“It doesn’t matter whether he’s scared or not. He’s giving up leverage. I’d keep the son of a US senator, if it were me.”

“Possibly the son of the next president,” she pointed out.

“I doubt it. The Howard family hasn’t lost an election since before the Q was formed.”

“Who are you going to send?”

“Not you, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He gave her a look that she knew very well—he had zero faith in her abilities.

She considered arguing, but she actually didn’t want to transport the dude anywhere either.

“Maybe whoever you send can figure out why our shipments keep getting held up,” she said.

“Maybe.” He braced his hand against the side of the truck as he peered under the hood. “This wouldn’t be a problem if Lopez would just let me put a team together and take the north.”

Maisie rolled her eyes. Declan was convinced that he could take the north from the Spencer family, if just given the opportunity.

Lopez pointed out—correctly—that trying to take the whole Q for themselves meant a bloody battle, with lots of lives lost.

Declan said it was worth it, to stop having to deal with the Spencers to get shipments from the US. They desperately needed the medical supplies in those shipments, and relying on the north to deliver them was risky. And Declan thought it was only a matter of time until the north invaded them anyway. He’d always been the type to shoot first, just in case, and ask no questions later.

Maisie thought that was a dumb strategy, but no one had asked her opinion.

“Are you done collecting for the day?” Declan asked.

“No.”

“Then get to it.” He gestured to her bloody knuckles. “Did you break your hand again?”

“No,” she lied. The hand ached. She’d almost certainly broken her knuckle for the third—or was it fourth?—time. Her last break had barely fully healed. But Declan didn’t need another reason to think she was weak. “You know you have a problem, right? If people aren’t getting their stuff, they’re not going to pay. The Reapers are increasing their numbers. We might have a problem there.”

“I got your text.”

“Are you going to do something about it?” she asked impatiently.

“The Reapers have been whining about something or other for as long as I can remember.”

“Yeah, but people may think they have a point this time. They deliver a pretty great pitch about the benefits of their stupid ‘no leader, we all do what we want’ lifestyle.”

“If it’s stupid, then we don’t need to worry about it.”

“Not everyone is as smart as me.”

Declan just squinted at her. He never had appreciated her sense of humor.

She sighed. “If we can’t deliver what they need, we should give people a break from rent for a week.”

“They still get plenty.”

“They’re getting angry. We can smooth things over, make people feel better about—”

“Make people feel better?” He straightened, cocking an eyebrow. “I’m not a fucking shrink. People are going to pay because I’m going to go knock their heads together if they don’t. I don’t give a shit about their feelings. Now, can you collect or not? Because you can go—”