“Yeah. Had to break up a brawl between Spike and Hammer last week.”
Her expression cooled, the humour fading. “MCs are the worst.”
“You know them?”
“Not those names. But I’ve seen what they leave behind. Doesn’t matter which club—my client list is full of women carrying their scars.”
The room went quiet, heavy. The storm outside drummed harder against the glass.
Then she said, low: “You ever hear of someone called Preacher?”
The name twisted in my gut like a splinter I couldn’t place. “Can’t say I have. Why?”
“Just... keep your eyes open if you do. From what I hear, he doesn’t usually show up unless the storm’s already halfway here.”
Didn’t like the sound of that. Not one bit.
I shuffled my cards again; suddenly sure paper speeches weren’t much use if a wildfire was about to hit.
“You thinking of hiring?” she asked suddenly, like it was nothing.
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“New officers. You keep saying you’re short-staffed. Maybe it’s time. Bring in someone from outside. Someone you trust. Someone who isn’t already neck-deep in the rot you’re trying to scrub out.”
“You offering?”
She smirked, wolfish. “Not my style, Chief. But maybe what you need isn’t more of the same. Maybe you need someone who remembers what the system’s supposed to be.”
The thought stuck like a burr.
“I’ll think about it.”
“You should,” she said. “Sometimes the only way to fix a broken structure is to bring in someone who knows how to tighten the bolts from the outside.”
She tossed her empty cup in the bin and stood. “And for the record, don’t read your little rainbow panic cards tomorrow like you’re at a PTA meeting.”
“Noted.”
“Oh, and Chief?”
“Yeah?”
“Try not to look like you’re waiting for someone to throw a punch. It’s a fundraiser, not a hostage negotiation.”
That pulled a laugh out of me. Short, rough, real.
She turned to go, boots thudding softly on the tile. And before I could stop myself, I called after her:
“How’s Ava?”
She froze just a fraction, then looked back, eyes softer than I’d ever seen. “She’ll chew you up and spit you out, Chief.”
A crooked wink, and she was gone.
The storm rattled the window. I sat in my office, staring at thecards, but for the first time in weeks, I didn’t feel like I was walking into a firing squad.
Maybe, just maybe, spring wasn’t the only thing breaking through.
