Page 9 of Axle
“Yeah,” Jax said, tapping keys. “They do secure cloud infrastructure for DHS, FBI, and even military intelligence branches. This isn’t a tax return she stumbled across. Whatever’s on this thing? It’s not meant to see daylight.”
I clenched my jaw. “And she was carrying it around like it was nothing.”
Jax leaned back and whistled low. “What the hell is she doing with shit like that?”
I didn’t have an answer. Just the growing certainty that she hadn’t stolen it. Someone gave it to her. Or she intercepted it. Either way, she was now the target of whoever wanted it buried.
“She knew,” Nitro said. “She’s not stupid. It had to be a handoff, and she obviously didn’t count on it going to shit.”
“Maybe she didn’t know what she was delivering, and she’s being used as bait,” Jax suggested.
“Could be both or a combination of them,” Edge offered mildly, his knife flipping open and shut in his fingers without him looking at it. “Pretty girl with a hot potato and someone dangerous on her heels. That’s a recipe for a man to stop thinking straight.”
Edge had the looks of a damn movie star, but his eyes hinted that he was a bit psycho. “Since when did you start giving lectures about thinking straight?”
“Since this afternoon after you snarled at a track marshal for breathing near her,” he shot back, but his smile didn’t have any bite. “Relax. I trust your instincts. Kane will too. If you think she’s clean?—”
I cut him off, my voice certain. “My gut says she’s scared, stubborn, and innocent enough to make me crazy. She’s carrying something somebody wants very badly.”
Jax’s chair squeaked as he pushed back and swiveled. “This Helix stamp isn’t a joke, Axle. It means we’re already in the blast radius. Whoever lost this drive is going to move heaven and earth to get it back, and they won’t give a shit who they have to trample. If I’m right, there’s federal awareness here, even if it’s not formal yet. Might be a rogue operator. Or a contractor. Could be someone with a badge and an ego. But they’ll have toys.”
Edge gave me a long, thoughtful look. “If someone’s chasing her, and she crashed on our track…there’s eyes on this shit show now.”
“Too late to sweep it,” Nitro muttered.
Jax nodded. “Someone was already watching. The chatter on local comms jumped during the crash. Spike in scanner traffic. We have maybe twelve hours before some asshat from the feds comes sniffing.”
Edge scratched the corner of his jaw. “Kane’s not going to like guests at the compound when they come with heat.”
“I’m not taking her to a safe house,” I said before any of them could suggest it. “Don’t even start.”
“So you have considered a safe house,” Edge said, dry as the desert.
“I considered it for half a second and threw the thought in the trash,” I snapped. “She stays at the clubhouse. We built this place to hold under pressure. We have men twenty-four seven, cameras, steel, and the kind of lock work that makes a locksmith sweat. If someone wants her, they’ll have to come through us.”
Jax lifted his brows. “Through you.”
I didn’t bother to deny it.
“She stays here,” I repeated, voice like steel.
Edge nodded. “She can sta?—”
“In my room. With me,” I interrupted.
He blinked. “Wasn’t suggesting anything else.”
Nitro’s lips curved. “She in your bed already?”
I gave him a flat stare. “She will be. But not for that.”
Edge and Nitro traded a look like men who had just caught a scent of gasoline. Edge’s grin went slow and feral. “Didn’t say it was. Just saying…your voice got real possessive real fast.”
“Fuck off,” I muttered.
Nitro’s mouth twitched. “He didn’t say he disapproved.”
Before I could respond, Jax snapped, “Could we get back to business?” He tapped the Helix drive back into its case and sealed it with a fresh strip from a roll in his desk. “I’m going to build it a sandbox with training wheels. Give me a day. Maybe two. I’ll pull at metadata from the edges, see if anyone’s pinged it for location or sent heartbeat checks. If there’s a signal, I’ll isolate it. If there’s a map, I’ll draw it.”
