Chapter Ten
Mia
“Mama, have you seen my right boot?”
I grab my purse from the hook by the mudroom door, then spot the missing boot tipped sideways beneath the bench.
“How in the world did you get your boots in two separate locations, honey?” I ask, handing it to her.
Livy hops on one foot as she pulls it on. “I had to pee really bad when I wore them last, and I was in a rush. But I remembered my country-girl manners and took them off before running through the house.”
“Country-girl manners, huh?” I chuckle. “Do those manners include keeping your cute little country-girl nose out of my dating life?”
Her head snaps up, and I realize my mistake immediately.
“Dating life?” she asks.
“I didn’t say dating life.”
“Yes, you did.”
“I said daily life.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I might have.”
“You definitely did not.”
I close my eyes for half a second. “Livy.”
She grins while tugging her backpack onto one shoulder. “Are you dating Mr. Maverick?”
“No.”
“Do you want to date Mr. Maverick?”
“No.”
She tilts her head.
I sigh. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you know things.”
“I do know things.”
“You’re ten.”
“I know ten years of things.”
I have to turn away so she doesn’t see my smile and think she won this round.
“Come on,” I say. “We’re late. And since they haven’t decided whether to suspend you, we don’t want to risk drawing more attention. So please try not to start any more fights.”
“I make no promises, Mama,” she says, her chin held high. “If stupid-face Eric says more mean things to my friends, then I’ll have no other choice but to protect them.”
“You do have other choices.”
“Maybe boring ones.”
“Livy.”
“What?” She lifts her hands like this is all perfectly reasonable. “I run a sanctuary after all. I was made to protect things.”
My heart trips.
Not because she’s being dramatic but because she means every word.
I crouch in front of her and straighten the strap of her backpack. “Baby, protecting people is good. It’s important. But you can’t protect someone by putting yourself in the line of fire. Who will be there to protect the next person?”
Her chin wobbles just a little. “Sabrina was crying.”
“I know.”
“He spit on her.”
“I know, honey.”
“She looked scared.”
“I know,” I whisper.
Livy’s eyes search mine. “So what was I supposed to do?”
There it is. The question I still don’t know how to answer.
Because the mother in me wants to say, find a teacher. Use your words. Walk away.
But the woman in me knows exactly why she shoved that boy.
I take her small face in my hands. “You did the right thing by standing up for Sabrina. But next time, I need you to get an adult first if you can.”
“And if I can’t?”
I smooth my thumbs over her cheeks.
“The only reason you wouldn’t be able to get an adult is if you or someone else is in immediate danger,” I say, hating the thought alone.
“If that happens, you use that very smart country-girl brain of yours. You stop for one second. You look around. You think fast. Then you make the safest choice you can.”
Livy watches me closely.
“I trust your gut,” I tell her. “And I trust your heart. Both of them are good.”
Her mouth trembles a little before she presses it flat.
“But, baby, trusting you doesn’t mean I want you running headfirst into trouble.”
“I didn’t run headfirst,” she mutters.
I arch a brow.
She looks down at her boots. “Maybe shoulder-first.”
A laugh slips out of me before I can stop it.
Livy smiles, just a little.
I kiss her forehead. “No more shoulder-first justice unless there is absolutely no other choice.”
“That sounds like a rule you just made up.”
“It is. I’m a mom. I’m allowed to do that.”
“Can we write it down on the official Sanctuary rule list?”
“No.”
“Because then you’d have to follow it too?”
I open my mouth.
Close it again.
Lord help me, this child.
“Get in the car, Olivia,” I say, which only makes her laugh.
Ten going on thirty, that one.
***Maverick***
Melvin’s message wasn’t an immediate threat.
But it was concerning enough to put every man in the room on edge.
“Okay,” Tank says, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “So he heard someone over the radio while he was in the air say the target was the Palm Springs compound?”
I nod. “That was all he caught clearly.”
Crusher frowns from across the room. “The Palm Springs compound could mean a lot of places.”
“Only one place in Palm Springs called The Compound,” I remind him.
Tank’s expression hardens.
“He couldn’t make out much more than that,” I continue. “The signal kept cutting in and out. Once he was close enough to reach our radio, he contacted me.”
“Was that a good idea?” Max asks. “If he heard their chatter, maybe they heard his.”
“Not likely,” Foster says. “If he had to wait until he had enough signal to reach Maverick, then by the time he called in, he was probably already out of their range.”
“Probably?” Tank asks.
Foster shrugs. “Radio isn’t magic. Terrain, altitude, frequency, equipment, weather, all of it matters. But based on what Maverick said, I’d guess Melvin caught the edge of something. He wasn’t sitting in the middle of it.”
“So we have nothing to go on?” Bones asks.
I shake my head. “Not unless the club has something happening I’m not aware of.” I glance around the room. “I tried to think of everyone you’ve made enemies with, but most of them are dead.”
Skip shrugs. “We still have suppliers. Dealers. People who use our routes. They’re not enemies, but they’re not exactly friends either.”
“Anything changed with shipments?” I ask.
“Everything is back to normal operating procedure,” Skip says. “Weapons are moving clean. Anyone wanting to carry product through our territory still pays for the privilege. No missed drops. No short payments. No new faces pushing for access.”
Foster leans back in his chair. “That almost sounds boring.”
“It is boring,” Spike says. “That’s why it works.”
I nod once, then look at Tank.
“What about Abby?”
Tank’s expression changes immediately.
“She’s in the spotlight more these days,” I say carefully. “Her clothing brand is gaining attention. Could be a stalker. Someone jealous. A competitor trying to scare her.”
“Abby’s in the spotlight by name only,” Tank says firmly. “Her work gets attention. Her face does not. My sanity couldn’t handle it if her picture was everywhere.”
“And I have her name on lockdown,” Foster adds. “Any mention of her, or anyone here at the compound, and I get alerted. The name that gets flagged the most is Spike’s. That’s because he’s the face of the Shadows.”
Spike’s jaw tightens. “Anything unusual with my name?”
“Nothing more than normal,” Foster says.
I look at him. “Define normal.”
“Mentions. Questions. People fishing for information. Where the compound is. Who comes in and out. How many men stay on-site.” Foster leans back in his chair. “Some of it’s random curiosity. Some of it’s idiots trying to sound connected.”
Tank’s expression hardens. “You didn’t think to mention that?”
“I mention it when it turns into something,” Foster says. “If I came running every time somebody online asked where the big bad bikers sleep, none of us would get anything done.”
Bones grunts. “He’s not wrong.”
“No clean threat?” I ask.
Foster shakes his head. “No. Nothing tied to a name. Nothing actionable. No dates. No plans. No one saying, ‘Hey, let’s go after the Shadows.’ Just meaningless noise.”
“But now we have Melvin hearing the word target,” Spike says.
“Now,” Foster agrees, “the noise matters. I’ll seed a few mentions. Nothing obvious. Just enough to see who bites.”
Tank narrows his eyes. “Meaning?”
“Meaning I’ll put the Shadows’ name in the right corners and watch who gets interested.” Foster leans back. “If someone is fishing for us, I want to know what bait they prefer.”
Bones grunts. “Just when things were getting back to normal.”
“You’re bored and you know it,” Skip says with a laugh. “You need a little action on the non-sexual side of your life. I know your sexual needs are being met because Sunny and I talk about it in great detail. All snuggled up on my couch, eating popcorn.”
Bones gives him one second.
That’s all.
Then he’s out of his chair and around the table, but Skip’s already gone.
“I guess the meeting’s over,” Spike says, shaking his head. “Dismissed.”
Following everyone out, I find a spot against the wall and settle in to watch the show.
“Skip,” Sunny calls, laughing as he ducks behind her, “what did you do this time?”
Skip plants his hands on her hips, using her as a shield.
A brave choice.
A stupid one, but brave.
Instead of moving Sunny aside and tossing Skip to the floor like we’ve seen him do a dozen times, Bones stops.
Then he smirks.
Interesting.
“Why’s he smirking?” Skip asks, his laughter fading. “Sunny. I think I’m in actual danger.”
Bones looks around the room, spots what he wants, then walks away from Sunny and Skip.
Skip’s eyes narrow. “Wait. Where’s he going?”
Bones reaches for the back of his shirt.
Skip straightens. “Hey. Why are you taking your shirt off?”
Bones tosses the shirt aside, walks straight to Eli, and stops beside him with a slow smile.
Eli’s eyes go wide.
Bones leans down and whispers something in his ear.
Eli blushes, and Skip loses his mind.
“Hey!” he shouts, still frozen behind Sunny. “Get away from my man.”
Sunny bends over laughing.
Bones says something else, too low for the rest of us to hear.
Eli reaches up and wipes the corner of his mouth.
“Oh, absolutely not,” Skip snaps. “Put your damn shirt back on. Pretty boy, you better tear those eyes away from his body. Bones, stop making my man blush. Are you flirting with him? You’re not even gay.”
Bones only smiles wider.
Because I’m apparently in the mood to encourage chaos, I remove my shirt too and make my way to Bones’s side.
Eli makes a strangled sound.
“Is it my birthday?” he whispers. Then he looks around the room. “Holy moly. Okay. Tank, Spike, Max, Foster, Crusher. Your turn.”
“Oh, I think not,” Skip says, finally unfreezing.
He storms over, slaps both hands over Eli’s eyes, and starts dragging him toward the door.
Eli laughs. “I can’t see.”
“Deal with it,” Skip says. “We’re going home, and I’m going to show you why my body is the only one you’ll ever need.”
Sunny is wheezing now.
Eli blindly pats at Skip’s arm. “Can I say goodbye first?”
“No.”
“But there are shirtless men.”
“Exactly.”
Laughing under my breath, I put my shirt back on and head for the door.
“Keep me updated, Spike,” I say over my shoulder.
“Will do, brother,” he says. “See you tomorrow.”