Page 98 of Peak’s Code

"Like she's not scared at all," Warden said.

Captain almost smiled. "Everybody's scared of something."

"Not her,” Warden grumbled.

Captain rubbed his jaw. "She's just hiding it better than most."

Warden crossed the room and poured himself a cup of coffee. "I don't trust her."

"I wouldn't expect you to,” Captain said. Warden didn’t trust anyone. It was what made him a damn good Enforcer.

"I think we should cut her loose,” Warden admitted.

Captain raised an eyebrow. "That's surprisingly merciful coming from you."

"I'm not being merciful." Warden's expression hardened. "If she's lying, she'll lead whoever she's running from away from us."

"And if she's telling the truth?" Captain asked.

"Then somebody dangerous is already looking for her, and we’re already mixed up in her mess,” Warden said.

Captain looked at him. "Exactly."

Before either man could say another word, one of the prospects burst through the front door. "Prez!"

Captain turned. The kid was breathing hard and had trouble written all over his face. "What?"

"We got company." Every chair scraped across the floor. Captain walked outside without rushing because a president never hurried. The rest of the club followed.

The night air carried the scent of saltwater and rain as Captain stepped onto the porch. Three motorcycles sat at the end of the gravel drive. Their riders hadn't crossed onto club property—yet. Each wore black kuttes with a patch Captain had never seen before. A silver compass with crossed knives over it. The words Black Tide MC were stitched across the top rocker. Captain had been around long enough to know every club within a hundred miles, and he'd never heard of Black Tide.

"Visitors?" Ruin muttered.

"Or scouts,” Captain said as he watched the three bikers remove their helmets. None of them looked older than thirty-five. The one in the middle climbed off his bike first.

He spread his hands away from his body. "We're not here for trouble."

Captain remained on the porch. "Funny, but most people say hello first. But then again, most people don't stop outside my clubhouse after dark."

The biker's smile faded. "We're looking for a woman." He had a sick feeling that they were looking for the woman he had locked up in his warehouse.

Captain folded his arms across his chest. "Aren't we all?"

The man didn't appreciate the joke. "She has dark hair," Captain said nothing. "Green eyes, and her name is Jezebel.” He heard Warden quietly crack his knuckles as the spokesman continued. "She stole something that belongs to our boss."

Captain's eyes narrowed. "And what's that?"

The biker hesitated just long enough to tell Captain the answer wasn't something he wanted repeated. "That’s our business."

Captain chuckled, low and dangerous. "I've been doing this a long damn time." He stepped off the porch and onto the gravel, stopping just inside the edge of Grave Prowler’s territory. "You know what I think?" The biker didn't answer. "I think if a woman managed to steal from your boss, then you boys ought to find yourselves a new place to work.” Captain smiled without humor. Several Grave Prowlers laughed behind him, but the Black Tide riders didn't.

Their spokesman's jaw tightened. "If she's here, we want her back."

Captain's smile disappeared. "You don't get to tell me what I do on my property."

The rider took one slow step forward. "So that's a yes. She’s here."

"No, she’s not,” Captain said. Technically, she wasn’t there—she was at the warehouse about five miles down the road, but he wasn’t about to get into semantics with the asshole who was currently staring him down.