Talon
As it turned out, the cousin’s husband’s stepsister’s uncle of our prospect, Luke — or some crazy s**t like that, I don’t know — was chummy with one of the Russians. I’d filled Jake in on the intel I’d gathered from Benny, our whole club had called in our favors, and our boy Luke’s contact set up a meeting for us with the Russians. At the Firefly Diner.
The meeting was set for tonight, and the weight of it pressed heavy on my chest as I stood in the garage, tightening the last bolts on my bike. The air smelled like grease and gasoline, sharp and familiar, but it didn’t do much to calm the restless energy humming through my nerves.
Jake leaned against the workbench next to me, arms crossed, watching me. “You sure you’re good with this?” he asked, his voice low but clear over the so
