“We really don’t give a fuck what people think of our operations,” Axl remarked.

“No?” she asked snidely. “Well, when Joint Taskforce Badass Motherfuckers of Denver, and that would include Chaos, if you’ll recall, got those shipments impounded some serious people got seriously deep in some serious fucking shit.”

Axl and Auggie didn’t even look at each other.

“Which shipments?” Aug demanded.

But he knew.

So did Axl.

“Worst thing that happened in Denver, when Chaos got out of transportation protection,” she muttered. “Second worst thing, when Bounty fucked everything up and then saw the error of their ways and rebranded to Resurrection.”

Axl, nor Aug, were interested in her opinions on the histories of local motorcycle clubs.

“Which fucking shipments, Brandi?” Auggie shared this by biting out.

She looked him dead in the eye. “You know which ones, Augustus.” Her gaze then darted between them. “Now, we even?”

“No,” Axl and Aug said together.

“All right then, you feel like starrin’ at your own funeral and givin’ up fuckin’ that pretty pussy you been taggin’,” she began, and a finger of ice trailed down Axl’s spine at her mention of their women, “those shipments were meant to assure some pretty hefty retirements. And the men dreamin’ of fishin’ boats or drinkin’ beer in oceanside bars, checkin’ out chicks in bikinis they could actually afford to impress enough with their bank to suck their dicks, have not given up on that dream.”

Neither man prompted her, because when she was on a roll, she didn’t need it.

And she was on a roll and gave it to them.

“And when the good cops get the drop, where do those shipments go, boys?”

They were in the police impound.

Evidence that just sat there.

For.

Fucking.

Ever.

“And what does this have to do with their problem with Nightingale?” Auggie asked.

“All of you,” she corrected.

“Whatever, B. Talk,” Auggie clipped.

“This is not a new project,” she told them. “You assholes running interference over the years, you been shaking things up for them for a while. They had long-term goals. You kept fuckin’ with them. Those Rock Chick books come out, suddenly Lee Nightingale and Luke Stark and Vance Crowe and Eddie Chavez and Hank Nightingale,” she stressed the two cops on that crew, “are famous? Untouchable.”

She paused.

They waited.

“So they decided to stop fucking around, get the job done, and go for a couple big scores. And you all fucked those too.”

She paused again.

They waited again.

“It’s been awhile since those books came out,” she said low.

“So Nightingale is a target?” Axl asked.

She shrugged. “Nightingale. Delgado. One of the Chavezes. Sebring. Rush Allen of Chaos. Who knows? Who cares? They did you a solid. Delivered those cops to you. Let Cisco off the hook. You didn’t take the hint. You keep stirrin’ up this hornet’s nest, the gloves gonna come off.”

“Why’d you mention the women?” Axl demanded.

“You boys droppin’ like flies,” she noted on a shrug he couldn’t tell if it was fake casual or real.

“Explain,” Axl ground out.

She did that. “As in, gettin’ your asses claimed.”

“And?” he pushed.

“Chill, asshole,” she bit off. “Just that hot dick going off the market makes the rounds. Jesus.”

“That’s all?” Auggie kept at her.

She looked offended. “Okay, you gotta know, a sister’s ass is swinging in the wind, that sister doin’ her best to keep it together by strippin’, I’m gonna share they got problems. They don’t. If they did, like I said, I’d share.”

They did not know that. She’d never been outspoken for the sisterhood nor had she ever shared anything without getting paid.

But she looked like she genuinely meant it.

“Now, are we done?” she asked.

“You got more?” Auggie returned.

“Dude,” she snapped.

She had no more.

“Then we’re done,” Axl said.

“And even?” she pushed.

“We’ll see,” Axl muttered, giving Auggie a look and starting to turn to the door.

“Motherfuckers!” she called.

They turned back.

“I am not on your leash to yank whenever you want. You leave, we’re square,” she declared.

“B, you don’t get to make the rules,” Axl informed her.

“And you do?” she asked.

“Well, yeah,” he answered.

“Fuck you,” she spat.

After having hit his limit of “fuck offs,” that officially hit his quota for the day of “fuck yous.”

With another glance at Auggie, they moved out.

They waited until they were in the Hummer to break it down.

“Whoever this is, they’ve been active awhile. And right now, they’re setting up to steal a huge-ass appropriation of coke and arms from evidence, move it, and then buy fishing boats,” Axl stated.

“And if we get in their way, they’re gonna fuck with us. And since they’re faceless cops we don’t know, which means they have resources, they can make that hurt,” Auggie finished.

Axl pulled out of the parking spot and said, “Call it in.”

Auggie called it in.

While Axl listened to him agreeing to be back at the office for a meet about it, Axl’s phone binged.

He pulled it out of the side pocket of his cargos and waited for a stop at a light before he glanced at the text.

Hattie.

Telling him she was up, which was what he’d asked her to do in a note he left on the pillow beside her.

“When’s the meet?” Axl asked after Aug got off the phone.

“Two.”

“Right.” He waited for another light before he said, “Gotta make a call.”

“Go for it,” Auggie muttered.

He hit buttons and put the phone to his ear.

“Hey!” Hattie greeted.

Fuck, but he liked when she was chirpy.

“Sleep good?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she replied.