Page 45 of The Order of Disorder
“You know we were military,” he says quietly, casting a glance past my shoulder.
I nod.
“The four of us made up a highly specialized unit, but it got disbanded. Political shifts. Ryder bought the land and I opened the shop. Jake started working. But Ryder stayed connected. He had contacts looking to hire for private work, off-the-record stuff no one wants to touch, that sort of thing. So we started taking on contracts, you know, that require skilled work.”
He watches me carefully.
I knew they did some kind of work they wouldn’t tell me about, but it never fazed me. Now the way he’s looking at me, careful and assessing, I wonder if I was supposed to take it more seriously.
I’d been living in a motorcycle club for years by the time I met them, though. Off-the-books work has never seemed unusual to me.
He drops his voice even lower. “We got a big contract on a corruption case with ties to the government. The O.D. is running a massive money laundering scheme that’s funding an umbrella of illegal activities. My background is in intelligence, plus I have a bike. So Ryder sent me in undercover. Hence, Ryan.”
I know a bit about that side of the O.D.’s operations, even though I’m not supposed to. But Billy didn’t go to any lengths to hide anything from me—hell, he tried to give me to the senator as a gift. So none of this surprises me. Except maybe the idea of Wyatt as an undercover agent.
“Silas found a flash drive,” he continues. “Hidden inside a bike that went into town for service. Just pictures. The clubhouse, the hangar, the grounds. No faces. But not long after that, the surveillance started going in.” He lifts his eyes to me. “Billy doesn’t suspect me, which is the only reason I’m still breathing. But he knows someone’s feeding information out, and he’s watching everyone. I can’t risk using any of my old channels.”
He picks at a blade of grass and looks away.
“What I’m telling you right now, Max…it could get me killed.”
My throat tightens.
“I went on the job to El Salvador, and when I got back…you were just here. And I don’t fucking know what you’re doing here, but you don’t belong in this place.”
He turns to look at me fully now. “I need to understand what you’re doing here. And how to get you out.”
I look down at my hands, at the dirt under my nails and the faint bruise on the back of one hand.
“I’m here because they took me,” I say quietly. “Because I used to belong to them. To Billy. He’s the one I ran from. My ex.”
Wyatt’s whole body stiffens.
“Billy is your ex?” He stares, disbelieving. “Billy is the one you were running from? You’re O.D.?”
I sigh. I hate hearing it put that way. Like this is my identity. Like this club is part of who I am. But then I press my lips together and nod. Because like it or not, it is.
Wyatt leans back against the storehouse wall, scrubbing both hands over his face.
“Jesus Christ, Max,” he says, his voice hollow. He blows out a long breath. “How is that possible? Is this where you ran from?”
I nod again, barely breathing.
“Max…we’re six, maybe eight miles from Ryder’s place. On foot. Drugged. Jesus. I never would’ve suspected. You never said a word.”
I pick at the dirt under my nails, feeling the weight of everything I've tried to outrun.
“I didn’t know how to say it,” I murmur. “It seemed like a lot to explain. And I started thinking I could just leave it behind. Start a new life.”
“You should’ve told me. You should’ve trusted me.” Then, almost an afterthought: “How could they take you? We had the perimeter locked up. Were you at home?”
Ice cracks down the center of my chest, opening a fissure wide enough to swallow me whole.
He doesn’t know.
The realization hits like a wrecking ball, shattering the fragile, frozen thing I’ve been hiding inside. Something sharp and terrible starts to rise in me. A dark tide, rushing fast, ripping loose everything I’ve buried.
“I don’t know,” I say breathlessly, my lungs tight. “I stepped outside and Silas—”
