Chapter 4 #2
New angles. New directions. But it means I need information I don't have—details about business dealings and partnership proposals before the fires started.
"I need to talk to Pete, Beth, Danny, Mike," I say. "Ask them directly about business proposals, partnership offers. Anything that establishes a pattern beyond what we've been seeing."
"I can help." Mira meets my gaze. "I have access to financial records for the businesses my company insured. If there's a pattern in how those businesses were approached or targeted, financial records might show it."
We've been adversaries since we met. Each viewing the other as obstacle or threat. But standing here with evidence that doesn't fit either of our theories, maybe forced cooperation makes tactical sense.
Doesn't mean I trust her. Just means she's useful.
"You'd share that information?" I ask, testing boundaries.
"If you share what you know about the victims. Their business operations, personal situations, anything that helps figure out what we're missing." She holds my gaze. "We're both trying to find the truth. Goes faster if we stop fighting each other."
"Or you're trying to get access to my brothers so you can build your fraud case from the inside."
"Or you're trying to control my investigation by feeding me only what makes the Brotherhood look innocent."
Fair point. Neither of us trusts the other, and we're both right not to.
"I know where to find the victims," I say, making the calculation.
"Can get you face-to-face with Pete, Beth, Danny, Mike.
They'll talk to me. Might talk to you if I vouch for you.
But understand something: first sign you're using this access to build a fraud case against innocent people, I end the cooperation. Permanently."
“The moment I see you manipulating evidence or witnesses, I report you to the state fire marshal and the company.”
"Fair enough." I pull out my phone, checking the time. "Pete's at his new storage facility. We start there."
"I'll follow you." She gestures toward her hatchback.
I look at the car, then back at Mira. If we're doing this—if circumstances are forcing cooperation—then she needs to show up right. People talk differently when they think you're on their side, and rolling up in her insurance investigator car won't get honest answers.
"Leave your car, you're riding with me," I say, watching her expression shift. I jerk my chin toward my truck. "We'll swing by my place and get my bike. You show up on a Harley instead of that company sedan, people might actually talk to you."
She blinks. "On your bike?"
"On my bike. You show up in your car, Pete sees an insurance investigator asking questions. You show up on the back of my bike, he sees someone I trust enough to bring around. Big difference in what he'll tell us."
"That's manipulation."
"That's strategy." I meet her gaze directly. "You want honest answers or guarded responses? Your choice."
She studies me for a long moment, and I can see her working through implications. Getting on the back of my bike means more than transportation. Means accepting my lead in how we approach this. Means allowing herself to be seen as connected to me rather than investigating me.
Means crossing a line she can't uncross.
"Fine, I’ll ride with you" she says. “But I’ll leave my car at your shop."
"Works for me."
At my bike I pull the spare helmet from my saddlebag and hold it out. "Ever been on a bike before?"
"Once. College boyfriend thought it was romantic." Her mouth curves slightly, but there's wariness underneath. "It was terrifying."
"This won't be romantic." I swing onto the bike and wait. "But it'll probably still be terrifying."
Mira hesitates before climbing on behind me. Her hands rest lightly on my sides, uncertain. I reach back and grab her wrists, pulling her arms tight around my waist, positioning her the way she needs to be.
"Hold on tight," I tell her. "Lean when I lean. Fight the movement, and you'll throw us both off balance."
"Got it." Her arms tighten, and I feel her chest press against my back.
The Harley rumbles to life. I give her a moment to adjust before pulling out onto the street. The weight and balance shifts with her added presence, but I compensate automatically.
We head north toward Pete's storage facility. Mira's grip tightens as I accelerate, her body rigid at first, fighting the bike's movement. I take a curve harder than necessary, forcing her to lean or fall, and she gasps but leans into it.
Learning fast.
By the time we hit the main road, she's moving with the bike instead of against it. Her thighs press against mine, chest against my back, arms locked around my waist. Every shift brings her closer, every curve makes her hold tighter.
Wind rushes past, carrying ocean salt and exhaust. I feel her breath against my neck when I lean forward into acceleration, feel the tension in her muscles as she adjusts to speed.
Mira’s not hesitating anymore. She’s moving with me like she's starting to understand how this works.
And that awareness—her body pressed against mine, her trust in my ability to keep her safe despite everything between us—does something I don't want to examine too closely. Something that goes beyond tactical assessment of whether she's competent or useful.
Something dangerous.
Because Mira Vaughn is still investigating my brothers for fraud. Still convinced we might be criminals. And getting involved with someone who thinks you're guilty is the kind of stupid that gets people hurt.
But feeling her hold tighter as I take another curve, feeling her body move in sync with mine, I can't quite convince myself to care about smart decisions.