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“Of course I do,” I said. “It’s a safety precaution.”

She paused briefly, then continued sliding pancakes onto the plate by the stove. “Should I be concerned about safety?”

“No,” I said. “But I generally like to be overprepared. Plus, you know Hawk’s eager to spend time with his nephew.”

“Uncle Hawk’s cool, but he’s not as cool as you, Dad.”

“Make sure you tell him that,” I said with a grin. Pride swelled in my chest. Dylan thinking I was cool ranked right up there with becoming alpha of Lakeview.

“Donot,” Harley said with a laugh, brandishing her spatula at Dylan.

I took my coffee and headed back upstairs. As I got dressed, I saw Hawk and Striker pull up. When I descended the stairs, Harley gave me a little wave from where she was washing the dishes. She’d put on jeans. I already missed the sight of her bare legs. I took a step toward the kitchen instinctively, because I wanted to kiss her goodbye—then realized what I was doing and turned away. “I’ll be back this afternoon. Don’t have too much fun without me.”

“I won’t!” Dylan shouted from his room.

I blinked. Man, that kid had a set of lungs on him.

Harley laughed.

Fuck, I didn’t want to leave her. But I had to handle this issue with our supplier, so I headed outside, where Striker was waiting next to his inconspicuous SUV. Hawk leaned against his motorcycle and gave me a salute as I passed.

“Everything all right?” Striker asked as I got in the passenger seat.

“Fine,” I said. “Let’s get this over with.”

We drove southwest, away from the mountains, toward Rochester and the Canadian border. Outside Rochester, Striker pulled off at the familiar custom furniture warehouse. It was a large, one-story building made of rusted, corrugated steel that advertised custom chairs and desks with faded signage. The door was locked, but I tapped in my keycode and the lock hummed and opened.

“I hate this place,” Striker muttered as we stepped inside. “Smells like a goddamn hamster cage.”

I snorted. He wasn’t wrong. The inside of the warehouse was dim and smelled like wood shavings. Somewhere in the far back of the warehouse, a buzzsaw whirred. The heels of my boots echoed as I strode across the unfinished concrete floors.

“Michel!” I called into the empty space. “Let’s talk this through. No need for the theatrics.”

“Ah, there you are.” The sawing stopped. Michel appeared from behind some half-finished cabinets. He pushed his safety goggles up, revealing his keen, pale eyes. Michel was a mousy, conniving French Canadian with a lot of connections to gunrunners in South America. Typically, he gave us no problems—but my dragon had already noted the presence of a half-dozen of his guys scattered around the edges of the warehouse. And all of them were certainly armed to the teeth.

“So.” Michel dropped the saw unceremoniously to the concrete floor with aclank. “I assume you heard about our little problem with the recent shipment?”

“I did. I want you to know our clan had nothing to do with that. We’ve had a good partnership until now, and you know?—”

Michel waved a hand. “Please, Ace, I know you wouldn’t jerk me around like that. But you know I can’t just let this kind of loss go.”

I grimaced. This was what I was afraid of. The clan had well-stocked coffers, but paying for a lossthislarge…

“I’m tired of dealing with your asshole brother,” Michel said. “I’m not interested in the money. I want him out of the picture for good this time, Ace.”

Striker gave me a sidelong glance. I crossed my arms over my chest and leveled my gaze at Michel. “For good?”

“Sean and his…” Michel sucked his teeth as he searched for the English word. “Compatriotsare bad news. You know it as well as I do. If we let this happen once, it will keep happening. I can’t let your brother affect my other contracts, especially now.”

“Now?” Striker asked.

“You’re going clean!” Michel threw his arms up as if it was the most irritating thing he’d ever heard. “Word travels fast. I know you’ve been trying to get out of our line of work for a while, but I never thought it’d actually happen. That’s a big loss of revenue for me, Ace.”

“I don’t doubt your ability to find new customers, Michel,” I said.

“That will do me no good if your brother keeps interfering with my shipments.”

I hummed in acknowledgment. He had a point.