Tyler’s territory, doesn’t want to put her in danger, and that right there tells me exactly how deep he’s already in with her. “If Tyler’s there when she shows up?—”
“He won’t be,” Jade interrupts, and there’s certainty in her voice that comes from experience.
“Wednesday afternoon, he’s always at the clubhouse dealing with Ruthless Saints business.
Mandatory officers’ meeting every Wednesday at two PM, runs until at least five.
He’s never missed it in four years because missing it means looking weak, and Tyler would rather die than look weak in front of his club. ”
“What if he changed his routine after you left?” I ask, playing devil’s advocate, because someone needs to poke holes in this plan before we commit to it.
“He hasn’t.” She doesn’t blink.
I respect that. The certainty. The willingness to bet her life on her knowledge of Tyler’s patterns. It takes either confidence or desperation, and with Jade, I’m starting to think it’s both.
“Walk me through it,” I say, settling into my chair. “Every detail. Entry, exit, contingencies. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”
For the next hour, we plan.
Jade describes the building layout in detail.
The first floor has four apartments, mostly elderly residents who don’t pay attention to who comes and goes.
Second floor is Tyler’s floor, six apartments total.
He is in 2C, middle of the hall. The third floor is where most of the trouble happens, lots of turnover, people who mind their own business because they’ve got their own shit to hide.
She draws a map from memory, marking exits and sight lines and places where someone could hide if things went wrong. Her hand is steady the whole time, her voice calm and factual. No emotion, just information.