Teresa nodded.
"He came home three nights before he died and said someone told him accidents happen to loud people."
Elena inhaled.
"Did you tell police?"
"Yes."
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
Teresa opened another envelope.
"Harmon offered me fifty thousand dollars."
"For what?"
"Settlement."
"Did you sign?"
"No."
She looked at her children playing in the next room.
"They wanted confidentiality."
Marcus asked, "Why refuse?"
Teresa's face hardened.
"Because my husband was worth more than their silence."
That night, the Desert Kings stopped calling what they were doing research.
It had become an investigation whether they wanted it to or not.
Marcus remained determined to keep it legal.
He sent copies of everything to Patel.
She called him an hour later.
"Where did you get Ortiz's documents?"
"His widow."
"Directly?"
"Yes."
"Did she authorize you to share them?"
"Yes."
"Good."
"Why do you sound annoyed?"
"Because every time I think you're about to make my life harder, you do something responsible."
Marcus smiled.
"I can stop."
"Don't."
Patel became quieter.
"I've forwarded part of this to state investigators."
"Part?"
"I'm not discussing an active investigation."
"Then why tell me?"
"Because if you find anything involving threats against witnesses, call me before you call your club."
Marcus looked through his office window at Sophie.
She was asleep on the couch with a book open on her chest.
"Fair."
Two days later, someone tried to burn the clubhouse.
It happened at 3:17 in the morning.
Diesel was in the rear garage finishing a transmission job when he smelled gasoline.
He stepped outside and saw a man pouring liquid near the wooden fence.
Diesel shouted.
The man dropped the container and ran.
He never reached his car.
Not because eight bikers beat him.
Marcus had made the rules clear.
Instead, Snake tackled him into a patch of gravel and sat on him until police arrived.
The man screamed that his shoulder was broken.
It was not.
Police found two gasoline cans, rags, a disposable lighter and ten thousand dollars cash in his trunk.
Detective Patel arrived personally.
She looked at Marcus.
"Still think I'm paranoid?"
Marcus glanced at the gasoline trail ten yards from where Sophie and Elena had been sleeping.
"No."
The suspect's name was Leonard Pike.
He had multiple convictions and worked occasionally as private security.
Phone records eventually tied him to a shell company contracted by Harmon.
Not directly enough for an arrest of Charles Breslin.
But close enough to widen the investigation.
Elena wanted to leave the clubhouse.
Marcus argued that doing so might be more dangerous.
"I brought this to you," she said.
Marcus looked confused.
"What?"
"If Sophie hadn't..."
"No."
"Marcus."
"No."
He pointed toward the front room.
"Your daughter stopped someone from killing me."
"We don't know if..."
"We know enough."
He lowered his voice.
"You didn't bring anything here. They did."
Elena looked toward the room where Sophie was sleeping.
"I'm scared."
"I know."
"I haven't been this scared since Rafael died."
Marcus knew that was Sophie's father.
Elena had rarely spoken his name.
She sat at the bar.
Marcus poured coffee.
"Tell me about him."
She looked surprised.
"Why?"
"Because your kid talks about him like he's still in the room."
A sad smile appeared.
"He would've liked you."
Marcus snorted.
"You didn't like me when we met."
"I thought my daughter had wandered into a biker gang."
"Fair."
"Rafael would've asked what engine you had before he asked your name."
"Then maybe I would've liked him."
Elena wrapped both hands around the coffee cup.
"He opened his shop when Sophie was two."