Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 41664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Then I pulled out an old phone from the bottom drawer—the one with five numbers on it and no contact names. Favors, not friends. Currency I’d hoarded like other men hoarded cash. I scrolled to the first number and hit Call.
“Yeah,” a voice answered that sounded like gravel and cigarette smoke.
“It’s Jax.”
A pause that said he was well aware of why I’d called. “Cashing in a favor?”
“Knocking one off the list of…how many?” We both knew it was pointless to try to count.
“What do you need?”
“Information.” I gave him some coordinates and a time window. “If a vehicle parks in any of those spots between now and dawn, I want the plate and the face of every person who steps out of it.”
“And if they don’t smile for the camera?”
“Make ’em.” I hung up and hit the next number.
By the time I killed the fifth call, a map blossomed across my middle screen—pins where new eyes just opened. I tied each to a signal path in the net and smiled without humor. Come on, motherfuckers. Blink for me.
Messages popped up on my phone.
Nitro
Strobed the tremor line and sent me the graph. Fury dropped a list of names that smelled wrong in the past month around Brake Point. Piston texted a photo of the 4Runner—sleek, anonymous, and ours.
Another ping.
Edge
North alley behind the tower has a blind. Lens two. Fix it.
Me
On it.
I fired my response back, rolling my chair to the secondary console, swapping the dead eye with a spare already married to the system. The feed came up sharp—dumpsters, chain-link, and a black cat that looked like an omen of bad luck.
Minutes bled into hours. I worked, breathed, and thought about the woman sleeping in my bed and the way she lived under everything I did. The instinct to go back and sit in a chair by the door until she woke was a weight I carried between clicks. But if I wanted her in my bed permanently, I had to keep her alive first.
She was bound to be up soon, though. And if I wanted to keep her out of this shit as long as possible, I needed something to keep her occupied while I worked.
An idea formed, and I picked up my normal cell and called Kane’s wife, Savannah.
“Hey, Jax. How’s my favorite hacker?”
One side of my mouth hitched up. She loved calling me that because she knew I hated that word unless I was using it to needle someone. It reduced years of genius-level skill to a cheap-ass label associated with basement criminals.
“Cute. But we both know I’m the guy they call when a hacker fucks up.”
Savannah laughed, making me smile, because it reminded me of making Alanna giggle. The prez’s old lady was like another sister to me.
“What do you need?” she asked.
“A favor.”
“Wait…you’re asking for a favor?”
I sighed. “Prez would kick my ass if I actually tried to cash in on one you owe me.”
“It will be our little secret.”
I frowned. “Neither of us keeps secrets from Kane.”
“I know. But it’s so much fun riling him up about the possibility.”
My mouth twisted into a grimace. “First, I don’t want to hear anything about…well, anything between you two. Or Kane’ll put a bullet in my brain just to erase the memory. Second, my punishment for keeping something from him, especially involving his woman, would probably end with losing my patch.”
Savannah chuckled. “Fair enough. What is this favor you need?”
“It’s Lark’s day off, and I am bogged down with club business. Can you round up a couple of old ladies to keep her company?”
Savannah was quiet for a beat, then guessed, “You don’t want her leaving the compound.”
“The clubhouse,” I corrected. I didn’t worry about her asking for details because I’d already mentioned this was about club business, and she knew what that meant.
“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of her.”
“Thanks.” Relief crept through my chest.
Kane’s comm pinged on the inner channel, so I said goodbye to Savannah and got back to work. “Check-in.”
Nitro: “Outer fence sings. Guard shack has teeth.”
Drift: “Neighborhood quiet. One sedan with fogged windows moved along when I smiled at it.”
Piston: “Transport prepped. Keys on hook two.”
Fury: “My whisperer didn’t know he knew something until I helped him remember. Two out-of-towners asking wrong questions at a bar near the courthouse. Headed west.”
Kane: “Can head anywhere they want, as long as it’s outta town.”
I closed my eyes for a heartbeat, let the comfort of brotherhood settle my bones, then stood. The sun hadn’t fully broken yet. If I moved fast, I could be back before Lark opened her eyes and found the space beside her cold.
On the way to my room, I took a quick detour and crossed the lot to the small concrete shack by the back gate. The prospect on shift straightened when he saw me, eyes wide like I might fail him in a test he didn’t know he was taking.