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Her nod was wobbly. “All is clear.”

I frowned as I realized what she was looking at on the screen.

Reports were already coming in about a massacre at a warehouse in Portland.

My stomach tightened into an uneasy bow. “How many?”

“Nine so far.”

With the number of Crows that had ridden out last night, there would be reports of more, I was sure.

She clicked onto another screen and started moving a bunch of numbers around.

“Money?”

Her nod was reticent. “A lot of it.”

It was her job now. Taking the money the guys pilfered away on their raids, either cash or hacking in and draining their accounts.

Diverting it to the places where it was needed most.

Charities, women’s and children’s shelters, animal rescues.

I chewed at my bottom lip as I watched her work. Her fingers flew across the keyboard so quickly I could hardly make sense of what she was doing.

“It has to happen fast,” she said, clueing into the questions that had to be plain on my face.

“You found your calling.”

She peeked over at me. “I found my everything.”

Softness plucked at my spirit while the nerves that wouldn’t leave me until I actually saw their faces coiled and tugged.

The commitment.

The effect that they had.

“I want a part of this,” I whispered.

Brinley frowned, and her fingers stalled out in their frantic clacking. “What do you mean?”

“The boutique. I want it to benefit Crimson Crows’ mission.”

“Oh.” She wavered. Awe and concern was carved out on her face. “How so?”

I shrugged a little as I thought of Trevan suggesting that I go into hiding.

Cut ties.

Pretend this wasn’t woven into my fabric.

“This is my life, too. I want to be an active part of it. In any way that the store can be.”

Understanding filled her expression, though she shifted, lowering her voice further like we were embarking on the treacherous. “We could flow some money through your books. Like we do the bar and the autobody shop.”

Laundering.

“Okay.” I answered without hesitation.