Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
“Pull the bank records again,” I told Jax. “I don’t care how deep you have to dig. If someone’s paying him, there’s a trail.”
Jax nodded, already typing. “I’ll double the traps. Encrypt the vendor shell again, throw some bait into the payout stream. If someone’s still pulling his strings, they’ll tug.” Then he paused and looked up at me. “You think this ties to the offers you’ve been getting? The ones trying to ‘partner’ on Redline Speedway?”
“They’ve been getting bolder,” Edge mentioned casually. “The subtle threats aren’t so subtle anymore. Idiots think they can scare Kane into selling. Much to my amusement.”
I grunted, not a trace of humor in my tone.
Edge pushed his hands into his pockets, lips twitching into a crooked grin. “You know…for someone who’s got a billion-dollar racing empire, you’re awfully cranky when someone tries to break the rules.”
My eyes narrowed. “It’s not the rules getting broken that I mind so much.”
Edge lifted a brow. “No?”
“I mind when they think I won’t notice.”
Nitro smirked, dragging his fingers through his hair. “You wanna put out feelers? Shake the trees? Got snitches who owe me favors.”
I chewed on the options for a moment, then shook my head. “Not yet. Let’s not show our hand. Let ’em get comfortable. And stupid. Think we’re chasing shadows.”
Edge tilted his head. “And then?”
I met his eyes.
“Then we light ’em up and burn them to the fucking ground.”
3
SAVANNAH
The bells over the door jingled as I stepped into the only local coffee shop in Crossbend, Throttle and Pour. I let the scent of freshly ground beans calm my nerves.
The place wasn’t homey like Bean There Brewed That but had its own charm. There were chalkboard menus, mismatched mugs on display, and a plant wall near the front counter that looked lovingly maintained.
A woman in her forties stood behind the counter, wiping the top down with a practiced hand. She wore a band tee under a faded flannel and had a streak of silver in her otherwise dark hair. Glancing up as I approached, she offered a guarded smile. “Looking for something in particular?”
“Actually, yeah.” I pulled a copy of my résumé from my backpack. “I saw the Now Hiring sign in the window and wanted to apply. I have lots of barista experience.”
She set the rag down and took the paper, scanning it quickly. “Savannah Quincy?”
“That’s me.”
“You’re from Wedgewood but want to drive to Crossbend to work?” She glanced at my résumé again, and her brow furrowed. “Why’re you leaving Bean There Brewed That?”
I blinked, wanting to kick myself for not thinking up an answer to this obvious question at some point over the past three days. It had seemed safer to do my digging in person during the day instead of at night, so I’d had to wait until I wasn’t working. “You know how it is in a small town, no real chance to spread your wings when everyone’s known you since before you could walk. I figured this was about as far away as I could get without having to move out of my apartment because that’s such a pain.”
“Can’t argue with that logic.” She skimmed the details of my job experience and nodded. “You’re qualified, I’ll give you that.”
“I’ve spent plenty of time at the espresso machine, grinder, and frother.” I offered a confident smile. “I practiced my skills on my brother, Devon Quincy, for years.” I looked for a spark of recognition in her eyes, but when I didn’t see one, I continued. “And I’ve dealt with all sorts of clientele, so you don’t need to worry about me getting flustered if Kane Beckett or any of the guys in his MC come in for coffee.”
“We get all kinds of customers.”
Her answer didn’t tell me anything at all, unfortunately. “So they come in here often?”
Something behind her eyes sharpened. “If you’re planning to ask questions about the Redline Kings, you’re wasting your time.”
The shift in her tone wasn’t hostile, but it was final.
I blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“I’m not sure how much y’all know about the club over in Wedgewood, but here in Crossbend, we don’t gossip about the Redline Kings. Especially not with outsiders.”
“Oh, I, um…didn’t mean anything by it.” I tried to look as innocent as possible when I added, “I just figured you might be worried how I’d react if bikers came into your shop.”
She pursed her lips. “If you want to work here, you’ll learn fast to treat the Redline Kings like VIPs.”
“I can do that.”
“Good.”
I forced a smile, thanked her for her time, and promised to follow up about the job later in the week. Then I stepped back into the hot Florida sun and swallowed hard. Apparently, just mentioning Kane Beckett’s club was enough to make people nervous.
Next, I went into the bakery just a block from the coffee shop. With a whitewashed brick front, hanging flower baskets lining the awning, and a hand-painted sign over the door that read Sugar & Spice, it looked like something out of a romcom. The sweet smell alone was enough to make me forget how awkward my last conversation had been.