Maeve #2
Director approved relocation.
“The Iron Serpents are muscle,” she said. “Transportation and local enforcement.”
Captain nodded. “That’s what Mercer claims.”
“Which means the trafficking ring is bigger than the club,” Peak said.
“Much bigger,” Maeve whispered. It was something she’d suspected but never wanted confirmed. An outlaw motorcycle club could be dismantled. A network stretching across multiple states, with private contractors and someone powerful enough to erase federal investigations, was something else entirely.
Peak folded his arms over his chest. “What aren’t you telling us?”
Captain glanced toward the window. “I think there’s a leak in the club.”
Maeve’s gaze moved automatically to the locked door. “You’re sure?”
“No.” Captain’s jaw tightened. “But the people who attacked us knew too much.”
“Like what?” Peak asked.
“They knew Maeve was at the clubhouse. They knew Mercer had been brought back for questioning. They knew exactly which room church was held in.” Captain looked at Peak. “And they hit your shop less than five minutes before they took down our security system.”
Peak’s expression turned hard. “What about my shop?”
Captain nodded. “The place was tossed.”
“Was anything taken?” Peak asked.
“Your office computer,” Captain said. Peak swore.
Maeve studied him. “Was there anything on it?”
“No. I don’t keep sensitive files there,” Peak said.
“Someone thought you did, though, or they wanted you to know they’d been inside your shop,” Maeve said.
Captain pointed toward him. “That’s what I think.”
Maeve considered the timeline. “Who knew Mercer was at the clubhouse?”
“Every patched member in church,” Captain said.
“That’s too many suspects,” she grumbled.
“That’s my problem.” Peak looked toward Captain’s kutte. “Did you tell anyone you were coming here?”
“No,” Captain said.
“How long have you known about the tracker on my bike?” Peak asked.
“Since we installed it,” Captain said, looking a bit guilty.
“Who else knows about the tracker?” he asked.
Captain released an irritated breath. “Warden and Ruin know.”
“So three people knew how to find us,” Peak said.
“Four,” Maeve corrected. Both men looked at her. “The person who installed the tracker knew.”
Captain’s face darkened. “The tracker was installed by a former prospect.”
“Former because he patched into the club?” Peak asked.
Captain shook his head. “Former because he disappeared four years ago.”
Silence descended over the motel room. “What was his name?” Maeve asked.
“Digger,” Captain said.
“What happened to him?” she asked.
“We thought he ran,” Captain breathed.
“But you no longer think that,” she said. Captain’s expression was answer enough.
Peak crossed to the window and checked the parking lot again. “If the enemy knows about the tracker, they can find us.”
“I disabled it before I knocked on your door,” Captain admitted.
“After driving directly here,” Maeve pointed out.
Captain cursed. “I circled for thirty minutes. Nobody followed me.”
“That you saw,” Maeve said. He shot her an angry look, but she refused to apologize. People who believed they could never be followed were usually the easiest to track.
Captain pulled his keys from his pocket. “You need to move.”
“Now?” Peak asked.
“Before daylight,” Captain said. Maeve looked toward the bed, and for one ridiculous moment, disappointment joined the fear twisting through her. She barely allowed herself to settle and hadn’t accepted that she could close her eyes for a few hours while someone else watched the door.
“We can’t keep running without a plan,” she said.
Captain nodded. “You have a few hours. I’ll send new coordinates before dawn.”
“For where?” Peak asked.
“A property nobody in the club knows about,” Captain assured.
“You just said someone inside the club is talking,” Peak reminded.
“Exactly why I didn’t say it belonged to the club.” Captain put his hat back on. “It belonged to my mother.”
Peak’s eyebrows rose. “You had a mother?” Captain gave him a look that would have frightened most people, but Peak just grinned. “Couldn’t resist.”
“Keep testing me, and you’ll find out why Warden isn’t the only man in this club who can make people disappear.” Despite everything, Maeve smiled. His gaze shifted from her to Peak and back again.
“Something funny?” he asked.
“No,” she said quickly.
“Good.” He walked to the door but stopped with his hand on the deadbolt. “Mercer gave us one more thing.”
Maeve’s smile disappeared. “What was it?”
“He said Wren wasn’t taken because of what she knew.”
Maeve felt the room tilt. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“He said she was taken because of what she could do,” Captain said.
Peak looked toward the encoded strip on the dresser. “The Director needed a programmer.” Captain nodded, and Maeve’s heart twisted painfully in her chest.
For eighteen months, she’d imagined every possible horror Wren might have faced. Now a new one formed of Wren chained to a desk and forced to work. Writing code that helped her captors move women, hide money, and erase lives.
“She wouldn’t help them,” Maeve whispered.
Peak moved closer. “She would if refusing meant dying.”
Maeve turned on him. “My sister isn’t a criminal.”
“I didn’t say she was,” Peak said.
“You implied—”
“I implied she’s a survivor.” Peak’s voice remained calm. “If Wren is anything like you, she did whatever she had to do while finding a way to fight back.”
His gaze moved to the bloodstained message.
“Maybe this is how.” Maeve looked at the coded strip again.
Tide before dawn. The phrase was meant for her.
Maybe Wren had known Mercer would carry it.
Maybe she’d hidden the code in a place he wouldn’t recognize.
Or maybe she’d simply needed to put something familiar into the world to remind herself who she was.
“She’s alive,” Maeve said.
Captain paused. “Mercer didn’t confirm that.”
“He didn’t have to.” She pointed toward the evidence bag. “Wren created that code. If Mercer had it sewn into his jacket, then he’d been close enough to get it from her.”
Peak nodded slowly. “And if the message refers to the Virginia station, she was alive at least three months ago.” The problem was—three months wasn’t today. But it was more than Maeve had possessed yesterday.
Captain opened the door an inch and scanned the parking lot. “I’ll contact you before dawn with the coordinates for my mother’s old cabin.”
“Use the burner,” Peak said.
“I know how this works,” Captain mumbled.
“Then stop tracking my bike,” Peak spat.
Captain looked back at him. “Stay alive long enough to complain about it later.” Then his gaze settled on Maeve.
“We’ll find your sister.” She wanted to believe him.
Instead of believing a promise that Captain might not be able to keep, she simply nodded.
Captain slipped outside and closed the door behind him.
Peak locked it again, replacing the chain before checking the window.
Maeve stood near the dresser, staring at the coded strip inside the plastic bag. “She left that for me.”
Peak came to stand beside her. “Looks that way.”
“What if we can’t decode it?” she asked.
“We will,” he promised. “We’re the two best hackers I’ve ever met, honey.”
Despite herself, she smiled faintly. “I’m betting that I’m the only other hacker you know, Peak.”
He shrugged. “Yep, and you’re the second-best hacker I’ve ever met.”
“Who’s the best?” she questioned, already knowing the answer.
“Um, me,” he said, puffing out his chest, making her giggle.
“There’s the ego again,” she grumbled.
“It’s not ego, it’s confidence,” he insisted.
“No, it’s delusion,” she teased.
His mouth twitched. “You seem to like to insult me every time things get too serious.”
Maeve looked away. “I don’t do that.”
“You absolutely do.”
She wrapped her arms around her body, but Peak gently reached for her right hand before she could hide it. “Your palm is bleeding.” She looked down and saw that four small crescents marked her skin where her fingernails had cut into it. She hadn’t felt it happen.
Peak guided her toward the bed. “Sit,” he ordered.
“Now who’s being bossy?” she asked.
“I learned from you.” She sat on the edge of the mattress while he retrieved the tiny first-aid kit from the bathroom.
He knelt in front of her, taking her hand again.
The position felt strangely intimate. Peak’s head was bent over her palm, his dark hair falling across his forehead as he cleaned the cuts.
His fingers were rough from years of working on motorcycles, but his touch was careful.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said.
“I know, but you did it for me,” he said. “Besides, I want to.”
She watched him apply a thin strip of gauze. “You really believe Wren left that message?”
Peak looked up at her. “Yes.”
“Why?”