That gets them. In an instant, they know exactly who I’m talking about. No last name needed. There’s only one Koa we’ve ever heard of. It’s a Hawaiian name or some shit, so it’s not common around here.
Eli and Caleb exchange quick glances—sharp, assessing, calculating what this means.
Noah leans back in his chair. “You sure?”
“We made sure ourselves tonight. Made sure it wasn’t a setup.” I spread my arms. “And what do you know? There was Koa kissing our girl as soon as he saw her.”
Thatcher starts laughing. Low and dark. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
I laugh too. Can’t help it. “Fate’s got a twisted sense of humor, doesn’t it?”
“How did you get wrapped up with this girl?” Eli asks.
I smirk. “Jasper.”
Noah doesn’t blink. Just keeps staring at me like he’s deciding whether to slit my throat or shake my hand.
Finally, he says, “And what exactly do you plan to do with her?”
I shrug, keeping my expression neutral. “Leverage is bittersweet, innit?” I joke, glancing at quiet Atticus in the corner. “Let’s shut this shit down.”
Noah’s still staring. Weighing. Calculating.
Then he nods once. “You want to take point on this?”
“Already have.”
“Then make her talk.” His voice drops lower. “I want names, routes, contacts—anything to get the scum off the streets. You know what to do.”
“Consider it done.”
“Meeting over. Get to sleep.”
Chairs scrape back. The others file out, muttering to each other in low voices I can’t quite catch.
Atticus lingers just long enough to catch my eye, a question hiding behind that smirk. “You sure about this one, mate?”
“Never been more sure of anything.”
He pushes off the wall and disappears down the hall.
Noah waits until it’s just the two of us. Then he says quietly, “You’ve already got too much on your plate, Rev. The Harper job’s still open, and I want you on it.”
“That’s going to interfere.”
He nods. “Exactly. But given your name, it gets you out of this house for a while. Keeps your head clear.”
I glance toward the stairs—the direction of Lexi’s room. “You want me gone, say it.”
He stands, looming over me now. Taller. Broader. The kind of presence that makes you remember why people follow him.
“I want results,” he says. “If you’re successful, then...” His eyes finish the sentence.
“Understood.”
I start for the door, but he stops me with one more sentence.
“If she’s really Gilbert’s kid,” he says, voice low and cold, “don’t get attached. Kane blood doesn’t end well for anyone who touches it.”
