The line rings once.
“Commander,” Logan answers. The President of the Broken Halos MC waits on standby in a surveillance van three miles away. He holds the fate of the club in his hands. “Give me the update. You have a few more hours left on the contract. Tell me you have a location on the ledger.”
“The infiltration just went loud.” I keep my voice to a harsh, barely audible whisper. “We are blowing the cover.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Logan barks through the tiny speaker. “We need those files, Nick. Why are you burning a six-month undercover operation?”
“We are extracting a package.” I dodge the direct question. “I need a clean route out of the city limits. I need a secure safehouse prepped.”
“I am not dispatching blind backup.” Logan pushes back hard. He protects the club first. “What is the package?”
I grind my back teeth together. The truth spills out into the dark alcove.
“The intel was solid. Dominic made the public announcement. Ferraro is here.”
“We knew that, Nick,” Logan snaps. The MC verified the arranged marriage rumors weeks ago. It was the exact reason Dominic wanted elite outside security. “We knew he was selling her. Get the ledger and get out.”
“We are taking the sister.”
Dead silence on the secure line for three agonizing seconds.
“You are pulling a stunt that will bury this club.” Logan hears the danger. His voice goes flat and presidential. “You are stealing Dominic Costa’s leverage right out from under Calix Ferraro’s nose. We are screwed if they trace this back to us.”
“I do not give a damn.” The words vibrate with territorial rage. “Prep the perimeter, Logan.”
A low, deep laugh rumbles through the phone speaker. Out of place in the middle of a tactical crisis.
“The Thunderbolt.” Logan laughs harder. The pure amusement cuts through his authority. “You arrogant, stubborn bastard. You finally caught it.”
“Shut up.”
“You mocked all of us when we had ours.” Logan refuses to drop it. “You called it biological nonsense. You swore a woman would never compromise a mission. Now you are burning down the entire city for a Costa.”
“I will shoot you in both kneecaps when I get back to the clubhouse. Just give me a location.”
Logan drops the humor. He switches back to MC business.
“The North Cabin.” He designates the safehouse. “It is off the books. Deep in the mountain woods. Costa will never connect his missing private bodyguards to an isolated MC hunting cabin. I will send a supply truck up there tomorrow morning. Keep her hidden.”
“Copy.”
I press end. The burner phone slides back into my pocket.
I step out of the dark alcove. The tactical situation escalates.
Calix Ferraro separates from a small group of corrupt politicians. He adjusts the diamond-studded cuffs of his tailored suit. He starts walking with arrogant, unhurried steps toward the east hallway.
He is hunting for his new property. He wants to drag his bride back into the spotlight.
I move fast. My combat boots eat up the distance across the marble floor. I intercept Calix at the arch.
I plant my armored body in the center of the hallway entrance. I block his path.
Calix stops short. He looks up at me.
I have four inches of height and eighty pounds of solid muscle on him. The Kevlar plating under my suit jacket makes me an immovable wall.
“Excuse me, sir.” I deploy the fake authority of the Security Commander. Cold. Flat. The blatant disrespect dares him to challenge me in public. “This hallway is temporarily restricted.”