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Every damn one of the DAMC women were badass bitches. But it probably helped that they had generations of biker blood coursing through their veins.

In one way it was scary that they showed no fear. In another, it was downright impressive.

Some veterans—especially former special forces like him—might have a problem taking orders from a woman. But Reaper had no issue with it because women sometimes had cooler heads, despite the fact they were constantly told women were more emotional.

Reaper had witnessed the opposite plenty of times.

Even so, he took a risk coming to work for Vi, but so far, it had been the best decision he’d made in a long fucking time.

“As you already know, Indie, T-Bone, Grim, and Ghost have their orders,” he started.

“Of course. They’re following the plan we set up. But I’m asking you what you’re thinking of doing next. I value your expertise.”

Vi never acted like she was better than anyone on her team simply due to the fact she managed them. She always was open to hearing ideas and admitted when she was wrong or acknowledged when someone proposed a better plan. Being open and flexible also ensured her crew’s safety. If one of them said something was a bad idea, she respected that and they pivoted.

Getting the job done was important but getting it done with everyone in one piece in the end was crucial.

“Once it’s dark, I’m heading up to Pittsburgh and plan on doing a little more target practice.”

“If you’re working tonight, then I don’t expect to see you in here tomorrow. Sleep in.”

If only he could. “Not sure how to do that.”

“A fan running and blackout curtains help.”

“I’ll ask my landlord to install some.”

Not only was Vi his boss, she and her sisters were his landlords. One stipulation when he was hired was that he move into one of the cabins on the Doughertys’ farm. All three sisters—Violet, Indigo, and Scarlet—shared the main farmhouse and there were ten cabins on the large property that had been in their family for four generations.

Just like the OG DAMC members and the Shadows had their own neighborhood, Vi was trying to do something similar with the current Shadows…keep them close. Grim, Ghost, and T-Bone each had their own cabins. So did Reaper.

He had no complaints. Living on the farm was quiet and having his own cabin gave him plenty of privacy since they weren’t on top of each other.

Dakota Delgado, Grim’s sister and the daughter of Hunter, a retired Shadow, also lived on site, as well as the DAMC president Zeke along with his ol’ lady Kyra and their son Ledger. Only two of them were currently rented to outsiders.

Reaper had a feeling that Vi also wanted the Shadows to live on the property to avoid renting to as many outsiders as possible. She didn’t want others tracking the comings and goings of her team.

“Your landlord gives you permission to install them yourself.”

“Might need a raise to afford them.”

Vi snorted. “You drive a fucking beater vehicle and don’t pay any rent or utilities, what the fuck are you spending your money on? You’re probably squirreling it away.”

One of the perks of being a Shadow was living in the cabin for free, so it had been no skin off his nose to move there, even before he knew how nice the living conditions were. And Vi was right, he drove a 1976 Ford Bronco and he’d been banking most of his salary so he could retire and enjoy life before being planted in the ground boots up.

Even so, he loved his Bronco. It was a classic, the V8 engine was in top running condition, it had a manual transmission, was four-wheel-drive, and best of all, he could easily remove the top when the weather was nice. Plus, he didn’t give a shit if it got a dent or a scratch.

He didn’t need a vehicle to impress, it only needed to get him from point A to B. His Bronco did that without a car payment.

“Do you need anyone to go with you?”

“No. This one will be a solo mission. I want to get into the city and get out quickly without being detected. Especially with what I plan to do.”

“All right. Please be safe and check in when you’re done.”

He really couldn’t have a better boss. He just told her he was about to take out some Sicilians and she couldn’t care less. No shock. No worry. Merely “be safe and check in once you’re done plugging bullets into brains.”

“You got it, boss.”