Page 53 of Claimed By the Bikers
“Copy that. I’ll coordinate with Jake’s people, make sure we have eyes on all the major routes.”
After ending the call, I stare out my office window at the restaurant’s morning crowd. Retirees nursing coffee, local contractors grabbing breakfast before job sites, families with kids who don’t know their pancakes are subsidized by medical supply profits. Normal people living normal lives, unaware that their quiet mountain town has just become a potential battlefield.
I pull up the contact list on my phone and start making calls.
“Tommy, it’s Atlas. I need you and your crew to start rotating shifts. Eight-hour watches, with a minimum of two people on duty at all times… We might have company soon, and I want to make sure our friends stay safe… Good man.”
“Jake, we need to talk about perimeter security. Can you meet me at the warehouse in an hour?… Cartel movement. Los Serpientes… I know, I know. We’ll handle it.”
“Marco, I need extra eyes on the restaurant. Starting today, someone should always have a line of sight on the main building… Yeah, that kind of protection. Just until we know what we’re dealing with.”
By noon, I’ve repositioned our entire security network. Extra men on the supply routes, increased surveillance around the restaurant, backup protocols for evacuating vulnerable families if things go sideways. The kind of planning I haven’t done since Afghanistan, when every day brought new threats and every decision carried life-or-death consequences.
“Everything alright?” Ember asks during a brief lull, settling into the chair across from my desk. “The whole place feels like it’s on high alert.”
“Just being cautious.”
“About what?”
I study her face, trying to decide how much to reveal. She’s proven her loyalty, chosen our side over her former agency, and integrated into our operation and our lives. But involving her in a potential cartel conflict feels like crossing another line, putting her in danger that goes beyond FBI investigations and federal charges.
“There’s been some unusual activity in the area. People are asking questions, and unfamiliar vehicles are on our supply routes. Probably nothing, but I prefer to be prepared.”
“What kind of people?”
“The kind who don’t like sharing territory.”
Her eyes sharpen with understanding. “Drug dealers?”
“Cartels. Mexican operation looking to expand north into Arizona. They may see our activities as competition or opportunity, depending on how much they know.”
“Do they know about the medical supplies?”
“We don’t think so. But they know something moves through Wolf Pike on a regular schedule, and that’s enough to make them curious.”
She leans back in her chair, processing this information. “How serious is the threat?”
“Serious enough that I want extra security around our key assets.”
“I hope I’m not included.”
“Of course you are.”
“Atlas, I’m FBI-trained. I can handle myself in dangerous situations.”
“I know you can. That doesn’t mean I’m comfortable putting you at risk.”
“You’re not putting me at risk. I chose to be here, chose to be part of this operation. That means accepting the dangers that come with it.”
My phone buzzes with a text from Rico:Two more vehicles spotted near the lumber mill. Definitely watching our territory.
“I have to go,” I tell Ember, standing and reaching for my jacket. “Marco will handle the dinner shift. I want you to stay close to the restaurant tonight, no unnecessary trips into town.”
“Atlas—”
“This isn’t negotiable. Not until we know what we’re dealing with.”
Her jaw tightens, but she nods. “Fine. But I want to know what’s happening as it develops. No keeping me in the dark to protect my feelings.”
