Chapter 4 #2
The cafeteria was quiet at this hour. He put together a plate with a sandwich and grabbed a protein shake from the cooler.
“Eat,” he said, putting the tray in front of her before he sat back down.
He expected an argument, but didn’t get one.
She didn’t talk while she ate, and he didn’t push for conversation.
He was careful not to stare at her hair, now down around her shoulders since she’d lost her holder in the fight.
Or watch her lips as she licked them after taking a drink.
Or wonder if she had any more tatts hiding under her clothes.
She was most of the way through the plate when she said, “I want to make a deal.”
He sat back. This ought to be good . “I’m listening.”
“Mom’s been asking me to bring someone on for months, and I need to keep her safe.” She set down the drink. “I want you to pose as a bartender.”
“To protect your mom.”
She nodded and finished off the last bite of the sandwich. “My bar. My rules. Every operational decision goes through me. You’re there to keep Mom safe, but don’t let on that’s why I hired you.”
She paused as if waiting for his agreement.
“Okay.”
Regan fiddled with the drink bottle. “She’s the priority. The second priority is to help me protect the bar. I know the threats are going to escalate even more. I need to do what I can to make sure we keep it.” Her voice dropped. “It’s all she has left of my dad.”
That would be tougher. It was easy to set a building on fire. To shoot out its windows, break a water line to flood it, pull strings to have it condemned. He’d have to be creative. “Agreed.”
She waited, clearly expecting more. “That’s it? No negotiating? Do you even know anything about mixing drinks?”
“You’re asking me to go undercover as a bartender to keep your mother safe. You’re the boss, I answer to you. Those are reasonable terms. And yes, I make a mean espresso martini.”
She blinked a couple of times. “Okay, then. We need to talk about your fees. I don’t have a lot of extra money.”
He waved a hand in dismissal. “SPS offers payment plans. We’ll work it out.”
“There’s something else I should tell you,” she said.
Her tone suggested he should brace himself. “Shoot.”
She looked at the tray and drew a deep breath. “I’ve been building another season of the podcast around an investigation on the Canon Outlaws that’s bigger than the Ray Briggs series. The full picture of what they’ve been doing under Ryder’s leadership.”
Everything inside CB went still.
She kept going. “Extortion, obviously. But also money laundering through three front businesses, a chop shop operation outside of the county, and connections to a supply chain I’m still tracing.
I have sources. I have documents. I have recorded conversations.
” She paused. “I’m telling you because you should know what you’re walking into.
And because if you’re going to be in my bar, you’re going to see me working on it. ”
The silence stretched.
He knew what the Outlaws were. He didn’t excuse what they did. He’d made his own choices at eighteen specifically because he couldn’t excuse some of it.
But this was different.
Yes, his uncle Ray had made his bed and ended up in prison. But CB’s father wasn’t clean. He’d run the organization for nearly thirty years, taking it over from his own father.
Even though Wade had stepped back before the worst of Ryder’s operation had started, his past would be part of the picture. At sixty, post-stroke, with his memory coming and going—the thought of his father in a courtroom, or in a cell, made his chest squeeze down hard.
And there were others in that organization who existed in the complicated space between what the Outlaws were and what some of those men had been to him as a kid.
They made their choices .
He knew that. He believed it.
He just needed a minute to consider what Regan’s investigation might mean for them and their families.
“I’d like your help,” she said quietly, “to bring down the corrupt. That’s the only way my mother and I will ever be safe. The only way this county—its businesses, its law enforcement, its families—can reclaim their freedom from Ryder. From his gang.”
His gang. Not your gang .
She wasn’t wrong, but it was a gut punch, nevertheless. “You want me to betray my dad and all those people?”
Her sable eyes locked on his. “I want you to stand up for what’s right.”
He sat forward, put his elbows on his knees, and rubbed a hand over his face. Damn, he was tired. “I’ll keep Lucy safe. I’ll watch the bar.” He met her eyes. “The investigation—I need to think about that. I’m not saying no, but… I won’t lie to you. You’re asking a lot.”
She nodded, her gaze returning to the tray. Disappointment laced her words. “At least you’re honest.”
“It’s the best I’ve got right now.”
She picked up the protein shake, took a long pull, and set it down. “I want to go home when this is done,” she said, nodding at the IV.
“I’ll drive you.”
“I have a car.”
“Your car is in the bar parking lot. I’ll drive you, and someone will get your car in the morning.”
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Decided this wasn’t the battle to pick. “Fine,” she said.
He almost smiled. Didn’t.
She finished the shake in silence. He sat with the full weight of what she’d told him—the investigation, the months of work, the recorded conversations, documents, and sources—and let it settle into the operational picture he was building.
Ryder’s name was at the center of it. The chop shop.
The money laundering. The supply chain she was still tracing.
Wade at the edges of it.
One thing at a time. Keep her and Lucy safe. Then figure out the rest .
The IV drip was steady and quiet. Regan’s color was good now, the sharp angles of her exhaustion softened by the food and the fluids. She leaned back and closed her eyes. A moment later, she was asleep.
He’d faced terrorists, criminals, and death more than once.
He’d never faced anyone like her.
She’s going to be a problem , he told himself.
And he didn’t have a clue how to handle her.