"Iextracted you."
"Tomay-to, tomah-to, mountain man."
Myjaw locks.Shedelivers the title like an insult, treating me like some primitive brute dragging a club.Maybeshe has a point.Thesecond my hands touched her back in that cabin, civilization checked out.Logicshort-circuited.Theroaring static ofMineconsumed everything else.
"Youwere sitting in a glass house throwing rocks at theCostas,"Igrumble, the sound vibrating against the steering wheel. "Yourencryption is sloppy.They'verun a trace on your localizedIPforthree days.IfIhadn't shown up, you'd be bleeding out in a trunk right now."
Silencestretches from the passenger seat.Asmall, begrudging shifting of fabric follows.
"Twodays," she mutters.
Iglance over. "What?"
"Theytracked me for two days.Irouted through a bouncing signal inKiev, but the latency tipped them off."Shestares at the wall of white snow outside her window. "Ineeded six more hours.Ialmost had their ledger."
"Youalmost caught a bullet."
Idownshift.Themassive iron gates of the compound looms out of the snow like the jaws of a beast.Ihit the remote clipped to my visor.Hydraulicswhine as the heavy metal swings inward.
TheBrokenHalosMCoperates as a fortress.Thesprawling main lodge consists of timber and stone, fortified with steel shutters and reinforced doors.Outbuildingsdot the perimeter, housing the armory and the bunkhouse forProspects.
"Welcometo hell," she whispers.
"Home,"Icorrect.
Ipull the truck around the back, parking next to the heavy steel door leading directly to my private quarters.Therest of the club uses the main entrance, living in the communal noise of the brotherhood.
Iavoid the chaos.
AstheTracker,Ilive in the silence between the keystrokes.
"Out."Ikill the engine.
Shestays put, staring at the thick metal. "WhatifIrefuse?"
"ThenIcarry you.Ipromise to skip being gentle about it."
Darkeyes flash at me, sparking a defiance that makes my blood run hot.Shovingthe door open, she jumps down into the knee-deep snow.Acurse slips from her lips as she stumbles, butIcatch her before gravity wins.
Grippingher arm,Ihaul her upright.Thecontact sends a jolt straight up my limb, bypassing my brain and hitting me right in the groin.Underthe layers of winter gear, her frame feels bird-boned and breakable.
Yetthis woman has held off a cartel cyber-attack for eight months with nothing but a laptop and caffeine.
"Move,"Igrowl, guiding her toward the entrance.
Inside, the air hangs stale and cold until we hit the second landing.Myloft occupies the entire top floor of the north wing.Soundproofingand climate control shields the space to keep the servers running at optimal efficiency.
Ikey the biometric lock, the heavy door hisses open.
Kailasteps inside and stops dead.
Theroom functions as a command center, bathed in the soft, blue hum of server racks.Monitorsline the far wall, curved and glowing over cables that snake across the floor in organized bundles.
"Whoa," she murmurs.Hertough exterior slips, revealing the raw tech-nerd underneath. "Isthat a liquid-cooled mainframe?Areyou mining crypto or running a small country?"
"Irun the mountains,"Istate, locking the door behind us.Theheavy thud of the bolt sliding home makes her shoulders jerk.
Shespins around, eyes narrowing. "Youlocked it."