Page 294 of Property of Whiskey

Sophie’s eyes snap up. “No.”

Harder than I expect.

Royal eases back while Sophie lays Amos’s old donor sheet beside one of the financial printouts she brought with her.

“This proves the same fund was feeding Pearly Gates-related organizations years before the transfers I found. It still doesn’t prove my father personally approved what the money bought.”

Becki says gently, “Could’ve been his lawyers.”

Sophie nods. “Could’ve.”

Legend watches her, and his first instinct is written all over his face. Take the papers away. Tell her she doesn’t have to do this. Protect her by making the decision for her.

These bikers all have the damn disease.

He opens his mouth.

Sophie looks up. “Don’t even start.”

Legend stops.

Royal glances between them while Becki quietly closes her hand over his beneath the table.

Sophie says, “I need to see it.”

Legend’s fingers flex once against the tabletop before he finally nods. “Okay.” Doesn’t smile, but the tension in her shoulders eases enough to matter.

Twila notices too. Her foot brushes mine beneath the table.

Not accidental.

I look at her.

She keeps reading.

Sneaky woman.

Sophie lays two financial sheets beside Amos’s old donation record. “These payments line up with the same charitable pool I found before. What we didn’t have was this.”

She taps MERCY HOUSE.

“A residential program for girls sitting inside that network.”

That’s the new piece. Nobody has to say it.

Kaylee sits near the end of the table beside Bullet.

Not beside Sophie or Becki.

Bullet.

Their chairs are almost touching. She looks better than she did when we pulled her out of old Pearly Gates. Still pale and bruised, still aware of every doorway, but her hair is clean and she’s upright in a borrowed sweatshirt with both feet tucked beneath the chair.

Bullet hasn’t moved more than six feet from her since we walked in.

Nobody comments about them. Nobody needs to.

Twila picks up the old fundraiser photograph. “Kaylee.”