Page 58 of Property of Tacoma

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, not used to my old man weighing in on my love life—not that I have one. “Pop?—”

“And you,” he continues, ignoring me as he turns to my little brother. “You need to find yourself a woman like that. Someone who can handle her shit.”

Bane rolls his eyes. “Don’t need a ball and chain, Pop.”

Red slams his hand on the table. “Enough talk about fucking bitches. We’ve got bigger shit to worry about. Like the Sinners making moves in our territory.”

“Red’s right,” I say, grateful for the redirection. “The mayor getting whacked in our club and the Sinners showing up out of the fucking blue can’t be a coincidence.”

Someone’s playing chess while we’ve been playing checkers. The question is, who?

“What about that message on the wall?” Bishop asks. “There’s a new king in town. You think they mean literally?”

I drum my fingers on the table, considering. “Could be. Someone taking over from Camden, maybe. Or it could be a direct challenge to us—the Kings of Anarchy.”

“Either way, we need to tighten shit up,” Bash says firmly. “Double security at all our businesses, especially the trucking company. We can’t risk them hitting our shipments.”

“Agreed,” I nod. “Cyber, I want you monitoring police channels, social media, anything that might give us a heads up on Sinner movements.”

Cyber nods, already tapping away on his phone. “On it, boss.”

“Journey,” I continue, “coordinate with the prospects. I want eyes on Sinner territory. I need to know if they’re mobilizing.”

“You got it,” Journey agrees.

“Banks, make sure all our legitimate businesses have their security up to date. I don’t want any fucking surprises.”

Banks gives a curt nod. “Already started upgrading systems at Kitties after what happened. I’ll get on the rest tomorrow.”

“Good.” I look around the table. “We need to be smart about this. No retaliation yet. We gather intel first, figure out what the fuck is happening, then we strike.”

The sound of a phone ringing cuts through the tension in the room. My phone. I pull it out of my pocket and feel my stomach drop when I see the name on the screen.

Chief.

Fuck, he knows.

I take a deep breath and answer. “Tacoma.”

“Where the fuck is my sister?” Chief’s voice booms through the speaker, loud enough that everyone at the table can hear him.

I close my eyes briefly, weighing my options. Lying will only make shit worse.

“She’s at my house,” I admit, bracing for the explosion I know is coming.

There’s a beat of silence, and then, “YOUR HOUSE? WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE DOING AT YOUR HOUSE?”

I pull the phone away from my ear, wincing at the volume. Bane snickers across the table, and I flip him off.

“She decided to stay in town for a few days,” I say, keeping my voice even.

“Bullshit,” Chief snarls. “She’s not answering her fucking phone.”

That’s because she’s passed out in my bed, exhausted from me fucking her six ways from Sunday.

“She’s probably sleeping,” I say instead. “It’s been a long day.”

“Why the fuck is she sleeping at your house?” Chief’s voice is dangerously quiet now. “You fucked my sister, didn’t you? You motherfucker. I told you?—”