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"All it takes is someone getting close enough to slip a little tracker onto your bike."

The room goes horribly quiet.

I stare at Vex's back.

Someone got close enough to touch his motorcycle.

Someone he trusted.

Chapter 10

Vex

A tracker.

On my fucking bike.

Mel.

Yesterday at the clubhouse, he'd spent ten minutes admiring my Harley. Asked about the engine. Ran his hand along the frame while I gave him shit about his own beat-up ride.

Son of a bitch.

I keep my eyes on the bastard pointing a gun at my chest.

Kierra's behind me, gripping my shirt. Her breathing's too fast.

Can't look at her. Can't take my eyes off these assholes.

"What do you want?"

The man gestures toward Kierra.

"Her."

"Not happening."

"Then we have a problem."

"Sure fucking do."

His two buddies spread out. One moves toward the kitchen. The other stays near the broken door.

Four more outside, maybe. I caught glimpses of three before they came in.

Too many to take without putting Kierra in the line of fire.

"What's the witness's name?" the leader asks.

Kierra's grip tightens.

"Don't know what you're talking about," I say.

"Don't waste my time, Blake. We know the lawyer's got it."

"Then you know she's not giving you shit."

He turns his gun toward her.