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The roar of motorcycles cuts everyone off. The grin slides from Bennett’s face.

Never been more relieved to see Knox in my life.

“Fall back,” Bennett shouts to his men, like he’s in control. But his men had already started running.

Dirt flies up around all the bikes as Knox gets off his and leads the run of men toward me. Vandal and Havoc are right behind him, and I let the relief I feel at the sight of them replace the adrenaline pumping frantically through my veins as I drop to my knees in exhaustion.

There’s too many of us to start killing people, the trail too public. There’d be witnesses. But damage can be done. Broken arms. Beaten faces. Delivering something that will cause men to think twice about coming here. To abandon any loyalty to Bennett, who stayed out of the way until he thought trouble was over.

Ridge drops to the ground next to me before offering me his raised palm. I slap it half-heartedly.

“Good job, brother,” he says.

But then, I notice Bennett trying to head back to their vehicles. “Got one last fight in you?” I ask when he sees where I’m looking.

He grins, holding his ribs as I hold mine. “Let’s do it.”

29

DELLA

Wren’s face freezes on my screen for half a second, mouth caught mid-word, and I get a chance to admire just how striking they are with their androgynous presentation and high cheekbones, while simultaneously cursing the Wi-Fi in my lab.

“Velaro’s CEO is Dale Ray Pritchard,” Wren says when the connections catch up. “Small-town guy started with two employees, a backhoe, and a contracting license. Now, he’s worth north of four hundred million.”

I wince at the kind of money he has. “That sounds annoyingly inspirational.”

Wren chuckles. “Don’t worry. It gets less inspirational, but Velaro is clean on paper. He does environmental offsets. Wetlands restoration. Conservation easement. Even bought some massive forest in North Dakota that he rolls out as an example of how good he is. He’s not a cartoon villain.”

“But?”

“Pritchard likes specific sites, and Bennett’s job appears to be making any obstacles to their procurement disappear.”

My stomach tightens as Wren shares their screen. There are payments, shell companies, consultants.

“Bribes?” I whisper, and I’m glad Sunny thought it was worth putting Wren and I in direct contact. Ridge had made some funny comment about being worried what two brains the size of ours could come up with. But I like to think the club trusts me.

“He’s not that stupid. There are campaign donations for access. PAC donations. Jobs for relatives of influential people. Meanwhile, people get frightened. Complaints about break-ins, threats. The kind of thing no one can actually prove he’s connected to.”

“Urgh,” I mutter. Words don’t even begin to describe the cold settling in my bones.

A picture of Bennett wearing a military uniform appears on the screen.

“Special forces,” Wren says without missing a beat. “Dishonorably discharged. Sealed file. I’ve not been able to unseal it, yet. But it does mean he’s going to have skills that your bikers are going to underestimate.”

I think about Sunny. “I’ll let them know.”

Wren smiles. “I already did. Spoke to Knox this morning. He laughed when I told them. That’s why I’m telling you. Seems like you might have some influence over Sunny. And I know these bikers.” Wren smiles up at someone out of the shot, and their whole face softens. “They never know when they’re beat.”

A biker appears on the screen and kisses the top of Wren’s head before landing a plate of toast on the counter. “That’s because bikers never are beaten,” he says, and then winks at me.

He walks off in nothing but a pair of jeans and a whole lot of muscle.

Wren stares after him, for a second, then turns back to me. “Sorry.”

Warmth whispers through me. “Don’t apologize. They can be distracting, can’t they?”

“Ain’t that the truth. Anyway, gotta go, but will keep digging. Hope we get to meet in person, because I like what you’re trying to do. Hit me up if I can help you in the future.”