Cal pops the top on a Pepsi can with his blue-painted nails and then sits back on his heels, sipping it and alternating handfuls of chocolate covered peanuts while he watches me.

“We all agree that taking down Mason is important, but not with such significant risk to you.” Oscar slides the iPad back in his direction, pointing out several other bedrooms on the same upstairs hallway as Mason’s. “What if he decides he doesn’t want to take you back to his room? What if he decides he wants to use one of these instead? Then what? If you’re trapped with him, we might not be able to get to you in time.”

“That won’t matter because I’m not going into the room with him. Shit, I’m not even asking to play call girl.” I lean back against Aaron’s chest and he shudders, curving a muscular arm around my midsection. His rose and sandalwood smell drifts around me, bolstering my resolve. “This is what I propose,” I start, exhaling as I push back red-tinged blond hair from my face. “Vera has already agreed to help me out. She’ll go to Portland and join the girls set to work the reception at Kay’s. Once she’s in, she’ll let us in the back door.” I point it out with my new favorite fingernail, the one with the little ring pierced through the tip. “Hael, Aaron, and I will head out to the front to keep an eye on Mason. With so many people in such a dark club, I doubt he’ll recognize us. The rest of you”—I point my finger at Cal, Oscar, and Victor—“will set up in the hall and inside Mason’s room. Regardless of what girl he picks, he’ll come up the stairs and we’ll have him alone and surprised. A one-on-one fight isn’t necessary. We just need to be slick about it.”

“And what if something goes wrong?” Vic inserts, a muscle in his jaw working as his frustration builds. It doesn’t bother me. Actually, it sort of turns me on. He’s coming from a place of wanting to protect me. Shit, I wouldn’t mind if he dragged me to bed and ordered me around under the sheets, but right here, I’m the HBIC. He needs to back the fuck off. “We’re all trapped together inside a GMP-owned club with Mason Miller. Sounds like a really great way to end up dead. Only positive I can see is that we all go to the other side together.”

I glare at him across the surface of the table. Like I haven’t thought about this already? Asshole.

“Listen to me, Mr. Blackbird,” I snap back at him, shifting on Aaron’s lap and feeling the growing bulge between his thighs. Good boy. Get it up for me, Fadler. “And I’ll tell you my contingency plan.” With a tilt of my chin, I indicate the closed curtains and the police cruiser parked across the street. Half-surveillance, half-protective detail. Gotta hand it to Sara Young, that woman knows how to plot. “I have a contingency plan.”

“The feds?” Vic inquires, shaking his head and letting out a long sigh as he closes his eyes. “I know you’re not a snitch, so … color me intrigued.” He opens those obsidian eyes for me and smirks. “Lay it out, Mrs. Channing.”

Aaron makes a sound of annoyance, tightening the grip of his hand against my hip.

“When Hael and I went to Pussy Point,” I say, trying and failing to hide the smile in my voice. He chuckles as he glances my way and our gazes cross. It doesn’t take much imagining to remember the hot feel of his hands on my skin, his palm skimming my belly, his head between my thighs. That tongue, so explosive, so wicked. “It took the cruiser about seventeen minutes to catch up with us.”

Oscar is the first one to get where I’m going with this.

“We use that window of time to kill Mason,” he muses as I flick my attention his way. “And if something happens, we have the feds banging down the door to rescue us.” An arrogant twist of his lips belies the cool, detached tone of his words. He’s impressed with me. Can’t even deny it. “This could work, Bernadette.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” I say as I shift once again on Aaron’s lap. This time, he drags me back against him, his breath warm against the side of my neck. “Of course it’ll work.”

“This still involves putting you in harm’s way,” Aaron adds, and I glance back to find him watching me. He keeps saying he wants a haircut, but fuck if the sight of a chestnut curl flopping against his forehead doesn’t do my ass in. “What if Mason recognizes you? You’re not exactly … an every woman.”

I snort at that and shake my head.

“This is where we come back around to the original argument. I won’t be playing a call girl, but to get into that club, I’ll have to dress like one.”

“No.” Vic stands up from the counter and moves over to the table, standing beside Callum where he remains crouched and contemplative. “I’m not letting my wife dress to please Mason cocksucking Miller. You dress in a black hoodie and jeans like the rest of us.”

“Except—as we all know—white supremacist Nazi cocksuckers don’t let women into their ranks. The only women who will be at the club will be strippers and hookers. And Victor, come on, every Prescott girl knows how to don a wig and do some contouring. Nobody will recognize me.”

“Mason might,” Victor corrects, and I roll my eyes. I glance over at Cal for help. Out of all of them, he’s usually on my side.

“Mason will,” Callum says, standing up, still perched on top of the table. His head nearly hits the ceiling. If it were a regular eight-foot ceiling, he most definitely would have.

“You don’t know that,” I retort, but if Cal is saying it, he’s probably right. “Regardless, the plan is good, and it’s worth the risk. If we’re going to stay in Springfield … shit, if we’re going to stay in Oregon … then we need to move. Don’t you want your inheritance? You promised me gifts. And shoes. Lots of fucking shoes. And all the weed I could smoke.”

Of course, Victor knows that I barely care about shoes and pot. What I care about is changing things around here, giving Heather and the girls a strong future, and kicking some GMP ass. This pedo ring they’re running with Ophelia’s help, it stops on my watch. Even if running away would be the safest option for all of us, I can’t do it. I won’t. Not when girls like Alyssa or Penelope or Stacey are preyed on and destroyed, their beautiful and vibrant lights snuffed out by the scum of the earth.

“How do we get Vera into the club in the first place?” Oscar asks, but I just smile. I’ve already figured that out, too. I take the crown that’s sitting on the table, the one that Vic dropped on my bloodied head back at the school, and slip it on.

Of all the things the cops took from me as evidence, I was allowed to keep only this.

Must be fate.

“Guess what I learned from Vera this morning?” I ask, shifting once more until Aaron grabs me and presses his mouth against the throbbing pulse in the side of my throat. Never underestimate how fun it is to get a man to nut in his fucking pants. Best part is: you can help him strip down and clean up after—then invite his mouth between your thighs.

“Clever little Blackbird,” Hael chuckles, shaking his head. “No need to be so coy. What did you learn from your little hooker friend?”

“For years, one man’s been responsible for supplying Mason with girls, ones that nobody cares about, with no family, ones that society doesn’t care if they live or die.” I exhale and adjust the crown so that it’s sitting straight. I glance back at Aaron again, because I wonder if this might shake him more than the other boys, considering everything he went through.