"That you were probably dead in a ditch somewhere, and good riddance." Maria's laugh was shaky. "Your father didn't appreciate my commentary on his parenting skills."
"Maria, you need to be careful—" Her father didn’t like women who talked back. She had learned that the hard way—usually with a backhand to her jaw.
"You don’t have to worry about me, Trix. I'm leaving town tonight. My cousin in Portland says I can crash there for a while." There was rustling on the other end, like Maria was packing while they talked. "Trix, there's something else. Word is your father's putting out a bounty on you. He’s offering half a million for whoever brings you back alive." Half a million. Christ, that meant that every lowlife in three states would be looking for her now.
"There's more," Maria continued. "He's specified alive and unharmed. That's weird, right? Since when does Vinnie Lee care about collateral damage?" Since he needed what was in her head. The passwords to those servers and the location of the physical backup drives she'd hidden. Without those, the evidence would surface automatically in thirty days—she'd made sure of it. A dead man's switch he couldn't afford to trigger.
"Trix? You still there?" Maria asked.
"Yeah." She watched a bike pull into the lot below. Not Cyclops—she recognized his bike now, the custom paint job and chrome that caught the light just so. "Maria, after you get to Portland, lose my number—all of them."
"Trix—" Maria started.
"I mean it, Maria. You need to forget you know me. It's the only way you'll be safe,” Trixie insisted.
"That's not how friendship works, you stubborn bitch," Maria breathed.
Despite everything, Trixie smiled. "I love you too. Now go. Get out of there before my father’s men come back." She hung up before Maria could argue, then removed that SIM card from that phone too. She had one more phone left, but she'd save it for a real emergency.
Her father was offering half a million dollars for her safe return. The Road Reapers might be willing to protect her from random threats, but would they turn down that kind of money? Would Cyclops? A sound in the hallway made her freeze. Voices were low and urgent. She was sure that it was Venom and someone else—multiple someone elses.
She grabbed her backpack, shoving her feet into her boots, not bothering to lace them. The knife from her pocket was in her hand before she'd consciously decided to arm herself. If they were coming for her, she’d be ready. The training that her father had her endure kicked in, and for a split second, she was thankful for it.
The knock was soft but urgent. "It's me," Cyclops's voice came muffled through the door. It was tight with something that might have been concern, but she didn’t know him well enough to be sure of that. "Open up,” he demanded.
She kept the knife in her hand in case she needed it, but opened the door. He stood there in just jeans and a wife-beater shirt, his patch nowhere in sight. His hair was messed up like he'd been running his hands through it, and there was a tension in his shoulders that hadn't been there before.
"We've got a problem," he said, his eye tracking to the knife in her hand. "You gonna stick me with that, or can I come in?" She stepped back, letting him enter. He closed the door behind him, and suddenly the room felt much smaller. He took up a lot of space with all his contained violence and barely leashed energy.
"Your father put a bounty on you," he said without preamble. "Half a million. My phone's been ringing off the hook with people wanting to know if we've seen you."
So word was already spreading. "And what are you telling them?" she almost whispered.
"Nothing yet." He moved closer, and she caught his scent—leather and bike exhaust and something uniquely him. "But that's not going to work for long. Too many people saw you at the bar tonight, and they saw you with me."
"I'll go." The words hurt coming out, but she forced them anyway. "Now, before this gets worse. You don't need this kind of heat on your club."
"You're not going anywhere." His voice was flat and final. "You try to run now, and you won't make it three blocks. Every crew in the state is mobilizing to find you."
"That's not your problem,” she insisted. He moved fast, faster than a man his size should be able to. One second, he was by the door, and the next, he had her pressed against the wall, his hands on either side of her head. He wasn’t threatening her in any way. Hell, he wasn’t even touching her. But the way that he caged her in had her heart racing and made her hot in all the right places. The knife was still in her hand, pressed against his ribs, but he didn't seem to care.
"Listen to me," he said, his voice low and rough. "I made the call to put you under Road Reaper’s protection. That means something in this world, whether you understand it or not. We don't turn over women for money, we don't break our word, and we sure as fuck don't bow down to threats."
"It's half a million dollars," she whispered, hating how her voice shook.
"I don't give a fuck if it's half a billion." His eye searched hers, intense and unblinking. "You're not for sale."
Something broke inside her chest. She could feel the walls she'd built to keep everyone at a distance, starting to crumble. "You don't even know me," she breathed.
"I know enough, honey." His gaze dropped to her lips, and she felt heat coil in her belly despite everything else going on around them. "I know you're brave enough to run from a manthat most people would die before crossing. I know you're smart enough to have leverage that's keeping you alive. And I know you're tired of running."
"How could you possibly know that?" she asked.
He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. "Because you stopped here tonight. You could have kept going, found another car, and hit the highway. But you stopped running and let me bring you here." His voice dropped even lower. "You let me help you," he almost whispered. She should have stabbed him or kneed him in the balls and run. She should have done anything except what she did, which was let the knife fall from her fingers as she leaned into Cyclops’s big body.
"I don't know how to stop running," she admitted, the words barely a whisper.
"Then don't stop running." He pulled back enough to meet her eyes again. "Run with us instead of from us. The club's got a compound about three hours north. It’s more secure than this place. We can protect you there while we figure out our next move."
