Her brow furrowed. “Elite military stuff?” She shrugged. “Like secret, dangerous stuff.”
“Menace, Arsenal, and I were Delta,” I said simply. Her breath hitched, good. She understood weight when she heard it. “Retired? Sure. On paper.” I nodded toward the garage bay outside, where Wrecker’s laugh boomed over engine noise. “Eli and JT? Army Rangers—same unit back in the day. Ryder? SEAL.”
She blinked hard once—processing. Tactical precision down to her eyelashes. Almost cute if she weren’t so terrifyingly smart. “So Iron Valor’s not just bikes.”
“Shop pays taxes,” I said flatly. “The rest… governments hire us when they can’t get caught holding the leash.” The words came easier now, like briefing a teammate before insertion. “Extract hostages off-grid… recover stolen intel… dismantle shit that’d start wars if it went public.”
Her fingers tightened around her cup, white-knuckle grip on reality unraveling in real time, but her voice stayed steady as hell. “And you trust each other because you grew up together? Your fathers were already Iron Valor?”
“Brothers before blood,” I said—too raw for someone who didn’t know what frostbite felt like at 20 thousand feet or how desert sand clung to fresh bullet wounds. But she flinched like she did, anyway. “We don’t talk about it outside our circle,” I added softly. “Not ’cause we’re ashamed… but because trust is armor. Get sloppy with secrets? People die.”
She didn’t ask if we’d lost anyone, smart girl. Just stared at my hands—scarred knuckles cradling lukewarm coffee. Then she said, “You fix more than bikes, huh?”
I grinned. Savage. Pride flaring hot enough to burn through the dread. “Yeah. We fix problems. Quietly.”
I leaned back in my chair, studying Julia’s face as she drummed her fingers on her files. Precise, methodical, always one step ahead.
“Used to be we’d hit a dozen ops a year,” I said, the words rough but deliberate. “Now? Maybe three or four.” Her fingers touched a document, eyes flicking up to mine. I held her gaze. “Don’t mistake quiet for safe, though. The MC world’s still got teeth.”
A beat of silence. She chewed her lip as if she were weighing risks versus regrets. I pushed on before doubt could settle. “But you’re here. That means you’re covered. Keep working like you have been—sharp, thorough.” My boot tapped the concrete for emphasis. “You notice shit others miss. That’s not luck; that’s instinct.”
She flushed, gaze dropping like praise was a grenade lobbed at her feet. Christ. How many people had let her think she was anything less than remarkable? My jaw tightened. “You should hear it more,” I muttered, louder than I meant to. “That you’re goddamn amazing at this.”
Her laugh came out brittle. “Clicking keys on a calculator and balancing columns isn’t exactly genius level or top tier work.”
“Bullshit.” The word snapped between us. I leaned forward, elbows on knees. “You could run a kingdom, Julia. You just haven’t been handed the damn crown yet.”
She cast her eyes down. Quiet, but I caught it. For a heartbeat, she looked… unguarded. Like part of her might actually believe me. Good. She deserved to.
I stood, chair scraping against concrete. “Next mission? You’re lead analyst.” No room for argument—not that she’d need it. “And when it goes smooth as hell?” I shot her a half grin over my shoulder. “Don’t act surprised. But for now, we’ve got the messthat you’re dealing with here. And from the look on your face, it just keeps getting worse.”
She shuffled a few stacks of invoices and shook her head. “I just can’t figure out how Axle? That was the person who kept all this together before me, right?”
I nodded.
“Well, I can’t see how these kinds of errors were made by accident. Or are what I’d consider errors at all. It’s almost like every single entry has a few dollars missing compared to the purchase orders. It will take me a good while to go through at least the past two years of orders and entries to see just how off everything is.”
“Well, it’s lucky you’re not going anywhere, huh?” I gave her a wink, and her face turned the prettiest color pink I ever saw. Fuck if I knew what I’m doing with this 25-year-old woman when I’m almost 20 years older than her. But I’ve never wanted anyone more.
“Itisa good thing.” Her rare, genuine smile made her even more beautiful.
“So, you can manage this?” I asked, keeping my voice level while I leaned in over the desk. “The kind of chaos that comes with it?”
Her dark eyes fixed on mine. I felt her considering how many ways it could go wrong to believe in me. There was no paper trail for this kind of decision.
“I think so,” she said, words so soft I almost didn’t catch them.
I nodded, pushing the open manila envelope across the desk. Her fingers brushed mine as she reached for it, a shock of heat that ran from her hand to mine and back again, sparking our first night together like a live wire. She didn’t flinch away this time.
“Good, ‘cause I found this envelope full of invoices hiding under a box of parts. I don’t want you worrying about rushing to get done. We’re not on a timeline. There’s more to life than the job. Right now, you don’t really know people, but you will, andyou’ll want to have some fun someday. Take time for yourself to relax.” I was playing it off like I didn’t know she’d always choose to push herself to the edge of collapse.
She was gathering up things to take them from my desk. “Just let me collect everything from in here. And I know. I’m just not used to being able to come and go as I please.” She quickly stopped herself like she hadn’t meant to say something so honest. “I mean, I’m not used to having time on my hands. I always had so much work to do.”
“Uh huh,” I said. Knowing that’s not at all what she meant. Sounded like somebody kept her under their thumb.
“Well, you’ve got some free time tonight. I’ve got church, so I can’t take you to dinner. It’s quittin’ time. Gather up what you think you should take home, and we can lock up the rest.”
I flicked off the neon “OPEN” sign with my elbow, watching its pink glow die against the cracked window glass. All the guys had already cleared out for the evening. Julia stood hunched by the register like a wilting sunflower, shop ledgers clutched to her chest like body armor. Her knuckles matched the white of the receipt paper stuck to her sleeve.
