Maeve
Rain battered the roof hard enough to hide smaller sounds. She heard footsteps, followed by the click of a weapon being readied. Anything could be waiting on the other side of that faded blue door. The knock came again—three slow and two quick.
Peak glanced back at her. “Bathroom.”
“No,” she whispered.
“I’m not hiding in the bathroom while you answer the door,” she insisted.
“I’m not answering it,” he said.
“Then why do I need to move?” she asked.
“So if they start shooting through the door, you aren’t standing directly behind it.
” That made more sense than she wanted it to.
She backed toward the bathroom entrance but didn’t go inside.
The narrow wall gave her cover while leaving the door in her line of sight.
Peak gave one sharp nod, letting her know that it was good enough.
A man’s voice came through the door. “Peak.”
Maeve’s heart jumped. The voice sounded like Warden. She recognized the deep growl immediately. Peak still didn’t relax. “Say something only you’d know.”
Silence followed, and then Warden muttered, “You cried when your grandmother made you sell that red piece-of-shit dirt bike you had when you were fifteen.”
Maeve looked at Peak. Even in the darkness, she could see his expression harden. “I did not cry.”
“You locked yourself in the garage for two days,” Warden countered.
“I was fixing it,” Peak insisted.
“You were holding a funeral for the damn thing,” Warden shouted. Maeve’s mouth twitched despite the gun in her hand. Peak remained beside the door.
“Who’s with you?” he asked.
“Nobody,” Warden said.
“Where’s your bike?” Peak asked.
“Behind the seafood place across the highway,” Warden answered.
“Why did you park over there?”
“Because I’m making sure I wasn’t followed,” Warden grumbled. I’m not a complete idiot.
“That remains open for debate,” Peak teased.
“Open the damn door,” Warden ordered. Peak looked toward Maeve again, and she shook her head. Warden might be telling the truth, but he might also have a gun pressed into his back.
Peak seemed to reach the same conclusion. “Turn around,” he ordered.
“Do what now?” Warden asked.
“Face the parking lot and put your hands on the wall.” Warden cursed loud enough to be heard over the rain. “Do it,” Peak said.
The silence stretched for several seconds until Warden finally answered. “Done.” Peak moved to the window and lifted the curtain less than an inch, and Maeve held her breath.
“What do you see?” she whispered.
“Just him,” Peak said.
“Can you see his hands?” she asked.
“Yes,” Peak breathed.
“Anyone in the truck?” she questioned.
“There is no truck.” Peak studied the parking lot longer. “He must have parked across the street, like he said.” Warden remained still outside, facing away from the room with his hands braced against the wet siding. If anyone else was watching, they were well hidden.
Peak lowered the curtain. “I’m opening it.” Maeve nodded and adjusted her stance. Peak unlocked the deadbolt but left the chain in place. He opened the door a few inches, his pistol angled through the gap.
Warden didn’t turn around. “I’m wet, pissed off, and standing outside a motel room that half-naked people rent by the hour. You planning on staring at my ass all night?”
Peak’s head tilted. “Did Captain send you?”
“No.” That stopped him. Maeve felt the tension in the room sharpen.
“Then why are you here?” Peak asked.
“Because Captain is missing,” Warden growled. The words landed harder than the thunder.
Maeve stepped out from behind the wall. “What do you mean, missing?”
Warden glanced over his shoulder. “Can I come inside before somebody puts a bullet through my spine?” Peak closed the door long enough to remove the chain, then opened it again.
Warden moved fast, stepping inside and immediately turned to help Peak secure the door.
Rain covered his black shirt, and water ran from his beard onto the motel carpet.
Maeve kept her pistol trained on him, and Warden looked at it. “You don’t trust me?”
“I barely know you,” she insisted.
“You trusted me enough to eat the burger I brought you,” he reminded.
“I was starving,” she defended.
“Still counts.”
Peak moved away from the door but didn’t lower his weapon. “Start talking.”
Warden removed a wet burner phone from his pocket and tossed it onto the bed. “Captain left the temporary clubhouse last night, and never came back.”
Maeve frowned. “He came here.”
“We know.”
Peak and Maeve exchanged a look. “Who is we?” Peak asked.
“Me and Ruin,” Warden said.
“Captain told you where he was going?” Peak asked.
“No. We found his truck.”
“Where?” Maeve asked.
“At an abandoned gas station about fifteen miles north of here,” Warden said.
Maeve’s stomach tightened. “Was there blood?”
“No,” Warden said.
“Signs of a struggle?” Peak asked.
Warden shook his head. “The driver’s door was open. Keys were still in the ignition. His phone was smashed on the ground.”
Peak’s gaze shifted toward the motel door. “He left here last night.”
“Then somebody intercepted him fast,” Warden said.
“Or he never intended to go back to the clubhouse,” Maeve said. Both men looked at her. She lowered the pistol slightly but kept it ready. “Captain warned us there was a mole in the Grave Prowlers. He gave us coordinates and a burner phone. Then he left alone.”
Warden folded his arms over his chest. “You think Captain set you up?”
“I think we need to consider every possibility,” Maeve insisted.
Peak nodded. “She’s right.”
Warden’s expression darkened. “Captain would cut off his own hand before betraying this club.”
“Maybe he didn’t have a choice,” Maeve said.
“Captain always has a choice,” Warden growled.
“No one always has a choice.” The certainty in her voice silenced him. She had learned that lesson the hard way. People made brave promises until someone threatened the right person—a child, a wife, or a sister. Loyalty wasn’t always broken with money. Sometimes it was broken with terror.
Peak retrieved the phone from the bed. “How did you find us?”
Warden glanced toward the window. “Tracker on your bike.”
Peak swore. “Captain said he disabled it.”
“He disabled the club’s tracker,” Warden said.
Maeve stared at him. “There’s more than one?”
“Apparently,” Warden said.
Peak’s expression became deadly calm. “What did you find?”
Warden reached inside his shirt and pulled out a small black device wrapped in plastic. “This was under the rear fender.” Peak took it. It was barely larger than a coin.
Maeve moved closer. “Commercial model?”
“No markings,” Peak said.
“Custom?” she asked.
“Looks like it.” He turned the device over. A thin strip of adhesive covered the back, and the edges were clean. “It has been recently attached.”
“How recently?” she asked.
“Couldn’t say without examining the adhesive.”
Warden looked between them. “You two always talk like that?”
“Yes,” they answered together.
Warden shook his head. “Damn hackers.”
Peak set the tracker on the dresser. “If they tracked the bike, they know this motel.”
“That’s why you need to leave,” Warden said.
“We were already planning to.”
“Good. You’ll ride with me.”
Maeve didn’t like the way he said it. “Where to?”
“Safehouse,” Warden said.
“Which one?” she asked.
“One Captain doesn’t know about.”
Peak’s eyebrows rose. “You have a safehouse Captain doesn’t know about?”
Warden shrugged. “I have hobbies.”
Maeve stared at him. “Building secret houses?”
“Staying alive.” The answer made sense.
Peak walked toward the chair where his kutte hung. “We aren’t going anywhere until we know why you came instead of Ruin.”
Warden’s face tightened. “Ruin is watching Mercer.”
“Mercer is still alive?” Maeve asked.
“For now.”
Maeve stepped closer. “Has he said anything else about Wren?” Warden looked at her. The hesitation lasted only a moment, but it was enough.
“What aren’t you telling me?” she demanded.
“He gave us a name,” Warden said.
Her heart pounded. “Whose?”
“A woman named Dr. Elaine Voss.” Maeve searched her memory but came up with nothing.
“What does she have to do with Wren?” she asked.
“Mercer claims Voss runs a facility where the Director keeps people he considers useful.”
Peak pulled on his shirt. “Programmers?”
“Programmers, chemists, accountants—anybody with skills the organization can exploit,” Warden said.
Maeve’s stomach turned. There was a facility. The word sounded cleaner than prison, but that was probably the point. “Where is it?” she asked.
“He wouldn’t say,” Warden said.
“Then make him say.”
Warden’s gaze remained steady. “We tried.”
“You didn’t try hard enough,” Maeve shouted.
Peak stepped beside her. “Maeve.”
“No.” She turned on him. “Mercer knows where my sister is. He’s been carrying part of her code in his jacket, and all anyone keeps telling me is that he won’t talk.”
“We can’t kill him before he gives us the answer,” Peak said.
“I didn’t say kill him,” Maeve said.
Warden raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?” Maeve looked toward the window.
She didn’t know anymore. Eighteen months ago, she would have been horrified by the idea of hurting someone for information.
Now she could picture Mercer tied to a chair while she asked him the same question until he answered.
Where was Wren? What had they done to her?
Was she alone? Was she afraid? Was she still waiting for Maeve to find her?
“I need to talk to him,” she said.
Warden shook his head. “Not happening.”
“He knows me,” she said.
“That’s exactly why it isn’t happening,” Peak said.
“I can get inside his head,” she insisted
“He can get inside yours,” Peak said.
“He already has.” The admission hung in the room.
Peak’s hand settled against the small of her back.
The contact was light, but grounding. Warden’s gaze dropped to Peak’s hand, then traveled toward the single bed and the scattered clothes they hadn’t had time to completely gather. Maeve felt heat creep up her neck.
Warden’s mouth twitched. “This is why neither of you answered your phones?”
Peak’s expression turned flat. “Choose your next words carefully.”