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So, she did the only thing that gave her a slim chance of having her dad agree to let her stay. She said, "Please."

Her heart pounded. She never begged anyone for anything.

Even though she was twenty-four, she lived within Havlin Motorcycle Club. Everything had to be approved by her dad. Even when she lived with Mama Sue, her dad had the final say over her care from inside the prison walls.

It would be a different story if she cut ties with the club. But she would never walk away from family.

"Stay under the protection of Havlin," he muttered.

"Thanks, Dad." She disconnected the call before he could change his mind.

Shooting a smile across the parking lot toward Jagger, all the adrenaline coiled in her stomach when she watched him take his phone from his pocket and hold it to his ear. Two seconds later, his gaze snapped at her.

God damn, son-of-a-bitch. Her dad had called Jagger less than thirty seconds after talking to her and ratted her out.

She turned and found Cora waiting in front of the van. "Hey, you ready?"

It was even more vital for her to get out of there and away from Jagger. He'd need time to cool off before accepting that she would hang around for longer.

"Yeah. Just follow me." Cora walked toward the driver's door.

Katrina hurried and got in the car, starting the vehicle. She needed to slip out of sight and let Jagger calm down.

She wasn't staying at the club yet. Going to Cora's house was her only option. Jagger had the final say over club business but had no say in family matters.

Chapter Seven

SEVERAL LOW WHISTLES went off around the table in the Havlin clubhouse. Jagger slid an AR-15 semi-automatic in front of them and pointed for Bane to pass it around.

Dio leaned over, inspecting the rifle as Bane sighted down the barrel. "No markings?"

Jagger shook his head. "A gift from Moroad Motorcycle Club over in Federal, Idaho."

"It's not Christmas." Maverick leaned back in his chair, letting Cord pass the rifle in front of him to Dio. "Isn't there another MC selling guns in Idaho?"

"Bantorus." Jagger shrugged. "Legal ones."

Dio rubbed the stock. "This one doesn't even have a scratched-out serial."

"It's a blank." Jagger sat back down in the chair. "Moroad supplies the majority of the weapons to the underground."

"Sweet." Cord put the rifle back in front of Jagger. "Nicer than the military."

"This gift is why I called the meeting." Jagger clasped his hands behind his head. "Moroad is expanding but has run out of resources to launder the money from the guns. Since we run security on the pot shops along highway 101. They want to know if we'd like to work with them."

"For how much?" asked Bane.

"Forty percent." Jagger fingered the tip of the barrel.

"No way." Dio shook his head. "They aren't known for sharing, so why offer us that percentage?"

"Because the pot shops are in Havlin territory, and there's nothing Moroad can do about taking that zone away from us." He leaned back in the chair. "Most of them can't leave the state. They only have a handful of men who can cross the line without breaking probation."

Bane scratched his jaw through his beard. "Will we touch the guns?"

Jagger pulled out a cigarette and tapped the filter against the table. "Nope, only the cash. What happens between these four walls remains tight. We already have enough manpower and enough businesses to run cash rolls. Three pot shops alone could handle the cash flow without raising eyebrows, and we are in control of six of them."

"I got another kid coming in three months. Count me in." Rush raised his hand.

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