A tall, blond man stands up, radiating a commanding authority.
"Elias," the blond man says. "You brought a stray."
"Feds had her at the county line," Elias answers. His flat, report-style tone betrays no emotion. "Attempted arrest. I intervened."
"Intervened how?" a leaner biker with a cruel smile asks, resting a hand near the shotgun propped against his leg.
"Broke a wrist," Elias says simply. "They were blocking the road."
The dark-haired man—Logan, the President—sighs heavily. "Great. More heat. Just what we need with the Costa situation escalating." His sharp brown eyes lock onto me. "You're the auditor?"
"Mia Carlson," I say, forcing my spine completely straight. "And I didn't ask for the intervention. Or the arrest."
"The IRS claims she cooked books in Seattle," Elias adds.
Logan rubs his jaw. "If the Feds want her, having her here puts a target on our back. A bigger one than we already have."
"I can leave," I say quickly. "I didn't mean to bring trouble."
"You can't leave," Elias says.
The temperature in the room drops ten degrees.
Logan looks directly at Elias. "Brother?"
"She has the skills we need," Elias insists. "The books are a mess. We have a leak. Someone is funneling money out, and I can't find the source because I'm too close to it. I need fresh eyes. Her eyes."
"And the Feds?" Logan asks.
"We give her sanctuary," Elias counters. "Seventy-two hours. She audits the books. Finds the mole. In exchange, we provide legal protection and clean up the mess in Seattle."
"We're not lawyers, Elias," the man with the shotgun points out. "How do we clean up a federal fraud charge?"
"Daniel," Elias answers.
The name hangs heavy in the air.
Logan grimaces. "The Ghost is deep under. I haven't heard from him in weeks. We don't even know if he's functional."
"He'll answer for this," Elias says with absolute certainty.
"You want to bet the club's safety on a gamble?" Logan challenges.
"I bet it on the numbers." Turning to face me, the giant demands, "Can you find our leak in seventy-two hours?"
My gaze sweeps the group of dangerous men, weighing them against the federal agents waiting on the highway. An empty bank account and a ruined reputation leave me zero options.
"Give me coffee and access to the raw data," I say, keeping my voice utterly steady. "And I’ll find every penny."
Logan studies me, his brown eyes assessing my worth. "Alright. Seventy-two hours. But she stays in the Vault. No one in, no one out until it's done. If there's a mole, we can't risk her talking to anyone."
"Agreed," Elias says.
"I'll take first watch," the leaner biker offers, pushing off the table. "Make sure she doesn't run."
Elias steps in front of me.
He places his body between me and the rest of the room, cutting me off from the world entirely. His broad shoulders block out the overhead lights.
