Page 40 of The Fixer

Marcus flinched but didn’t look away. “I didn’t know, Lyndsey. Not at first. I swear. Lang approached me years ago—said he wanted to invest in the research. I thought it was legitimate.”

Jake cut in, his voice cold. “And when did you figure out it wasn’t?”

Marcus hesitated. “Too late. By the time I realized what Lang was planning, I was already in too deep. But I never betrayed you, Lyndsey. I swear.”

Lyndsey’s eyes narrowed. “Then why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you warn me?”

“I was trying to protect you,” Marcus said, his voice cracking. “I thought if I stayed close, I could keep you safe. But Lang... he’s not just a man. He’s a machine. He’s got people everywhere, resources I can’t even begin to match.”

Jake stepped forward, his presence imposing. “If you’re telling the truth, you’ll help us. We need everything you have on Lang—contacts, locations, operations.”

Marcus met Jake’s gaze, his shoulders sagging slightly. “I’ll help. But if you’re going to take him down, you’ll need more than just my intel. You’ll need proof. And that means going after his financial network.”

Lyndsey’s breath hitched. “You mean the auction. The bidders.”

Marcus nodded. “If you can link Lang to those transactions, you’ll have him. But it won’t be easy. He’s covered his tracks well.”

Jake exchanged a glance with Lyndsey, her eyes blazing despite the tremor in her hands. “We’ll find a way,” Jake said firmly. “But if you’re playing us, Marcus, I’ll know, and I’ll end you.”

“I’m not,” Marcus said quietly. “For Lyndsey’s sake, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

As they made their way back from the cottage to Club Southside, Jake couldn’t shake the feeling that things were only going to get more dangerous. But one thing was clear: they had a new weapon in their fight against Lang. And with Lyndsey by his side, Jake was ready to use it.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

REYNA

Reyna stood in the shadows of the dimly lit laboratory, her eyes scanning the empty space with practiced efficiency. The faint hum of equipment filled the silence, but her instincts told her this wasn’t just another sterile workspace. This was a battleground—one where secrets could mean the difference between life and death.

She moved silently, her boots making no sound on the tiled floor as she approached a desk cluttered with papers and data drives. Lyndsey’s research team had scattered when the danger started, but Reyna knew someone had stayed behind to clean—or cover—up.

Pulling on a pair of gloves, she rifled through the files. Most of it was innocuous—notes on nanobot applications, clinical trials, projections. But tucked beneath a thick folder labeledPrototype Analysiswas a small USB drive. Her lips curved into a smile.

“Bingo.”

She pocketed the drive, her instincts already tingling. Whoever had left this behind was either careless or overconfident, and Reyna had learned long ago that arroganceoften hid something worth digging into. As she turned to leave, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. Her body tensed.

A shadow appeared in the doorway. Dr. Aaron Klein, one of Lyndsey’s senior colleagues, stepped into view. Lyndsey had gone through those involved in the project with both Reyna and Jake, showing them professional and casual pictures so they could identify them. His normally polished appearance was slightly disheveled, his eyes darting around the room before landing on Reyna.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice sharp but edged with nervousness.

Reyna crossed her arms, her posture casual but ready. “Reyna Marx with Cerberus. And it’s funny, but I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Klein hesitated, his gaze flicking toward the desk she’d been searching. “I... I came back to retrieve some personal files. You have no right to be here.”

“Really? Ask yourself how I got in here. I’ll tell you. Lyndsey gave me her security card and access code. What personal files?” Reyna arched a brow, her tone dripping with disbelief. “Like this?” She held up the USB drive, watching as his face paled.

“That’s classified,” he stammered, stepping closer.

“Classified? By who? You aren’t a government agency, and this isn’t a government project. So, it might be confidential, but it isn’t classified.”

“You have no idea what you’re messing with.”

“Oh, I think I do,” Reyna said, her voice turning icy. “This isn’t just about research, is it? Someone’s been feeding information to Victor Lang, who, in case you didn’t know, has ties to some pretty nefarious individuals. And whoever is giving Lang the information is someone close to Lyndsey.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Klein snapped, but the flicker of panic in his eyes betrayed him. “You have no proof.”

“Not yet,” Reyna admitted, slipping the drive into her jacket pocket. “But I will. Unless you want to save me the trouble and tell me what you know.”

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