Peak
He lived on the Eastern Shore in Maryland, just before the Delaware line. That’s where he opened his shop, wanting to stay close to home and family after his father passed. He already had a big house to live in, and he knew everyone in town, so sticking around was a no-brainer.
His father had spent countless hours trying to convince him to use his degree, but sitting in a stuffy office all day long wasn’t something that appealed to him.
It was his choice to major in computer programming, but when Uncle Sam tried to recruit him as a hacker for the government, he refused.
He graduated from the Ivy League school that his grandfather’s money had paid for, and shoved his diploma into his desk drawer.
Of course, his father found out about the government’s offer and told him that he was a fool for not taking it, but he was good at playing the fool.
Now, his club was trying to rope him into becoming their “Hacker,” and that was the last thing that he wanted to do.
Gone were the days when bikers would just get together to ride up and down Ocean Highway, or sit in the clubhouse to have a few beers.
No, now, they had hackers who could spy on other clubs, and potentially take them down if they got too close to your own club’s business.
“Tell me you ain’t hiding out in here again,” a voice called from the open doorway.
Peak didn’t look up. “It’s not really considered hiding away if my shop’s open, is it?
” he asked. Boots crossed the concrete floor, slow and familiar.
Warden, all six-foot-four of him, was standing in his shop, and that was never a good sign.
He was built like a wrecking ball, and when he stopped beside Peak with his arms crossed over his kutte, he knew that Warden was there on official club business.
“Prez wants you at church tonight,” he growled.
And there it was—the business that Peak had been hiding away from.
He couldn’t fault Warden for showing up and tossing down the demand from Captain, their Prez.
As the club’s Enforcer, it was Warden’s job to keep the guys in line, and Peak had become one of his damn priorities.
Refusing to do as asked and become the club’s hacker had landed him in hot water with Captain.
Hell, he was in over his head with most of the guys, but Captain was stubborn—sending Warden to fetch Peak was proof of that.
He straightened, wiping his hands on a rag before finally meeting Warden’s gaze. “That sounds like a you problem, man, because I have no plans to show up to church tonight. Hell, I’m staying as far away from the club as I can until Captain finds another stooge to be his hacker.”
Warden grinned, “It’s a good thing that problems are my specialty,” he boasted.
Peak exhaled through his nose and glanced back at the bike he had been working on. He’d rebuilt half the damn thing already and was close to being done, but it would have to wait. Church meant that decisions were going to be made, and he knew that if he didn’t show up, there would be consequences.
“Captain is willing to put your conversation about becoming the club’s hacker on hold for now. He needs you there for another matter,” Warden said.
“What other matter?” Peak asked. He worried that Warden was just telling him what he wanted to hear in order to get him into church tonight. He hated being ambushed, so asking a bunch of questions was his only way to be sure.
“It’s about new blood and territory issues. And—” Warden’s grin faded as he paused, “it’s about a woman.”
Peak stilled. “What kind of woman? Who does she belong to?” He had a feeling that if they were holding a meeting about a woman, she’d have to be one of the guy’s Ol’ladies.
“She’s the kind that doesn’t belong anywhere near the Grave Prowlers,” Warden warned.
Those were the worst kind of women because they usually got caught in the crossfire. “Then why the hell is Captain holding a meeting about her?
Warden shrugged. “She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. We just need to figure out how to handle her, and Captain might need you to do a little bit of digging into her past.” So, Warden was just talking out of his ass when he said that Captain was willing to let the hacker thing go for a bit.
Peak muttered a curse and tossed the rag onto his workbench.
He grabbed his kutte from the hook by the office door, the worn leather heavy in his hands.
He’d sworn he wouldn’t get pulled into anything unnecessary again.
Sworn he’d keep his distance from the club for a while, but here he was, being sucked back into Grave Prowler’s business.
“Don’t forget your laptop,” Warden ordered. He was standing over Peak’s desk that sat in the corner of the garage as though guarding the damn thing with his life.
Peak sighed and crossed the room, grabbing his laptop and charger from his desk.
He shoved them into his saddle bag and grumbled under his breath about being sucked back into club business.
Warden didn’t look at all amused, but he was already getting on his bike, so he’d probably let that comment slide.
As Peak swung his leg over his bike and fired the engine to life, a strange tension settled in his chest—an instinct he’d learned to trust. Something was coming, and whatever it was, it was about to change everything.
The clubhouse sat back from the road, half-hidden by trees that lined the highway.
Grave Prowlers’ territory always felt heavier at night—like the walls of the clubhouse soaked up secrets and refused to let them go.
By the time Peak cut his engine and swung off his bike, the tension in his chest had tightened into something sharp and restless.
Church had already been called, and being late was going to get him in trouble with Captain.
That was the last thing he needed because he planned on telling his Prez that he still wasn’t going to be the club’s hacker, and that wasn’t going to go over well.
Inside the clubhouse, smoke curled toward the ceiling, mixing with the low murmur of voices and the scrape of chairs.
The long table at the front of the room was occupied—Captain at the head, Ruin, the VP, to his right.
Warden was leaning against the wall like a loaded weapon waiting to be fired at the first sign of trouble.
Every set of eyes tracked Peak as he walked in, as though telling him that he was late without having to say a word.
The look of disappointment on Captain’s face said it all—he wasn’t pleased. Peak ignored them all. Let them stare.
Peak took a seat near the back of the room, resting his boots on the rung of the chair in front of him. He kept his expression neutral, but his instincts were screaming at him that trouble was brewing. Whatever this was about, it wasn’t small.
Captain rapped his knuckles against the table. “Let’s get started,” he ordered. The room quieted instantly.
“Territories have been getting tested,” Captain continued. “Nothing overt yet, but we’ve had unfamiliar bikes sniffing around the southern edge of our grounds with Delaware plates on them.” A low growl rolled through the room.
Peak was barely listening. Territory disputes were nothing new to the Grave Prowlers.
Clubs postured, and lines got crossed. Blood was spilled.
It was the cycle—a vicious one. The guys went back and forth and decided to send Warden and a few of the guys to check out the other club.
They needed to know what or who they were dealing with before things got out of hand.
Captain leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. “Now for the real issue, why we’re all here.” Here it comes. Peak felt as though he was holding his breath waiting for his Prez to give them all bad news.
“There was a woman picked up two nights ago,” Captain said, “down near the docks.” Peak sat forward in his seat. “She wasn’t trespassing or stealing anything. She was just watching,” Captain went on. “Which raises questions.”
“Who grabbed her?” someone asked from the back corner of the room.
“Prospect patrol,” Warden answered. “She bolted when she saw the kuttes, as though she knew who the Grave Prowlers were and wanted out of there.” Smart woman.
Most of the guys in the club were pretty intimidating—even the prospects.
Whoever the woman was, she was smart enough to try to take off before being brought in by them.
“Name?” Captain asked.
Warden shifted. “Maeve Carter.” The name hit Peak harder than he expected.
Not because it meant anything to him, but because of the way Warden said it.
He was being careful, measured even, and Peak wondered why that was.
A part of him already knew this wasn’t going to be a simple task.
Captain was going to ask him to research Maeve, and he knew that telling him no wouldn’t go over well.
“We need to figure out what her story is and how to handle her,” Captain said, eyes flicking to Peak. “That’s where you come in.”
Peak leaned back, folding his arms. “You said you needed to figure out how to handle her. That doesn’t automatically make her my problem.”
Captain’s mouth twitched. “Funny. I remember you being the best problem-solver we’ve got.”
Peak clenched his jaw. “I’m not your hacker.”
“Tonight, you’re our researcher,” Captain countered. “Different title. Same skill set.” A few chuckles rippled through the room as the men around the table stared him down.
Peak shot Captain a look that promised payback later. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything,” Captain said. “Who she is. Why she was snooping around our territory down by the docks, and whether she’s a liability.”
“And if she is?” Peak asked.
Warden answered that one. “Then she becomes my problem, and I deal with her.” Peak didn’t like the sound of that. He never liked it when Warden had to deal with any woman.
“Where is she now?” Peak asked.
“Locked room in the back,” Warden said. “Under guard.”
Peak stood. “Then I want to talk to her.” The room erupted in chaos with men shouting at Captain that that wasn’t how things were done. He knew that, but if he was going to research this woman, he wanted to have a conversation with her first.
Captain raised a hand, silencing them. His gaze stayed locked on Peak. “You think that’s wise?”
“No,” Peak said honestly. “But I think it’s necessary. If you want me to research her, then I need to do this my way.” Silence stretched between them, thick and loaded.
Finally, Captain nodded. “You get ten minutes with her, and Warden stays close.”
Warden pushed off the wall. “Already planned on it,” he growled. From the look on his face, the club’s Enforcer thought that Peak’s idea was a bad one.
Peak stood to leave the clubhouse, Warden hot on his heels. “Ten minutes,” Captain shouted after them.
Peak grabbed his laptop from his saddlebag and headed toward the back hallway, Warden’s heavy footsteps following him. The door was guarded by two prospects who straightened when they saw Warden coming.
“Open it,” Warden ordered. The door creaked as it swung inward.
Maeve Carter sat on a metal chair, hands cuffed in front of her, dark hair falling loose around her shoulders.
She looked up when they entered, her eyes sharp and unafraid—too unafraid for someone in her position.
That alone told Peak this woman was trouble, and not the helpless kind—the dangerous kind.
Warden shut the door behind them, arms crossing over his chest as he took up position near the wall. Peak stepped forward, resting his laptop on the table but not opening it yet. He met her gaze head-on.
“I’m Peak,” he said. “And if you don’t want this night to end badly, you’re going to tell me why the hell you were watching our docks.” Direct and to the point never really worked for him, but he felt the need to at least try.
Maeve’s lips curved into a slow, defiant smile.
“Funny,” she said. “I was about to say the same thing to you, because keeping me here can only end badly for your club tonight. So, how about we ship the bullshit, and get down to the part where you release me, and I’ll make sure that nothing bad happens to the Grave Prowlers. ”