Layla’s POV
I was wiping down the bar, the stranger’s words still icing my veins—Your father sends his love… be ready—when I saw Bullseye by the front door. He had his walkie-talkie pressed to his ear, his back turned to the room. Rico was next to him, listening intently, his face tight. Their body language screamed trouble. This wasn’t a check-in. This was urgent.
The call ended. Bullseye clipped the radio back to his belt, and both men turned, their eyes scanning the room with a new, sharp intensity.
I put my cloth down and walked over, my heart doing a nervous tap-dance. “Everything okay?”
Bullseye’s eyes snapped to me, then quickly softened into a mask. “Yeah. All good. Just a hiccup on a supply run. One of the prospects got a flat out on the highway. Nothing to worry about.”
It
