Page 31 of Ruger's Rage

"Fair enough." He nods, respect in his expression. "I can work with that."

"I'm not a project."

"Never said you were." He finishes his pie, pushing the plate forward. "You're a woman who deserves to feel safe. I respect that."

Before I can respond, Ellie emerges from the kitchen. "Ryan, honey! Didn't hear you come in."

"Just going over some details with the banker. We should be ready for you now."

I watch them head to the booth, feeling oddly alone in his absence.

How does he do that?

Create a bubble where the rest of the world fades, then leave me disoriented when it pops?

For the next hour, I serve other customers while taking a peek at their meeting every once in a while.

Serious faces, papers passed back and forth, signatures. The formal transfer of Ellie's dream into Ruger's hands.

When they finish, the banker shakes hands all around and leaves.

Ruger approaches the bar again, looking pleased. "All set for now. Just waiting on final approval."

"That was fast."

He nods, keeping his tone neutral. "The club has connections."

I don't want to know what kind of connections speed up bank approvals. Some things are better left unquestioned.

"Ellie seemed happy," I offer.

"She's relieved. Bar stays open, she keeps managing and staying upstairs, you keep your job, and the trailer out back. Wins all around for everyone."

"And what does the club win?"

His eyes sharpen, appreciating that I'm not looking away from the obvious question. "Legitimate business. Territory security. Goodwill."

I nod, understanding the unspoken part, too—money laundering, probably.

Convenient base of operations.

None of it sounds particularly sinister, which is almost disappointing.

I've built up the Saint's Outlaws in my mind based on what I know of the Grim Vultures.

"Ellie says you take lunch around two," he says. "Walk with me?"

My first instinct is to refuse. Walking alone with him feels too vulnerable, too much like dating.

But isn't that the point? To test him, to see if he's really different?

"Okay," I agree, surprising us both. "Just a short one."

Right at two, I hang up my apron and meet him outside.

The afternoon is warm but not yet stifling, hints of summer fading into early fall.

"Where to?" I ask.

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