Page 34 of Peak’s Code

"Is she in Maryland?"

"No." Mercer smiled. "You’re not asking the right questions, Maeve. You’re better than this."

Peak's phone vibrated, but he ignored it. It buzzed again, and Captain frowned. "Answer it." Peak glanced at the screen. The caller ID read:

SHOP SECURITY

It was from his motorcycle shop.

Peak answered immediately. "This is Peak." The alarm company's automated voice played.

Warning. Silent alarm activated. Dixon Customs.

Peak's blood ran cold. Nobody should've been at his shop. He had closed down for the day, but if the security system was right, and it usually was, someone was there.

The clubhouse lights flickered twice before every security monitor went black. The room fell into an eerie silence. "What the hell?" Ruin muttered. At that exact moment, Peak's laptop, which was sitting closed on the table in the corner of the room, powered on by itself. The screen glowed bright blue, but no one had touched it. Text appeared across the display—just one sentence.

YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT HER ALONE

Every man in church froze as more text appeared.

CHECK YOUR CAMERAS

The monitors flickered back to life. The front gate camera now showed a black cargo van parked just outside the entrance. It hadn't driven up. It was simply there, as if someone had cut to a prerecorded feed.

Peak's stomach dropped. "No." The image zoomed in automatically, and the back doors of the van swung open. Inside sat dozens of black barrels.

Captain's face hardened. "Everybody out!" Peak was already moving toward Maeve as another message flashed across his laptop.

90 SECONDS

Peak didn't hesitate. He grabbed Maeve's hand. "We're leaving."

She looked at him. "What about⁠—"

"No time,” Peak growled.

Captain pointed toward the back hallway. "Take the safe route!"

"Warden," Ruin shouted. The Enforcer was already dragging Mercer toward the reinforced basement. The club erupted into motion as brothers sprinted for defensive positions. Prospects evacuated civilians, and Ruin shouted orders. Peak pulled Maeve through the kitchen toward the rear exit.

"What is happening?" Maeve yelled.

Peak didn't slow down. "They hacked my cameras and my laptop. "They knew where Mercer was." He looked back toward the clubhouse. "They're not here for him."

The realization hit them both at the same instant. "They're here for us,” they said together. Behind them, a deafening explosion rocked the front of the clubhouse, blowing out every window and sending a fireball through the entrance. The blast wave slammed into Peak's back, throwing him and Maeve through the rear door and into the muddy darkness beyond the clubhouse.

Captain had been right; they had to disappear. It was the only way to keep his brothers safe. There was only one place Peak knew the enemy would never think to look first—a forgotten roadside motel on Maryland's Eastern Shore, where he'd hidden more than one brother over the years.

The motel looked exactly like every roadside motel on the Eastern Shore—old. A flickering neon VACANCY sign missing two letters. The parking lot was cracked asphalt surrounded by marsh grass. Motel Seven sat in the far corner and was as far from the highway as possible.

Peak killed the engine on his Harley and Maeve climbed off behind him. She removed the borrowed helmet and looked up at the building. "You've got to be kidding."

He smirked. "What?"

"This place looks like it rents rooms by the hour,” she grumbled.

"It does,” he said.