Page 98 of Double Standards

“You ever sent flowers, Max?” Trigger asks.

Max nods once.

Trigger raises a brow. “Oh yeah? Funeral or apology?”

Max finally speaks. “Funeral.”

Trigger snorts. “Told you it was romantic.”

“This isn’t a fucking joke,” I snap.

My outburst sobers him. Trigger finally stops playing with the toothpick. I rarely lose my shit with him—at least not in a personal way—but pushing my buttons when it comes to Cassie is something I won’t tolerate.

“You want eyes on her place? Or the office?”

“Both. And someone on her. Quiet. No shadows she can spot.” I pick up my phone, texting a quick message to Cassie.

We’ve spoken through the day, more so after her phone call this morning. I’m on edge, but I don’t know what I need to look for. Cassie has my head in a tail-spin, and it’s throwing me off my game. I’m usually great at analyzing situations, spotting the mole before it peeks its head above ground. But since she came into my life, shit’s never been the same.

“You think she’s being followed?” Trigger asks.

“Iknowshe is.” I glance out the tinted window at the warehouse door up ahead. “And I don’t like what that means.”

Trigger leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Who do you think is behind it?”

I shake my head, jaw tight. “Cooper’s not smart enough to send flowers. That fuck’s a blunt instrument, not a chess player. He does what he’s told and screws it up half the time.”

Trigger hums in agreement, chewing his toothpick likeit’s got flavor. He knows I’m right. Cooper’s a junkyard dog; loud, dumb, and only dangerous when you turn your back.

“This,” I continue, voice low and sharp, “is someone who wants Cassie scared.” My words hang in the air like smoke. Trigger goes still. Max doesn't flinch, just keeps his gaze forward, hands steady on the wheel.

Then, quiet as a confession, Max says, “Daniels.”

The name hits like glass shattering in my gut. My jaw clenches. Blood pulses hard behind my eyes. I don’t say anything right away. I let the silence stretch, let it choke the space between us. Outside the SUV, the street lamp flickers like it knows something’s coming.

Hunter and Ryder are already waiting for us beside Hunter’s Audi, Trigger’s men surrounding them. I know I need to shake this issue from my mind, even just for an hour. We came here to close out one problem, and I intend to do that before dealing with the next.

“It’s too early to say,” I grind out, even though my instincts are already screaming. “But yeah. He’s got the brains for it.”

Trigger finally speaks, low and edged. “Didn’t think he’d try something this soon. Fucker’s got a death wish.”

“Neither did I.” I stare out the window, but I’m not seeing the warehouse anymore. I’m seeing Daniels’ smug fucking face, the last time we crossed paths. The cockiness. The calm. Like he knew every card in my hand and was already three moves ahead. Maybe we didn’t win the case after all. Maybe this was all part of his plan.

I shake my head. There’s no way Daniels is that clever. He wants The Five out of the city, but he’s trying to put us down the old-fashioned way. He failed. So what’s next?

Max shifts in his seat. “If it’s Daniels, this is just the start.”

I nod slowly, the pieces starting to click into place in the back of my skull. “He’s setting the stage. Making sure we know he’s not backing down.”

Trigger sighs, leans his head back against the seat. “I fucking hate this guy.”

“You’re not the only one,” I grumble, my voice cold enough to burn. “But he’s not our problem tonight.”

Max steps out of the car, and Trigger follows. I pause for a second, glancing at my phone. No reply from Cassie. Which could be a good thing or a bad thing.

Fuck.

I shove it deep in my pocket and step out, slipping my gun from the back of my slacks to check the magazine.