Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 63608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
An hour later, I’m in the small room off our church room, it’s half-lit by computer monitors and humming servers. Nitro’s fingers fly over the keyboard, screens flashing between angles of grainy night footage from around town.
Gas station camera first.
“Here,” he says, zooming in.
The video shows my bike pulling into frame, the pickup parked by the pump, and the dark truck idling near the side of the building. The resolution isn’t great, but it’s enough. He enhances the plate area—blank. Enhances the windshield—too much reflection.
“Motherfucker knows what he’s doing,” Nitro mutters. “No front plate. Dark tint. Tilting the truck just enough when he parks to give us glare on the glass.”
He switches feeds. Now it’s the industrial area, one of the cameras Chux had installed after a deal went sideways a few years back. The truck rolls through the edge of the frame.
“Can you track where he went?” I ask.
Nitro chews his lip. “He takes the long way around. Couple blind spots. But I bet you a case of beer he’s testing coverage. Look,” He runs the footage at higher speed. The truck passes under at least three cameras, each time pausing just a second too long. “Yeah,” Nitro continues. “He’s mapping us. Seein’ what we have, where we don’t.”
Chux is standing behind us, arms crossed. “Feels like recon.”
“Not a local?” I ask but also state because it’s not a familiar vehicle at least to me.
Nitro shakes his head. “Haven’t seen that truck before. And I’ve seen every truck that ever rolled through this town on these cameras.” He shrugs, “I’ve been bored, man.”
“Could be connected to the splinter group,” Chux explains quietly.
My jaw tightens. “They know our routes. Our businesses. Seems pointed.”
Chux’s eyes flick toward me. “You talked to anyone today who felt off?”
I think of the truck at the hardware store. Of the guy’s silhouette. Of the way the engine revved when I rode away. Then I think of the two men at the gas station earlier, the driver half-hidden in shadow.
Now, the oversight tastes sour.
“Couple things,” I admit. “Truck at the hardware store. Some weird interest. Same build as this one. And that gas station sighting. Could be the same guy.”
Chux doesn’t say I should’ve followed earlier. Doesn’t say you let your head get clouded by your feelings for a woman.
He doesn’t have to.
I hear it anyway.
Nitro pulls up a map of the town, dropping pins on each sighting we’ve logged tonight. The pattern forms a rough circle.
“He’s orbiting,” Nitro says. “Not hitting the same spot twice. Not too close to the clubhouse yet. But he’s poking at the edges of our world.”
Chux huffs out a breath. “He’s gonna make a move.”
“On us?” I ask.
“Maybe,” Chux replies. “Or maybe he’s lookin’ for leverage first.”
Leverage.
The word sinks like a stone.
Families. Businesses. People we’ve publicly put under our protection.
People like Ally. Like her grandfather. Like Kelly.
My shoulders tense. “We should put eyes on the bakery,” I share. “Extra patrols around Ally’s place. Anyone tied to us gets shadowed for a bit.”
“We’ll do it,” Chux agrees. “But quiet. Last thing we need is these bastards knowing we’re on to them before we have a name and a face.”
He claps a hand on my shoulder. “You want that detail?”
It’s not even a question.
“Yes,” I answer.
He nods, unsurprised. “You don’t crowd her. You don’t scare her. She already got enough on her plate. And by her, I mean Kelly. I’ll have Ally anytime she’s not at the shop. You handle the shop and Kelly. But do it under the radar.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “I know.”
He studies me a moment longer. “Riot,” he challenges.
“I said I know.”
He lets it go. “Nitro, keep eyes on the cams. Ping us if you see that truck again. Riot, you hit the route by the bakery, then swing past Kelly’s.”
“On it,” I say.
I turn to leave, adrenaline burning away the last remnants of sleep and doubt.
This—this I know how to handle.
Threats.
Surveillance.
Protection.
My shit with Kelly is a mess, a knot I can’t untangle without pulling everything apart. But keeping her safe?
That’s simple. That’s not optional. That’s mine.
Four days of patrols and nothing. Not a single sighting of the truck. Except things still feel wrong. Something is looming. My third pass of the day by the bakery, I ease off the throttle as I pass, scanning shadows, listening for anything that shouldn’t be there.
Nothing. No movement. No strange vehicles parked nearby.
Still, my nerves hum.
I do a slow loop around the block, keeping to the edges. The town feels tense. Like the air itself is waiting to exhale.
Going by Kelly’s apartment I see a light on. I kill the engine half a block away, letting the bike coast the last few feet. Then I sit there in the quiet, watching, listening, every sense stretched thin.
I shouldn’t be here. Or at least, I shouldn’t be stopping like this.