Chapter 29
WRECKER
The cold air bites at my skin as we walk back to the clubhouse, boots crunching over gravel. My heart hammers with every step, but it’s not just nerves. There’s something else, something I haven’t felt in weeks.
Inside, Whale is already digging through the coat closet. He tosses us our old jackets, stiff with worn leather and memories. He hands me a helmet, the familiar weight settling on my palm. “Keep your head down,” he says. “No showboating.”
Nico laughs, claps him on the shoulder, and slips his helmet on. I pull mine over my head, tightening the strap, the scent of old sweat and rain-soaked rides flooding back. Even with the danger, I can’t help the grin tugging at my mouth.
We walk out to the front of the clubhouse where the bikes are lined up, metal catching the pale morning light.
They’re not ours, not really, but just swinging a leg over the seat makes my blood surge.
I settle in, hands closing around the grips.
The engine rumbles to life beneath me. For a second, I let myself just breathe.
Even with everything wrong in the world, nothing feels like this.
Nico glances over, visor down. “Ready?”
I nod, heart thumping, feeling the power under me. “Let’s ride.”
We roll into town with the sun just beginning to warm the rooftops.
The engines vibrate beneath us, Nico riding close, Whale just behind.
For a minute, it feels almost good—like those early days, before we ever found the club, just me and my brother chasing the horizon.
I remember what it felt like to ride for no one but ourselves.
That feeling doesn’t last. As we pass the old gas station, something catches my eye up ahead.
Blue and red lights flicker through the morning haze.
There’s a roadblock stretched across Main Street.
Two police cars, doors open, officers standing by, all of them watching us.
Leaning against a black sedan is Rodriguez, arms folded, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses.
My grip tightens on the handlebars. Nico glances at me, jaw set. There’s nowhere to turn around. We ease the bikes up to the checkpoint, engines rumbling low.
One officer steps forward, hand resting on his holster, motioning for us to stop. Whale pulls up next to me, saying nothing. Rodriguez pushes off his car, his gaze fixed on us.
Whale clears his throat and speaks up, his voice carrying just the right mix of boredom and authority. “Morning, officers. Just passing through.”
The cop eyes us, but Whale doesn’t blink.
Nico keeps his helmet facing straight ahead.
I can feel sweat prick my back as Rodriguez approaches, his steps slow and deliberate.
This is the first time I’ve seen him up close since the day they dragged us out of the courtroom.
Every muscle in my body is ready to snap, but I force myself to keep still.
Rodriguez stops right in front of me, so close I can smell his cologne over the engine oil. He leans down, peering into my helmet, searching my face for anything familiar. I don’t flinch. My jaw is tight, anger simmering under the surface, but I don’t give him a word.
The air crackles between us. Just when I think he’s about to say something, a burst of static breaks the tension. The radio on the police cruiser hisses and a voice comes through. “Dispatch to all units, possible suspect vehicle found—two towns over. Need backup.”
Rodriguez straightens, glancing over his shoulder at the officer by the car. The cop hesitates, then looks back at Whale. “You boys aren’t in any trouble, are you?”
Whale shakes his head, casual as ever. “Just picking up some supplies.”
Rodriguez stares at us for another second, his suspicion clear, but he finally steps aside. “Go on, then. But don’t leave town.”
We wait for the signal, then ease the bikes past the barricade. My hands are shaking, but I keep my head down, focusing on the road ahead until we’re clear. It’s not until we’re a few blocks away that I finally let out the breath I’d been holding.
We pull up at Wilson Decker’s place, a tidy brick house with flowers out front and a new mailbox. Whale parks his bike by the curb, and Nico and I follow, helmets still on. We walk up the steps and head straight through the front door.
Wilson’s in the kitchen, coffee mug halfway to his lips, the breakfast table set with toast and eggs. His wife stands by the fridge, startled. She opens her mouth to say something but falls silent when she sees three bikers in her home.
“Excuse us, ma’am,” Whale says with a forced politeness, never dropping the edge in his voice.
Nico nudges me, and we walk straight for the den, crowding Wilson ahead of us. The old man’s eyes dart between us, nervous but not sure what’s happening yet.
It’s only when the den door closes behind us and I pull off my helmet that Wilson’s jaw drops. Nico follows suit, tugging off his helmet, and Whale stands by the door, arms folded.
Wilson’s face goes pale. His hands start to shake. “Levi? Nico? What the hell—how did you—?”
I don’t give him a chance to recover. “Sit down, Wilson.”
He drops into the armchair, still staring like he’s seen a ghost.
Wilson tries to speak, stammering, “Look, I’m sorry about what happened, I tried to—”
I cut him off, stepping closer. “Cut your bullshit. No more stories. You’re going to tell us everything, and you’re going to do it now.”
Wilson’s knees are bouncing. He glances at the closed door like he’s hoping his wife will barge in and save him, but Whale just blocks the exit and stares him down.
I take a slow step closer. “Start talking, Wilson. Why did you disappear on us? Where’s all that loyalty you promised?”
Nico stands over him, eyes cold. “You said you had our backs. But the second we got hauled in, you vanished. You working with Jinn now too?”
Wilson shakes his head, sweating. “No, no—listen, I swear, I’m not part of that. I—I got threatened, all right? I was told to keep my distance or I’d end up in a cell right next to you.”
I cross my arms, not buying a word. “By who?”
He swallows, voice barely a whisper. “Rodriguez. The ATF guy. He showed up at my office after you were arrested. Said he’d make me disappear if I tried to get involved. Told me to forget about you three.”
Nico grits his teeth. “And you just listened? All those years, Wilson. You folded that easy?”
Wilson wipes his forehead, looking desperate. “I didn’t have a choice. You don’t know what that man’s capable of. He made it clear this went deeper than the club. Jinn had something on him—I don’t know what, but Rodriguez did whatever Jinn wanted.”
“What do we do next?” Nico says, voice low. “We need to find Jinn and soon. He needs to own up to what he did.”
Wilson shakes his head. “Impossible. He’s vanished. Rodriguez is making sure he stays that way. Trust me, I’ve tried.”
I clench my fists, frustration knotting in my chest. “We’re running out of time, Wilson. You have to help us. Carrie risked everything. She broke us out of jail just to warn us. We owe her more than a prison sentence.”
Wilson’s eyes widen. “She did what?”
Nico nods, jaw set. “She broke us out. The plan was all hers. Without her, we’d be dead.”
Wilson lets out a shaky breath. “That’s a very serious offense. If you three are caught, you’ll go away for a long time. Carrie too. There’s no mercy for escapees—not when the feds are involved.”
A heavy silence settles. My shoulders slump. For the first time, I let myself think about what might happen to Carrie if we lose.
But then Wilson’s voice softens, and he glances around the room.
“Unless…unless you can prove Rodriguez is dirty. If you get dirt on him—show that he was working with Jinn, that he set you up, that your lives were in real danger—then you’d have a chance.
Under extraordinary circumstances, with enough evidence, you could make the case that you had no choice but to run. ”
Hope flickers in my chest. It’s not much, but it’s something.
Nico leans forward, eyes sharp. “Where do we start?”
Wilson rubs his temples, still looking like he wants to disappear. “Getting proof on a federal agent isn’t easy. Rodriguez covers his tracks. And if Jinn is hiding, it’s because Rodriguez set it up. They’re protecting each other.”
Nico crosses his arms. “There’s always something. People like Rodriguez get careless when they think they’re untouchable.”
I press, not letting Wilson off the hook. “You must have contacts. Friends in law, someone who can help.”
“Marcy said Rodriguez tried to arrest Jinn a while back,” Nico explains. “Someone tipped the ATF off about a drug deal. That’s where they first crossed paths. They started working together shortly after that, at least that’s what we presume. That’s when the setup started.”
I watch Wilson’s reaction, looking for any flicker of recognition. “You think Rodriguez has done this before?” I ask.
Wilson sighs, rubbing his chin. “Wouldn’t surprise me. Some agents build their whole careers on controlling the right informants. If Jinn had something Rodriguez wanted, or was willing to pay for protection, that’s motive enough.”
Nico leans forward. “We need to find proof. Bank records, some kind of a digital trail, whatever connects Rodriguez to Jinn. There has to be something—some mistake he’s made.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Wilson heads toward the door, glancing back at us. “Lay low, both of you. Don’t even poke your heads out unless I say it’s clear.”
He slips out, closing the den door quietly behind him.
I sit back, staring at the old family photos on Wilson’s walls, and for the first time in a while, I start to believe we might actually have a chance.
We make our way back to the outbuilding, cutting through wet grass, the early sun glinting off the dew. The morning is quiet except for the distant sound of a passing truck and the muffled birdsong around us.