Chapter Twenty-Two
Justice
Jet is sitting on the edge of my bed when I walk in, the morning light cutting through the blinds making thin, dusty lines across her face. A pistol rests in her lap, hands wrapped around it like it’s the only thing keeping her steady.
She looks up when she hears me. “You talked to Creed?”
“Yeah.” The word comes out rough. “And Ronan.”
Her brows knit. “What did he say?”
Leaning against the wall, I cross my arms, trying to keep my voice level. “It’s bad. Worse than we thought.”
Her bitter laugh fills the room. “After tonight, I’m not sure what counts as worse.”
“The Crimson Wheelers,” I start, and her face tightens instantly. “They weren’t acting alone, Jet. They were working for the Rivet Knights… and Hector Sanchez was bankrolling the whole thing.”
She blinks, stunned. “Why?”
Shaking my head, I ignore her question and say, “Ronan confirmed it. The Rivet Knights are his muscle. The Wheelers were his dirty little side project. And you…” My throat tightens, but I force the words out. “You’re the last loose end.”
The color drains from her face. “Why me?”
“Because you got away. Because you saw too much. And because someone hid something before you escaped.”
Her fingers tighten on the gun. “I don’t have anything.”
“Not on you,” I say. “But maybe you know something without realizing it, names, places, conversations? Ronan said Hector’s after a ledger the Wheelers kept. It connects him to every illegal deal he’s made. When their compound went down, the ledger vanished. He thinks you took it.”
Jet shakes her head slowly. “I don’t remember any ledger, and you burned it all to the ground.”
“Doesn’t matter. Hector believes you do.”
I take a step closer, lowering my voice. “It’s why the Rivet Knights hit us. They’re cleaning house for him.”
Her eyes fill, not with tears, but with fire. “I’m not running again.”
“Good.”
The word hangs between us, thick with everything we’re not saying. Jet’s breathing hard, chest rising and falling like she’s bracing for impact. I reach up slowly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. She doesn’t pull back.
“You scare the hell out of me,” she whispers.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “You do the same to me.”
Her lips part a fraction, and that’s all the invitation I need. I lean in, giving her every chance to stop me. She doesn’t.
Our mouths meet, soft at first, then deeper. There’s no rush, no demand. Her fingers find my shirt, curling in the fabric, holding on like she’s afraid the world might rip us apart.
When the kiss breaks, her forehead rests against mine.
“Justice…” she breathes.
“I’ve got you,” I tell her, voice low. “No one’s taking you from me.”
For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of our breathing and the quiet promise that, whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.
In the clubhouse, the war room’s crowded. Highway, Winchester, Reaper and the other patched-in brothers are at their places around the table. Jet stands near the door, arms crossed like a shield, watching the room. Creed doesn’t waste time.
“Ronan talked,” he says. “He confirmed the Rivet Knights are running for Sanchez. The Wheelers were his expendable muscle.”
Winchester rubs his jaw. “Sanchez has money. Why use MCs?”
“Because we’re expendable,” comes the answer. “You use pawns when you don’t want blood on your hands.”
Clearing my throat, I say, “There were rumors of a ledger. The Wheelers kept it for leverage on Hector, we think.” All eyes swivel to me. “We went out there, searched through the rubble. If there was a ledger, the fire took it.”
Jet’s head snaps up. “So it’s gone?”
“Either gone or moved,” Winchester says flatly. “Someone wanted it hidden and gone.”
A heavy silence falls. Creed presses his hands to the table, knuckles white. “What about the women we rescued from the Wheelers?” he asks slowly, looking at Jet. “You weren’t the only one they took.”
The room leans in. Jet’s jaw tightens.
“One of the other girls could have the ledger, or at least remember where it went?” I suggest.
A flicker crosses Jet’s face. “I remember a girl, her name was Maria. She used to clean for them. Had access to everything.” Her voice goes distant. “I don’t know where she went when we escaped.”
“Find Maria,” Creed says. “Quiet. Fast. If she’s alive and knows anything, we need her.”
Winchester thumbs his phone. “I’ll scan contacts and get Fingers to check his feeds. Fingers and his missus Nerd are good at finding people who don’t want to be found.”
Jet meets my eyes. “Can I help?”
Creed’s look is as hard as nails. “No. You don’t go out there and get nabbed again. You stay. Justice, make sure she’s safe.”
Nothing’s solved, but a line’s been drawn. The ledger might be ash, or it might be in someone else’s hands. Either way, it’s time to start pulling threads.