Chapter 3
CHAPTER
THREE
Booker
Combing my fingers through my hair, I sit with my head hung low and my elbows propped on my knees, my feet bouncing.
It is unbelievable that I allowed myself to be deceived by a woman who lives under the enemy's roof.
Even though Rip and Indiana emphasized that she remains there against her will, she has still been manipulating me from the very start.
I was falling for her, completely blind to the fact that she was just using me for her own purposes.
“I thought she was helping us,” I tell them, not wanting them to think I was conspiring with the enemy. My voice cracks slightly, the unadulterated exhaustion and betrayal cutting right through my usual defense mechanisms.
I look up, meeting Rip’s looming stare and Indiana’s hardened posture, desperate for them to see the truth in my eyes.
I am the eyes and ears. My job is to see through the digital smoke and mirrors, yet I let a woman blindside me.
Every late-night chat, every encrypted breadcrumb she dropped, I swallowed it whole, thinking I was outsmarting Jerome and his minions.
To find out she was operating right under his roof makes my blood run cold.
The weight of my own stupidity presses on my chest like a lead anvil.
“In a sense, she actually was,” Indiana points out. “I realize this is a bitter pill to swallow, Book, but consider her perspective. If the tables were turned, what the hell would you do?”
“If Elodie were in her child's position, wouldn't you expect Indiana to go to any length to protect her?” Rip asks. The deep empathy he demonstrates for Vixen takes me completely by surprise, as I fully expected him to be rallying the club members to plan a retaliatory attack.
“I absolutely would,” I agree. “But she allowed me to get close to her, knowing full well from the beginning that she’d destroy that trust in the end.”
“Before you spiral into your own thoughts, Book, think about it,” Indiana suggests. “What if her feelings for you actually provided the courage she needed to approach us and request our assistance? What if things aren't the way you think they are?”
Recombing my fingers through my hair until it stands straight up, I look up at them and confess, “I just don’t think that’s a risk I’m willing to take, brothers.”
“Regardless of how you feel about her, we’re going to be teaming up with her. I need your assurance that you won’t let this throw you off balance, brother,” Rip declares.
“I won’t.” I give my word, fully aware of how to switch off my feelings.
Being detached is better than being hostile.
It’s the solitary method for me to walk away when our paths inevitably go separate ways, ensuring my heart stays intact.
“How are we handling the raid we now know is coming?” I deliberately leave out any mention of her being the reason for us knowing about it.
“We’re going to let them carry it out,” Riptide replies, catching me completely off guard.
“What? Why?” I stammer out, stunned that they wouldn’t nip the threat in the bud before the compound is breached.
Indiana steps forward and places a steadying hand on my shoulder. “Because it will compromise Vixen if we do stop it, Booker. I’d never be able to live with myself if something happened to her kid because we don’t want to clean our house.”
“We actually keep the place pretty clean,” I mutter underneath my breath. “We make sure everything is put away and hidden in case something like this was to happen. Any contraband that might cause legal issues for the club is securely locked down in the underground bunker.”
“Before Icer, Indiana, and I head out to West Texas for Pokey’s send-off, we’re still going to run a sweep of the compound,” Riptide tells me. “Just to be on the safe side.”
“That makes sense,” I agree. “We’re normally careful about what we leave out in the open, but we’re human. Mistakes can still happen.”
“Vixen let us know we're under surveillance, so we're calling church to brief the rest of the guys on what's going down," Riptide explains.
"I don't know the specifics of how they're tracking us, but she gave the impression that she has a handle on the situation and will ensure our movements are kept in the dark.”
“Do you trust her?” I ask, my eyes focusing on Rip.
“I have my doubts. I’m not walking into the situation with blinders on, Booker. However, if she delivers on her promises and helps us track down Jerome, I'm prepared to give her a chance,” Riptide replies.
He stands tall, his thick arms remaining crossed over his chest as he holds my eyes.
The flicker of empathy in his eyes takes me by surprise, a contrast to the hardened killer I usually see when the club faces an external threat.
He isn't rushing to pull his weapon or demanding an immediate retaliation against the woman who infiltrated our digital space. Instead, he is measuring the tactical advantage she offers, calculating the risk against the potential reward of finally dragging Jerome out from the deep abyss he’s been hiding in.
“Everyone gets a shot at redemption,” Indiana says, his voice deepening as he leans his weight against the doorframe.
“Hell, I’ve needed a second chance a time or two myself.
We’ve all got baggage we aren't proud of, Book. If this woman is willing to put her life on the line to break free from Jerome and save her kid, the least we can do is give her room to prove she’s legit.
If she’s playing us, we handle it the Kings' way. But until she gives us a real reason to doubt her, we hold our fire and let the situation play out.”
I let their reasoning sink into the turbulent static of my thoughts, evaluating every point they made, and realize I might be rushing to judgment.
When your entire life is built on clear code, moving past a betrayal is difficult—people are either secure assets or active dangers.
Yet, the safety of a young child completely alters the circumstances.
Moving forward, I intend to be highly selective about what I share with her, keeping my emotional defenses completely intact.
Forgiveness will require a lengthy path of redemption on her part, but I will maintain our communication if it provides the opportunity to drag Jerome out of the darkness for good.
When my screen blinks, indicating that I have an incoming call, I draw in a deep breath and release it before hitting the accept button.
I’m shocked when instead of it being a voice call, it’s a video one.
The encryption protocols I set up should have blocked any high-bandwidth feed without multiple overrides, but she has bypassed my security measures with ease, proving once again just how capable she really is.
The camera jitters for a second, catching on the low-light adjustments of her terminal, before the image finally stabilizes and snaps into a devastating clarity.
And what I see has me wishing I could reach into my monitor and yank her out and pull her to my side where I can treat every bruise I see on her battered body.
A deep purple shadow swells beneath her left eye, nearly swelling it shut, while a dark laceration splits her bottom lip, the edges crusted with dried blood.
My knuckles turn white as I grip the edges of my keyboard, an explosive wave of fury surging through my veins.
The detached, analytical mask I had painstakingly built up over the last hour shatters into dust. Jerome did this to her. I know he did.
“Vixen,” I choke out, my voice sounding incredibly thick and raw, stripped of all its usual composure. “What the hell did he do to you?”
She winces on the screen, the slight movement of her jaw causing her to draw in a sharp, pained breath.
She tries to offer one of her characteristic, sassy smirks I usually imagine she wears when we share messages, but the severe damage to her face turns the expression into pure agony.
Despite the heavy bruising and swelling, the fierce, defiant fire in her eyes burns brighter than ever.
She refuses to let him break her spirit, even as she sits deep in the belly of the beast, bleeding from his latest assault.
“I’m fine, Booker,” she whispers, her raspy voice coming through the microphone like broken glass scraping over concrete.
“He just needed a little reassurance that he’s the one pulling the strings.
I played the part, let him think he broke me, and he walked away satisfied.
He thinks the raid on your compound is still on track. ”
“Vixen, explain why you chose a video feed over a standard call,” I demand, as the rage I had fought so desperately to suppress surges back to the surface.
“Was this an attempt to garner sympathy? Were you aware that I’d be furious that you exploited our connection, using our friendship simply as a backdoor into my system? ”
“No, I promise it was just a mistake. My mind is still recovering and everything feels blurred. My system hasn’t fully reset yet.
I wanted to check in and warn you that Jerome’s instability has escalated today,” she whispers, each word steeped in agony.
“He’s watching me closer than he normally does. ”
“If you handle his tech, how is he keeping tabs on you?” I demand. “Explain exactly how he’s pulling that off.”
“Booker, I’m not the only individual with these technical skills he snatched from the streets. Branson actually surpasses my abilities, and with far more at stake, he’s willing to fulfill any order Jerome gives him,” she answers.
“Vixen, what does he have to lose that could possibly outweigh yours?”
She gives a fleeting smile and says, “Jerome is keeping his twin sister, daughter, and niece captive, Booker. None of us are blind to what happens to the women who get his specialized attention.”
“We’re well aware,” I acknowledge. Right then, a sudden realization strikes me—one I’m positive unequivocally escaped Rip and Indiana. “Is Jerome the father of your child?”
“Yes, he is the father of my five-year-old son, Kolter.” She explains that Jerome holds him in an unreachable location behind a guard she has no way to bypass.
Blood ties are completely meaningless to Jerome, and because he will sacrifice anyone to maintain absolute control, he uses the boy as an insurance policy to ensure her total compliance.
“You realize Kolter has a sister, right? Elodie, Indiana’s girl,” I ask.
“To keep her safe, I never looked into his daughter, despite knowing she existed out there. The less information he has, the better off she will be,” Vixen swears.
“Vixen, he already knows her location. He actually abducted Zoey and Elodie from their home not that long ago, held them captive inside an old, abandoned K-Mart warehouse. Although we managed to rescue them, he fled like the coward he is before we could apprehend him.”
Gasping, she covers her mouth to hide her surge of emotion. “Oh, God! I remember that incident. I actually tried to submit an anonymous tip to the authorities, but they disregarded it.”
“Jerome’s dad was the sheriff back then, which explains why,” I tell her.
“I’m aware, and that’s why I went around him and took my report to the Rangers.”
“The Rangers actually disregarded the warning?” I ask in disbelief. I need to get in touch with Nerd so he can pass that along to Rio. Given the West Texas president's ties to that agency, I'm certain he'll want a thorough investigation launched.