Page 26 of Ruger's Rage

"We need to respond," Porter argues, our treasurer’s aggression is coming out thick. "Show strength."

"No." I cut through the rising tension. "We respond smart. Bloodhound, I want surveillance on all our assets. Maddox, double patrols on our territory. They’re slipping in somehow and I want to know how."

"And Striker?" Bloodhound asks.

"Keep gathering intel. When we move, it'll be with complete information."

After church, I find myself staring at Backroads' financial papers in my office.

The numbers tell a story—Ellie refusing to sell, cutting corners, doubling down on her independence.

Pride. It's a family trait.

My phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number:

This is Tildie. Ellie gave me your number. Can I ask you something?

Me:

Sure.

Tildie:

Why did you really offer to buy the bar?

I should give her a business answer.

Club needs, money laundering, strategic positioning. Instead, I type:

Me:

Because losing that bar would break Ellie, and I've seen enough of her broken.

Three dots appear, then disappear.

Tildie:

Your aunt says you're one of the good ones. I hope she's right.

The honesty surprises me.

Me:

Why did you stay when Ellie cut your pay?

Tildie:

She needed me. Sometimes you show up for people even when it doesn't make financial sense.

The answer fits everything I'm learning about her.

Loyal to a tee.

Me:

Smart and beautiful. Dangerous combination.

No response. I curse myself for overstepping.

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