Page 99 of Peak’s Code

"Now, how about you get the hell off my road before this conversation ends with your brothers loading you into saddlebags." The air became painfully still, and neither side moved.

Finally, the spokesman nodded. "This isn't over."

Captain shrugged. "Didn’t expect it to be." The three riders climbed back onto their motorcycles. The engines roared to life before they turned around and disappeared into the darkness. Captain didn't move until their taillights vanished, and only then did he look toward Warden.

"Get two brothers on the gate,” he ordered.

Warden nodded. "Already on it."

Captain turned to Ruin. "Call Delaware. I need to talk to Boggs."

"You think their club is connected to all this?" Ruin asked.

"I think if a brand-new club just showed up asking for the woman sitting in my storage room, then whatever she knows is a hell of a lot bigger than she’ll ever admit. I’m betting that we’ll need the Delaware chapter involved in this mess."

He started toward his bike, and Ruin stopped him. “Where are you going, Cap?” he asked.

“Peak’s time is up. I’m going to talk to Jezebel and find out why our unwanted guest asked for me by name.” He mounted his bike and started it up, letting the roar of the engine soothe him the way that it always did. He was going to get some answers, one way or another.

Jezebel

Running in four-inch heels had been a mistake. Jezebel kicked the second one off somewhere between the abandoned gas station and the tree line, never bothering to look back. The first shoe’s heel snapped when she'd vaulted over a guardrail. The second shoe was only slowing her down.

Her bare feet slapped against the damp earth as branches clawed at her arms and legs. Behind her, dogs barked. They weren’t hunting dogs, but security dogs. They'd caught her scent almost immediately.

"Spread out!" a man shouted somewhere in the darkness. "She couldn't have gotten far!" Jezebel bit back a groan as another sharp rock sliced into the bottom of her foot. Pain radiated up her leg, but she forced herself to keep moving because stopping wasn't an option—not tonight. Hell, probably never again. All she could think about was staying alive now—not just for herself but for the baby now growing inside of her. She knew that if her husband found out she was pregnant, he’d hunt her down just to take the baby from her. She was disposable, but an heir to his empire wouldn’t be, and that’s why she’d never let him find out about the baby.

She stumbled into a small clearing and dropped behind the rotting trunk of a fallen oak, pressing a trembling hand against her side. She was bleeding, and judging by the amount of blood on her dress, she was losing too much. The knife hadn't gone in deep enough to kill her, but it had done enough damage to leave a steady trail of her blood behind her.

She peeled her hand away and stared at the crimson coating her fingers. "Damn it." She'd made it this far, so there was no way that she was dying in the woods.

Voices drifted closer. "They're paying a fortune to bring her back alive."

"And if she fights?" someone else asked.

A cruel laugh answered. "Then we make sure she regrets it." Jezebel squeezed her eyes shut. She'd heard those words before. The first time had been from the man she'd married. Her husband had been charming when they met. He was wealthy, powerful, and protective. By the time she realized he wasn't protecting her but imprisoning her, it was too late. Behind every smile was a command. Every gift had become another chain, and every apology had been followed by another bruise. She touched the fading fingerprints around her throat that he’d given her three days ago. The stab wound had happened tonight because she'd found something she wasn't supposed to—something her husband would kill to keep buried.

A twig snapped, and she knew that someone was close. Jezebel held her breath as flashlights swept across the clearing. One beam skimmed over the fallen tree, lingering only a second before moving on. "Nothing over here!" a man called.

The voices drifted away, and she waited another full minute before daring to move. Slowly, painfully, she crawled from behind the log and dug into the inside pocket of her leather jacket. Her fingers closed around a flash drive that was no bigger than her thumb. It was still there. Everything she'd risked her life for was sitting in the palm of her hand. It was enough evidence to destroy an empire—or get her killed.

She slipped it back into the hidden pocket and pushed herself upright. There was only one place left to go, and she knew that going there was going to be a big mistake. Motorcycle clubs weren't exactly known for taking in strangers. Most protected their own and no one else, but six months ago she'd overheard a conversation during one of her husband's business dinners.

One of the men had laughed. "Stay out of Maryland," he said. "Captain doesn't tolerate anyone bringing trouble onto Grave Prowler’s territory."

At the time, she'd thought nothing of it, but now, it was the only thread of hope she had left. If half the rumors about Captain were true, he was ruthless. If the other half were true, he protected people under his patch with his life. She just had to convince him she was worth protecting before her husband convinced someone else to put a bullet in her head.

Rain began to fall, soft at first, then steadily harder. Jezebel looked toward the distant glow of highway lights through the trees. Maryland wasn't far away, and neither was the Grave Prowler’s clubhouse. She just had to stay alive long enough to reach their territory, and she’d be safe.

A twig snapped behind her, and this time, she knew that she had been spotted. "Found her!" someone shouted. Jezebel didn't think this time; she just ran.

The first gunshot cracked through the trees, and bark exploded from the trunk inches from Jezebel's head. She didn't scream. She'd learned a long time ago that screaming only encouraged men like them. Instead, she ran.

Branches whipped across her face, leaving thin cuts along her cheeks as she tore through the woods. Rain turned the forest floor into slick mud, and more than once she nearly lost her footing.

Another shot rang out, and this one missed by yards. They weren't trying to kill her—not yet, at least. Victor had been very clear about keeping her alive. "Bring her back breathing. I'll deal with the rest." The memory made bile rise in her throat.

For three years, she'd been the perfect wife. She'd smiled at charity galas, entertained business associates, and pretended not to notice when Victor disappeared for days at a time. When she found out that she was pregnant, she tried to stay off his radar. She'd ignored the bruises, the lies, and the women that he didn’t try to hide from her.