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In church, Deacon had a sheet of paper in front of him.

“Cordero Linen Supply,” he said. “Eleven motels and four laundromats between Deming and Lordsburg, and every one of them banks more than it earns. She collects on Fridays, and she does it herself.”

“Then we’re there when she comes,” Preacher said. “I want her to carry that home to Tomas Rivas. Salvation is still not for sale to the cartel.”

“She sees eight bikes on Main, she drives right on by,” I said. “So we need to be smarter about this. We’ll make sure she sees one like normal. Mine, same as every day. I’m inside by myself, and the rest of you sit in the bakery till she’s through the door.”

Nobody at the table liked it.

“Her men carry,” Gage said. “And you gave her driver a reason to dislike you.”

“A lot of people have a reason to dislike me.” I shrugged.

Preacher studied me. He knows I’ll put my hand up for anything. I always have. Nobody was ever waiting at home to see if I made it back, so it might as well be me.

But somebody was waiting now, and she was sitting at the bar. This was for her, though, and I’d do anything to keep her safe.

“All right,” Preacher said. “Friday. Havoc’s inside.”

The gavel came down.

When I came out, she was laughing at something Holly had said. She turned on her stool and saw me, and her whole face changed. I walked straight to her and put my hands on her waist, in front of the whole bar.

The noise in the bar dropped. Then Lock spoke up from the far end.

“Fuck’s sake. Nine years,” he said. “I had a bet on ten.” He made a point of slapping some money on the pool table.

Deacon laughed so hard as he picked up the bills that he had to put his beer down. They’d been running a book. I should’ve known.

Preacher stopped beside me on his way past. “Your sister know?”

“Not yet.”

“Fix that,” he said. “Before you can’t.”

I told her about Friday in the clubhouse lot. She didn’t say one word. She waited until we were back at my house and I’d shut the door.

“You volunteered.”

“Yeah.”

“To stand in my shop by yourself, with a man who’s got a gun and a grudge.”

“The whole club’s across the street.”

“You always do this. Brynn says you’ve done it your whole life. If it’s stupid and dangerous, you’re first in line.” She was right up in my face with her finger in my chest, same as my sister, and her eyes were wet. “Did it cross your mind that I’d care? That I’d be the one standing behind that counter watching?”

“It’s my job,” I said. “And besides, I don’t trust anyone other than me to protect you.”

I kissed her. It was all I had, so I took her to my bed, and this time I went slow.

I undressed her and laid her down on her back across my sheets. Her hair fanned out over my pillow, brown and copper in the lamplight. I started at her throat and worked my way down. The hollow above her collarbone. Her breasts, soft and heavy in my hands, with the nipples tight against my tongue. Her ribs. The skin under her navel, so fine my stubble left a pink trail across it. She kept trying to hurry me. I held her hips to the bed and took my time.

“I’ve waited since you were nineteen,” I said. “You can wait ten minutes.”

She called me a filthy name. I bit the inside of her thigh for it, which made her throw her head back into the pillow and breathe hard.

Then I put my shoulders between her legs and my mouth on her. She was soaked. I licked her slow, long and flat, around her clit and away again, and the taste of her went straight to my head. She squirmed and cussed me with both hands in my hair. Her heels slid on the sheets. I’d thought about doing this to her for longer than I’d ever admit.