Page 70 of Tyson
"Fucker needs to learn about boundaries," Tank rumbled from down the table.
"My thoughts exactly." I tapped the next photo—financial records I definitely hadn't obtained legally. "Here's where it gets interesting. Store's profitable, but not forty-grand-in-inventory profitable. Money's coming from somewhere else."
Duke studied the numbers with sharp eyes. "Laundering?"
"That'd be my guess. Question is for who." I spread out the next set of images—Cruz meeting with unfamiliar faces, expensive suits and careful body language. "These were taken last week. Haven't ID'd them yet, but they're not local."
"Cartel?" Rico asked from his spot with the other prospects.
"Could be. Or could be he's just trying to level up, make connections that give him leverage." I closed the folder, meeting Duke's eyes. "Either way, he needs a clear message about touching what's ours."
My phone buzzed against the table.
I ignored it, continuing my presentation. "Suggest we pay him a visit. Trash the store, make it clear—"
The phone buzzed again. Then vibrated with an incoming message.
"Something important?" Duke's voice carried that edge of suspicion I'd been dodging for days.
I glanced down at the screen and nearly choked.
Lena.
Naked.
Her hand between her thighs, back arched, purple hair spread across my pillow like spilled wine. The caption read:
Thinking about you ??
Every drop of blood in my body headed south. The little brat had deliberately disobeyed, and documented it, and sent it while I was surrounded by brothers who couldn't know I'd been the one to mess her sheets.
Rico shifted beside me, and I angled the phone away before he could get an eyeful. The last thing I needed was prospects drooling over what was mine.
"Just need to handle something quick," I managed, voice steadier than I felt.
My fingers moved across the keyboard with military efficiency:
There will be consequences for this, little girl.
Her response was almost instant:
Promise? ??
The peach emoji nearly undid my composure completely. She knew exactly what she was doing, the manipulative little minx.Sitting in my bed, touching herself, taunting me while I tried to plan her protection.
"As I was saying," I pocketed the phone, refocusing through sheer will. "Cruz needs to understand Lena's under our protection. I say we pay him a visit. Trash his jewelry store, make it clear he's not welcome in our territory."
"Measured response," Duke approved, but his eyes lingered on me a beat too long. "Sends a message without escalating to bloodshed. Yet."
"Exactly. Quick, efficient, just enough damage to make our point." My mind was already splitting between tactical planning and creative punishments for bratty girls who sent dirty pictures during church.
"Take Rico and Johnnie," Duke ordered, nodding to the prospects. "They need the experience, and three should be enough for a jewelry store."
"Copy that." I was already moving, eager to handle this and get back to handling Lena. "We'll head out now, catch him during business hours. More impact if customers see it happen."
"Tyson." Duke's voice stopped me at the door. "You good? You seem . . . distracted."
The weight of his stare pressed between my shoulder blades. Duke missed nothing, filed everything away. How long before he connected dots I couldn't afford him to see?
