Page 129 of Pistols & Peonies

Her mouth drops open on a dramatic gasp, eyes bouncing between the two of them. “Wait, what?!” she exclaims, clapping a hand to her chest. “You’re the mysterious brother?”

Whit shrugs a shoulder, lips curving in a lazy grin. “My reputation precedes me, apparently.”

Char blushes furiously, grinning like a fool as he leans an elbow on the bar and angles closer.

“You’re not a rebel like Violet, are you?” he asks.

My pulse skips, eyes darting toward Kane.

He doesn’t react, of course. The man’s poker face is infallible.

“Of course not,” Char laughs, completely oblivious to the fact that she’s standing across from Rogue himself. “I’m the good influence.”

“Yeah, right,” I laugh, unable to help myself.

She cuts me a glare, but the bartender interrupts before she can respond.

“Hey, Vi, Jeff needs you in his office,” he calls from the other end of the bar.

I nod, snapping back into business mode and squeezing Kane’s hand once before letting go. “Try to keep that under control,” I tell him, flicking a pointed glance between Whit and Char.

“No promises,” he chuckles.

I roll my eyes and turn away, threading my way through the crowd toward the back of the room. I push into the owner’s office without knocking, finding Jeff seated behind his desk, tension etched into every line of his face. Noah, the club manager, stands off to the side, his arms crossed and jaw tight.

Not good.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, cutting straight to it.

Jeff exhales heavily, dragging a hand over his face. “Bones is out.”

My stomach drops. “Out?”

“He called, said something came up,” Noah chimes in. “Probably just got spooked since Reaper beat him last time.”

I whirl on him. “Ten minutes before we’re supposed to start?”

He sucks in a breath through his teeth, grimacing. “Think we can stall for a half hour while we figure out how the hell to salvage this?”

I stare back at him blankly, already feeling the night tilt.

First official event, full crowd, main ticket blown to hell before we even start…

No.

Not happening.

“We’re not stalling,” I snap.

Noah blinks. “We have to–”

“We’re not,” I repeat, folding my arms. “We stall, we look unprepared. This is the first night we’re operating clean and public, it’ll set the tone for every one going forward. It has to go off without a hitch.”

Jeff studies me from behind his desk, steepling his fingers. “Then what’s the move, Slayter?”

I step closer, bending forward and bracing my palms against his desk, mind already snapping pieces into place. “We don’t patch the hole,” I say. “We make them forget there ever was one. Put Reaper up against a surprise opponent that’ll rile the crowd even more.”

Jeff frowns. “Who?”