Chapter 25
CIPHER
The abandoned county burn pit sat in a hollow of blackened earth and scrub several miles beyond the last occupied property, hidden from the road by a berm high enough to trap smoke until it climbed above the surrounding hills.
Nomad killed his headlights before the final turn, and the rest of us rolled in behind him without engines, letting the bikes coast down the slope while Ghost’s truck blocked the only usable exit.
Orange light flickered beyond the berm, followed by the hard crack of something striking metal, and the smell of accelerant reached us before we cleared the rise.
Pritchard stood beside a steel barrel pouring fuel over a duffel while flames crawled along one edge of Stowe’s county-issued maintenance laptop.
Pike had a phone on the ground beneath his boot, grinding his heel against the screen as if breaking the glass would erase whatever waited inside the memory.
Stowe hovered several feet away with both hands half raised, his face already carrying the terrified understanding that the motorcycles surrounding the pit did not belong to deputies bringing warrants.
“Step away from the barrel,” I ordered, crossing the open ground with Stryker and Hawkeye flanking me while the other brothers spread around the perimeter. “Hands where I can see them.”
Stowe froze immediately, but Pritchard dropped the fuel can and went for the handgun I knew he carried concealed at the back of his waistband.
Pike ran toward the open cargo area of his SUV, where our surveillance had already confirmed he kept a licensed pistol inside a lockbox. Neither man reached what he wanted.
Pritchard cleared leather but never got the weapon level.
I closed the distance, caught his wrist with both hands, and drove the muzzle into the dirt as his finger clenched around the trigger.
The shot punched a dark crater beside my boot, and I twisted through his elbow before slamming his hand against the steel barrel hard enough to loosen the gun and break something.
He tried to recover, reaching with his other hand while rage and panic turned his face red.
I stripped the weapon from his grip, drove my knee into his ribs, then planted his dominant hand beneath my boot and came down hard.
Bone collapsed under my heel, and his scream tore across the pit as he folded around the ruined fingers.
Across the clearing, Pike reached the SUV and grabbed a tire iron from the cargo area instead of the gun case.
Hawkeye caught him at the rear bumper, avoided the first wild swing, then drove one boot through the side of Pike’s knee.
The joint bent in a direction it had never been designed to go, dropping him with a howl before Hawkeye took the iron away and used two brutal strikes to make sure the bastard stayed down.
Ghost reached Stowe without needing to hurry.
He twisted the technology contractor’s arms behind his back, secured his wrists, and planted him against the side of the van while Stowe babbled, swearing he would cooperate with anything we wanted.
Stryker relieved Pritchard of a second weapon and kicked Pike’s pistol case away from the SUV before either man found another poor decision.
Bishop brought an extinguisher from the truck, and I smothered the flames, then pulled Stowe’s laptop from the barrel with insulated gloves, finding the casing scorched along one edge but the internal status light still blinking.
Pike’s phone had a shattered screen, not a destroyed memory module, and Pritchard’s burner remained safe inside the duffel he had been preparing to burn.
A second bag held external drives, printed account records, and enough cash to confirm the three men had not gathered there for an evening bonfire.
Stowe began talking while we checked the devices.
“There were six jobs,” he blurted, his words coming too fast as Ghost kept him pressed against the van. “Pike found the clients, Pritchard got the information and patrol gaps, and I handled the systems. That’s all. Six.”
“What information?” I asked, setting the damaged laptop on another overturned, slightly charred barrel and connecting it to a write-blocking bridge.
“Whatever the county already had.” Stowe’s eyes followed my hands as though watching me reach his files frightened him more than Ghost’s grip.
“Temporary addresses from case supplements, work locations, vehicle details, vacation-watch records, patrol patterns. Nina was the only Safe at Home participant.”
Stryker’s expression hardened. “How’d you get her address?”
“We didn’t breach Safe at Home.” Stowe shook his head frantically.
“After Jeff violated the restraining order last year, the department made a lawful request for Nina’s real location so investigators and emergency personnel could find her if he came back.
They stored it in a sealed confidential location addendum inside her restricted case file. ”
My gaze shifted to Pritchard, who was kneeling in the dirt cradling his destroyed hand against his chest. His face had gone pale beneath the sweat, and whatever denial he had been assembling died when I looked at him.
I closed the distance between us and grabbed the back of his head, yanking it forward as I drove up my knee.
His nose crushed, then blood began to pour from the appendage.
“He opened the addendum.” It was a statement, not a question.
But Stowe nodded anyway. “Pritchard photographed it and sent the copy to Pike. Pike went out there to confirm Nina still lived at the house, and I erased the audit event showing Pritchard accessed the file. We never touched the state program.”
The first pass across Pritchard’s burner found the exported image of the addendum and the message delivering it to Pike.
Pike’s damaged phone held the photograph confirming Nina at the residence, Jeff’s payment notification, and a message promising that the east-side unit would be occupied by a rollover long enough to give him a response window.
Stowe’s laptop still carried cached authentication history, the deleted audit event, and fragments of the commands used to erase Nina’s call and create the false incident.
Judge stood beside me, reading the recovered headers. “Raines’s warrants already produced the matching provider and banking records. These devices’ll give him the local copies and the direct connection between all three.”
Pike groaned from the dirt and tried to push himself onto his uninjured knee. “Stowe’s covering his own fucking ass. I just ran lawful locates.”
Hawkeye put him down again with a boot between the shoulder blades. “Yeah, cause nothing says lawful like burning phones in an abandoned pit.”
Stowe twisted against Ghost’s hold. “I only ever touched the computer. Pike and Pritchard dealt with the people.”
I crossed to him and caught the front of his shirt, wrenching him away from the van before Ghost released just enough pressure to let me turn him. “Nina bled while your fake call sent help six miles away. You don’t get distance because you watched it happen through a screen.”
I slammed him face-first across the hood, caught his right hand, and bent his wrist backward until it broke.
His scream sharpened when I slammed his other hand so hard against the van that at least three bones snapped.
Satisfaction moved cleanly through me as the fingers he had used to erase frightened people’s calls gave beneath my grip.
When I released him, Ghost hauled him upright, letting him sag against the van with both injured hands cradled against his chest.
Judge looked from Stowe’s crushed hands to Pritchard’s broken nose and Pike’s ruined knee. “Raines can explain injuries after three armed suspects resisted arrest. Three bodies will make him considerably less cooperative.”
“Always about the fucking paperwork,” Hawkeye muttered.
“Didn’t hear you complaining when my paperwork kept you from being forced to perjure yourself last month,” Judge returned.
Hawkeye shrugged but didn’t deny it.
“Just make sure they’re still breathing when the police arrive,” Judge grunted.
I made no promises.
Pritchard received several more reasons to remember that selling information from his own department had been a poor retirement strategy, while Pike learned the broken knee was not the only joint Hawkeye could reach.
They looked relieved by the time Judge stepped away and called Raines directly.
He reported three suspects contained, active evidence destruction, two drawn weapons, and several injuries sustained when the men failed to follow instructions.
Raines was already on his way there, so it was a good thing our punishment had been administered quickly.
He arrived shortly with four deputies, an evidence technician, and two ambulances.
His gaze traveled over the battered and bruised men, the weapons lying nearby, and the half-burned electronics arranged beside the barrel. Then his attention settled on me.
“They appear to have resisted enthusiastically,” he observed.
“None of them understood the word stop.”
Raines stared for a moment before turning toward the scorched laptop. “I have guns, accelerant, attempted destruction of evidence, and three suspects who fled with devices already covered by pending warrants. I can find more productive questions.”
The deputies restrained each man while the medics stabilized their injuries, and the evidence technician began cataloging the phones, drives, cash, documents, and maintenance laptop.
Raines confirmed that Pritchard, Pike, Stowe, and Jeff would face state and county charges for conspiracy, unauthorized access, evidence tampering, stalking, burglary support, obstruction, and every assault the records could tie to the six jobs.
Federal charges were likely once the provider data and interstate financial activity landed with the right office, but I cared more that none of them would touch another person before a cell door closed.
I rode straight to the sheriff’s department after the ambulances and transport vehicles left the pit.
The dispatch floor remained active behind reinforced glass, but Bex saw me through it before I reached the controlled entrance.
She abandoned her chair, crossed the room at a run, and reached me the second Wraith opened the door.
I caught her beneath the arms and lifted her against my chest without caring that dispatchers, deputies, and her father’s office surrounded us.
Her legs wrapped around my hips, both arms locked around my neck, and the first full breath I’d taken all night was all Bex.
I pressed my face into her hair and held her until the cold pressure driving me since Nomad’s call finally released.
“All three are in custody,” I told her when she pulled back enough to search my face. “The devices are secured and the operation is finished.”
Her hands moved over my jaw, shoulders, and knuckles, checking every visible inch before her eyes narrowed at the blood dried near one cuff. “Are you hurt?”
“Not mine.”
Bex studied me for another moment, then slid her fingers into my hair and held my gaze with the firm expression that had once ordered deputies toward a call the system claimed never existed. “Let’s go home, Corbin.”
I lowered her until her boots touched the floor but kept one arm locked around her waist. “It’s like you read my mind, baby.”