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“Send me,” Reaper’s gravelly voice rumbles through the room. He’s sitting away from the others toward the opposite end of the table. He doesn’t say another word, but his fists clench. He’s not much for talking, so when he does speak, the rest of us listen.

“I want to send you, but a couple of sheriff’s deputies came by this morning asking if we knew anything about the Hamilton murder. We don’t know anything about that, do we?” I ask pointedly.

“Hum,” Reaper growls. His black eyes dart from one face to the next. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but he doesn’t find it.

“Marc Hamilton is a piece of shit wife beater who got what he deserved,” Talon says.

“If we’re going to operate the way we do, we don’t need any heat. Next time, make sure there’s no body.” I skewer Reaper with a look.

“Hum,” he growls, but I can see I made my point.

“Okay, what’s next?” I glance across the table at Nitro. “Where are we on the shooting range ride? After last night, some of you need more practice shooting from your bikes.”

“I talked to Nina. She says we can use the back pasture as long as we stay in the dirt and don’t tear up the grass. She’s moving the cattle in two weeks. Also, she said it’s May now, and the sun’s been shining, so as long as there’s no snow on Sunday, she wants family dinner to be a BBQ,” Talon says.

“Call the butcher and get some—”

“Done and done. Ribs, T-bones, sausage, and brisket. She finally gave me the recipe for her secret marinade. She was impressed with how I smoked her sausage last Sunday.” Talon grins wickedly.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” Nitro snarls. “She’s old enough to be our grandmother. Hell, she’s like the grandmother we never had.”

“You know I didn’t mean no disrespect, but she’s a fine-looking older woman. You have to admit, she wears her leathers well,” Talon says. “Down South where I grew up, a hot older woman like that would still get her fair share of eyes on her in any roadhouse.”

“I’ll tell her you said that,” Matrix teases.

“The hell you will!” Talon jumps out of his chair. “You know I respect that woman more than, well, anyone. I’m just messin’ around.”

“Sit your ass down,” I snap.

Talon glares at Matrix but takes his seat.

“What’s the update on Blackstone?” I ask Matrix.

“Charity gala tomorrow night. Nothing new this week. He’s still in Palo Alto for now. I’ve been keeping tabs on his ranch. Drove past it yesterday. Nothing going on other than the standard number of guards. No guests. No kids. No trucks going in or out. Just the weekly delivery of groceries and supplies. Nothing unusual.”

“We still don’t think anyone’s there other than staff, right?”

“Right.” Matrix nods while typing away at his laptop. He turns it around so we can all see the screen. There’s a live feed of the road leading up to Blackstone’s compound. A guard patrols the road, but otherwise, it’s empty. “I had to replace one of the external surveillance cameras on Wednesday because a bear used it as leverage to get up a tree, but it’s working now.”

“Did we miss anything while it was down?” I ask.

“No.” He turns the laptop back around. “I’ve got cameras covering the whole place. A small area wasn’t in view, but I could see enough from the other feeds. And I got out there right away.”

“Good. I wish we could get eyes inside the ranch, but every time we try to get within a mile of the place, we end up with guns in our faces.” I frown.

“Yeah, it’s a no-go for now. But I’m watching everyone coming and going. If anything changes, you’ll be the first to know,” Matrix says.

“Sounds good. Does anyone have anything they need to bring to the table?” I ask, looking around the room to make sure everyone’s had a chance to speak.

Frantic footsteps pound down the hall. I’m on my feet with my gun in my hand before the runner reaches the door. I yank it open. Holly, one of the cocktail waitresses, comes barreling in.

“There’s a guy in the bar, and he’s got a gun, and he’s screaming that he wants to talk to you, and he’s going to kill everyone if you don’t hurry up.” She’s talking so fast she’s tripping over her words.

“Calm down. What guy?” I demand as I start down the hall with her scurrying behind me.

“He’s big. Like three hundred pounds. And he’s got crazy eyes.”

“Stringy black hair and a snake tattoo on his neck?” I ask.