Page 3 of My Reckless Biker

The prospects move to escort her out and she goes without argument, spine straight, not looking back at any of us.

The door closes behind her and I can hear Holt exhale slowly, Knox's weight shift against the wall. The tension in the room doesn't break, just redistributes.

"It's a trap," I say again, and this time there's murmurs of agreement.

Cain's still on his laptop, fingers moving. "Maybe. But if the intel's real, it's valuable. We've been looking for a way into Marrow's financials for months. This could give us leverage we don't have."

"If it's real," I say. "That's a big fucking if. She walks in here with perfect timing and perfect information, and we're supposed to believe Victor Crane doesn't know about it?"

Tate crosses his arms, jaw tight. "Crane's not stupid. This is exactly the kind of long game he'd play. Plant his daughter, make it look like she's running, let her feed us information that's just real enough to be convincing until she's in deep enough to do real damage."

Holt speaks from near the window, voice low. "So what do we do? Turn her away?"

"We test her," Clint says, and he's looking at me when he says it. "We take the deal, but we watch her close. Give her enough rope to prove herself or hang herself, and we see which one she chooses."

"How do we test her?" Cain asks without looking up from his screen.

Clint's still looking at me. "Public relationship. Put her with one of us, make it visible, let it get back to Crane. If she's working for him, he'll react wrong. Too controlled, too strategic, like he knew it was coming. If she's genuine, he'll lose his shit seeing his daughter with a Vigil brother. Either way, we get information we don't have now."

The room goes quiet and I know what's coming before Clint says it, can feel it in the way his eyes haven't left my face.

"Diesel," he says. "You handle it."

"No."

"Not a request."

I step forward, keep my voice level even though I want to argue loud enough to make him reconsider. "You want to use her as bait, fine. But don't put that on me. This is a bad idea and you know it."

"You think she's lying," Clint says, and his tone is reasonable, which means he's already made up his mind. "That's good. Keeps you sharp. Means you won't get compromised because you'll be looking for the lie the whole time."

"Means I'm the wrong person for this."

"You're exactly the right person." Clint's voice shifts into the tone that means the discussion is over, the decision is made. "You take her to The Anchor tonight. Be seen together. Let word spread fast. Watch how she reacts and watch what Crane does when he hears about it. You don't trust her, so you'll catch it when she slips. That's what I need."

I want to argue, want to say this is strategically unsound, that getting close to her even as performance is a complication we don't need, that there are ten other brothers in this room who could handle this without the weight of actually believing she's the enemy.

But Clint's right about one thing. I don't trust her, won't trust her, and that makes me the logical choice even if it's a shit choice.

"Fine," I say.

We go back inside and she's standing near the table where we left her, hands still at her sides, fingers still pressed too tight. When we enter, her eyes go to Clint first, then to me, then back to Clint. She's assessing, trying to read what just happened in that yard, what decision was made that's going to affect her.

Smart.

Clint lays it out in the same even tone he uses for club business. "We'll provide protection and resources. You provide intel, full access to your documentation, and you answer every question we ask without hesitation. In addition, you'll be publicly visible with Diesel here, appearing as his woman. Serves dual purpose of provoking your father and integrating you into our orbit where we can monitor you."

Her eyes shift to me and she really looks at me for the first time, dark eyes intelligent and wary and calculating just like I am.

She's figuring out if this is a trap for her, if Vigil can be trusted, if the man she's being assigned to is going to hurt her or use her or both.

The look lasts three seconds, maybe four, and I hold her gaze without giving her anything.

Then she turns back to Clint.

"I agree," she says.

I keep my eyes on her when she looks at me again. "First appearance is tonight. The Anchor, eight o'clock. Wear something that looks like you want to be there."