Page 4 of Hardline Torque
He was still smiling at the memory—dark, humorless—when he swung the camera higher.
The balcony outside the command center slid into view.
Victor froze.
Tane “Mano” Ikaika leaned against the railing, both forearms braced on the metal, posture loose and utterly unguarded.A t-shirt clung to his broad shoulders, darkened with sweat, tactical pants riding low on his hips.He looked like he belonged exactly where he was—rooted, immovable, part of the land as much as the concrete and steel below him.
And he was staring straight at the lens.
Victor inhaled sharply and pulled back instinctively, heart thudding harder than the wound in his side ever had.Leaves brushed his cheek as he shifted, peering out through the branches.
The distance was absurd.Too far to make out any details and surely it was too far to see him or the scope.
“No way,” Victor muttered with a shake of his head.
He stayed still, counting breaths, waiting for the tension to break.
It didn’t.
When he leaned back into the scope, Tane was still there.
Still looking right at him.
Then—slowly, deliberately—Tane smiled.
Not wide.Not cocky.
But totally fucking hot.
And he nodded once.
Victor swore softly in Russian and yanked his face away from the optic.
“What the hell are you?”
The man couldn’t possibly see him.
Could he?
Victor shut the system down in one smooth sequence, packing the gear with practiced efficiency.He slid from the tree without a sound, boots touching earth like he’d never been there at all, then moved back through the forest for a click and a half.
The motorcycle waited where he’d left it, hidden beneath brush and shadow.He mounted up, helmet snapping into place, engine rumbling low and restrained.
He had leads to chase.Moves to counter.Debts to repay.
And yet—
As he pulled away from the site, one thought refused to let go.
Tane Ikaika.
The man unsettled him.
Not like fear.
Something worse.
Something that made Victor wonder why he’d come back at all.
