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Wiz and Sam were creating a target. But Deb was a very soft target. They must not realize how easily Deb could die.
Deb pointed at her chest. “Me? The Cupcake Woman who never does anything serious?”
Sam nodded sharply. “Yes, you. You’re already the focal point of the campaign, so we’re widening your role. And your previous levity will work in your favor. People will believe the change in tone.” She pointed at Michael, rising from his chair with his fists clenched. Trevor couldn’t blame the man—obviously besotted with Deb—for his reaction. “Let me finish. Koslov would love to target Wiz, but you heard that one”—she moved her accusing finger to him—“it would take a military operation to penetrate Wiz’s security. So we make Deb the face of the larger campaign and we push Koslov hard enough that he’s as furious as you are right now.” She quirked a brow.
Wiz followed up. “In the past, Koslov has let his temper get the better of him. He’s taken on enemies personally. That’s what we’re trying for here. If we can take out the man himself, his organization will be crippled, at least temporarily. They might target us for revenge later, but if the rest of my plan works, the feds should solve that problem.”
She was taking the fight to the Bratva. An extremely risky strategy.
Michael clenched his fists. “You’re making Deb into a target. A soft target. She can’t hurt a mouse, let alone defend herself against a cruel man like Koslov. And even if he comes himself, he won’t be alone. She’ll die.”
With difficulty, Trevor kept his mouth shut. Michael was correct.
“I will not!” Deb jumped to her feet. “I’m not an idiot.”
Sam put both hands up, pushing toward the tabletop. “Calm down. Of course we’re not risking Deb. Because it won’t be Deb staying in the bakery.”
Clever. Put someone in her place, someone who was a hard target. But hard didn’t save anyone from a firebomb or grenade.
Michael relaxed into his chair. “Well, that makes more sense.”
“No, it doesn’t!” Deb pointed at Sam. “You’ve all done enough. I can do this.”
Wiz leaned around Tom and put a hand on Deb’s arm. “Hey, we all have strengths. Baking is your superpower; ours is military-style operations. We all have a role to play. Trust me, we’ve got a great plan.”
Deb sat back down. He’d been right; Wiz should have been a general. Stupid of the Air Force to treat her so poorly, throwing all that talent away. But even so, they were civilians. Without law enforcement on their side, they’d be hard pressed to execute their plan without getting charged with crimes themselves.
Sam stood. “Okay, this meeting of the Cupcake Protection Society is officially closed. Mostly because we don’t want him to know the rest.” She pointed at him. Wisps of auburn hair fell around her face, and he longed to let the rest go, run his hands through the silky mass and kiss her. But from the glare, he doubted that would ever happen again. “Will the FBI help or get in the way?”
He’d have to answer. “I don’t know. It’s not my call. I’m not sharing any of your plans if I don’t have to, but I think your chances of pulling off a military-style operation in the middle of Marcus without law enforcement of some kind stepping in are next to zero.” If only he had proof of Koslov’s or the Marcus County sheriff’s criminality. But all they had was lower level goons and circumstantial evidence. It would take a lot more than that to take down either man or Koslov’s organization.
“And I suppose we can’t expect any information either, can we?” Sam’s tone was skeptical.
Trevor couldn’t blame her; she was right. “No. You’re not law enforcement.”
“Figures. Show yourself out, Mills.” She turned back toward Wiz. “You’re not useful.”
Trevor controlled his expression and stood. He’d never been useful to Sam and probably never would be. They all stood, Wiz pointing at her front door. He nodded, turned, and left the party. He wanted to stay, but they didn’t want him there. Besides, his duty had to take priority.
Climbing back into his SUV, he drove back out the security gates, down the ranch road, and onto the highway. He’d been lucky to hear that much. Sure, Sam had tolerated him, but it was only for the sake of her friends. Otherwise, he’d never have gotten inside.
Even Sam talking to him was a bit of a miracle. He should be grateful he’d gotten the chance to make up for some of his sins with the rescue and forget about anything more. Sam made it clear that wasn’t anywhere near enough, and her friends backed her up. They were all right.
But he longed to remain, never letting Sam go, keeping her safe forever. Proving his good intentions to Sam would be a hard sell. Especially when he wasn’t sure he could protect her and still accomplish his mission.
Chapter three
Turning off her phone’s camera, Sam rubbed her eyes. Deb, Erin, Ryan, and the rest of her friends on the video conference didn’t need to see how tired she was, especially when she had it easy in comparison. Over the last two weeks, Koslov’s people had harassed Deb’s Bakery non-stop. Even with all of Wiz’s toys and tricks, the Copperline Security people Nic had brought in, and all their friends pitching in, keeping Deb’s business alive was exhausting. They were all worn thin. At least she slept in her own bed, unlike the rest of them.
But staying away from her office was challenging. After a few days of paid vacation, Mary, her faithful legal assistant, insisted she could work from home and fill in the gaps. Mary snuck into the office at random times during the day to get the mail and deal with clients who couldn’t—or wouldn’t—work over the internet.
Sam met clients at their homes, businesses, or coffee shops, but working on a confidential matter was impossible in a public space. Plus, the rumor mill in Marcus was running at full speed, and even though Koslov was the bad guy, Sam was feeling the pain. Her income was down and her expenses increased. She improved her home and internet security, got a treadmill, and upgraded her cell phone plan, but the lack of a professional office wasn’t helping.
She also spent too many hours encouraging business owners to document threats from Koslov’s organization with the police. And visits to supporters with Deb and Erin took a lot of time, too, because each required careful planning. The Cupcake Protection Society fund-raising took a lot of work too; updates to supporters, smashing trolls, and answering questions were critical but time-consuming, even with all of them working on it.
Then there were the difficult but essential conversations with Erin and Deb. Both were struggling, and while everyone around them was supportive, the three of them had been best friends as long as they could remember. Sam had spent hours on the phone, trying to raise Deb’s spirits and listening to Erin’s conflicted feelings about her mom. Deb just needed someone to listen and sympathize; Sam happily dropped everything for her calls.
But listening to Erin talk about Sharlene Murphy’s disregard for anything but money and status brought up things Sam would rather forget. Sam understood how easy it was to fall into the trap of envy and the desire to belong, to fit into the so-called cream of society. Unlike Murphy, Sam had learned many of those at the top of the pile were truly ugly underneath the expensive clothes and beauty treatments.
