Page 12 of Notorious

But this club is the only thing that kept me going after I was shoved out of the Army and the shit that went down there. If I left Defiance for Livvy, and all I had to focus on was the shit that’s gone wrong in my life, I think that would send me into a downward spiral I could never come back from.

It’s better this way.

We’re better this way.

Walking out into the clubhouse, the guys are gathered for breakfast, and I take my seat in the usual position. I like routine—sitting in the same place every morning and eating the same breakfast served by the same club girl.

Ineedroutine.

Maybe that’s the Army coming out in me. Maybe it’s because I like to know what’s coming so I don’t have the wool pulled out from under me. I’ve had enough for one lifetime. Structure and routine are what keep me grounded.

Navy steps up, a bright smile on her gorgeous face. Her long, flowing, brunette hair cascading around her petite shoulders, which are covered in her usual leather jacket, looks particularly shiny today. “Morning, Pres. How’d you sleep?” she asks, placing my bacon, eggs, and protein shake in front of me.

I dip my head. “Same as always, Navy.”

She grips my shoulder and squeezes. “You need to lay off the caffeine before bed. Might help you sleep better.”

I snort out a laugh because she and I both know she doesn’t mean caffeine but more like tequila. I grip her hand on my shoulder and nod. “Yeah… you’re probably right. You got much planned for today?”

“Just the usual maintenance around the clubhouse. Though I need to start thinking about adding in some baby essentials into the shopping so we have it all ready for when Ingrid and South’s baby comes.”

“We have time.” I snort out a laugh. “Navy, talk to Ingrid, see what she wants. Work with her, okay?”

Navy nods. “Got it! Enjoy your breakfast, Pres.”

“Always do,” I tell her, and she walks back toward the kitchen.

I pick up a piece of crispy bacon, about to shove it into my mouth, when Swift slides into the seat beside me. I let out a huff, placing the bacon back on the plate, and turn to look at him with a brow raised. “This better be good, brother, because that bacon smells pretty fucking delicious.”

Swift chuckles, sliding a folder across the table toward me. “Imean, I get it. Bacon is fucking great, but I think what I have in this file is going to tasteso much fucking better.”

I slowly pull the file my way, then flip it open to see the telltale heron logo of the Rojas Cartel, my blood instantly boiling at the fucking sight. “What is this?” I ask.

Swift shifts closer, lowering his voice. “I’ve been digging, attempting to find something we can act on. It’s been years of trying to find a way to get some kind of payback on these assholes. Sure, we went in straight after in an effort to take them out, but they were so much bigger than us, and we had to retreat, and we’ve been chasing our tails ever since. I am sure we need to attack in smaller numbers. Take them out step by step, piece by piece, because we’ll never be able to take them on from the head of the beast. We will work our way up to it, picking away at them when we can until their numbers are small enough we can get to who we need to.”

My muscles tense, my skin pebbling in goose bumps, not because I’m scared, but because this is the best fucking plan we have had since Poppy’s death two years ago. It’s been eating at me, not being able to avenge her death. I’ve felt like a failure of a president and, more importantly, a failure of a father. I turn back to face Swift, a steely determination in my stare. “Tell me… tell me everything.”

He slides the folder open to the next page and points to the San Ysidro Southbound Inspection Point. “Here… I have intel that suggests the cartel uses this inspection point to cross over into Tijuana for their trade. If we can figure out the timing of their next shipment, we can intercept them before they get to that point. There are a couple of options. We either take out their men and snatch their shipment or alert border control that the shipment is coming, so they are seized at the crossing.”

“Or there’s a third option,” I tell him, and he raises his brow in question. I continue, “There will probably be three men onboard, so we kill two, burn the shipment, and send the third back to tell Rico Rojas we’re coming for him.”

“That’s a risky play…” Swift rubs his bearded chin. “You want to tell Rico that you’re out to get him? Don’t you want to do this more stealthily so they don’t know who is targeting them. We don’t want them to retaliate when we’re not ready to fight back in numbers, Pres.”

Grumbling under my breath, the fucker is right. I want nothing more than to send a glaring message to Rico that I am coming for him, but we have to play this smart. “Dammit! This asshole has the numbers. That’s our problem… so yeah, you’re right. We need to attack this shipment, take out his men, and stop the shipment from making it across the border to disrupt his distribution. That will infuriate him because we all know if the cartel’s distribution lines are stopped, Rico won’t get a payday. And if there is one thing Rico likes most in this world…”

“It’s money,” Swift finishes my sentence for me.

I snort out a mocking laugh. “Exactly! I need to talk to Loki, get him to figure out when this shipment is leaving for the border.”

Swift grips my shoulder, his eyes glaring in on me. “Alpha, I know you. Don’t forget, we’re your brothers. Let us help you with this.”

My stomach rolls in tension as I dip my head. “Let me talk to Loki. See what he can find out.”

Swift sinks back into his chair. “I didn’t bring you this information so you could go on a kamikaze mission, Pres.”

“That’s not what I’m doing. If I need the help, I’ll ask for it,” I grumble back.

“You can’t singlehandedly take down the Rojas Cartel. It’s just not feasible—”

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