Page 90 of Vengeance

Warden shut the door behind them, arms crossing over his chest as he took up position near the wall. Peak stepped forward, resting his laptop on the table but not opening it yet. He met her gaze head-on.

“I’m Peak,” he said. “And if you don’t want this night to end badly, you’re going to tell me why the hell you were watching our docks.” Direct and to the point never really worked for him, but he felt the need to at least try.

Maeve’s lips curved into a slow, defiant smile. “Funny,” she said. “I was about to say the same thing to you, because keeping me here can only end badly for your club tonight. So, how about we ship the bullshit, and get down to the part where you releaseme, and I’ll make sure that nothing bad happens to the Grave Prowlers.”

Maeve

Maeve Carter had been in worse rooms than this one—but not many. The concrete walls were bare, stained by years of smoke and spilled beer; the single lightbulb overhead was buzzing just enough to be annoying. The cuffs around her wrists were tight but not cruel, biting into skin just enough to hurt, but she refused to show weakness. She sat straight-backed on the metal chair, her chin lifted, and her eyes locked on the man standing in front of her like he was the one at a disadvantage.

He said that his name was Peak. She’d clocked him the second he walked in. Not because he was the biggest—he wasn’t. Not because he was the loudest—he definitely wasn’t. It was the way the room subtly bent around him, the way even the club’s Enforcer kept one eye on him like Peak was a variable that couldn’t be controlled, and that made him dangerous.

The guy called Warden stayed near the wall, silent and lethal, but Maeve focused on Peak. He had the look of a man who fixed things because fixed was easier to understand than broken, and a whole lot less complicated. She looked Peak over as he sat down in front of her. He had broad shoulders and eyes that didn’t seem to miss much. Those eyes were studying her now—measuring her and calculating the chances that she’d do ashe asked. She could save him some time and tell him that his chances were a big, fat goose egg, but she also liked playing games. Did that make her a bit of a sadist, sure, but at least she could admit that about herself.

Her smile hadn’t faded since she’d opened her mouth. “Bullshit?” Peak echoed, brows lifting. “You’re cuffed in our clubhouse, and you think you’re the one setting terms?”

Maeve leaned back as far as the chains allowed, metal scraping softly against metal. “I think,” she said calmly, “that if I were actually a threat to you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. The big guy over there wouldn’t even have let you in here to talk to me,” she said, nodding at Warden.

Peak’s jaw tightened. “You were watching our docks.” He wasn’t asking her a question, but she still felt the need to give him an answer.

“Yes,” she admitted.

“You ran when you saw our prospects in their kuttes,” Peak continued.

“Yes,” Maeve said again.

“And now you’re telling me that keeping you here is a bad idea?” He huffed out a short laugh. “You see the problem with your logic, right?”

Maeve’s eyes flicked to Warden for half a second before returning to Peak. “I see several problems,” she said. “Most of them end in blood if you don’t listen to me.”

Warden shifted. “Careful, sweetheart. Grave Prowlers don’t take kindly to threats.”

Maeve didn’t even look at him. “I am being careful.”

Peak studied her a moment longer, then finally opened his laptop; the soft click of the keyboard was loud in the quiet room. “Let’s try this another way,” he said. “Why were you at the docks?”

Maeve inhaled slowly, taking her time to answer. This was the part she had to get right. “I was looking for someone,” she said.

Peak’s fingers paused over the keyboard. “Who?”

“Someone who doesn’t belong to your club,” she replied. “But someone who’s been using your territory as cover.”

That got Warden’s attention. “Explain,” he ordered.

Maeve turned her head slightly, finally acknowledging him. “There’s a shipment moving through the docks—your docks. And it’s not anything you’d approve of if you knew about it.”

Peak’s gaze sharpened. “You expect us to believe you just stumbled onto that information?” he asked.

“No,” Maeve said honestly. “Because I didn’t stumble onto it—I tracked it.” Silence dropped heavy between them.

Peak closed the laptop slowly. “You’re going to need to do better than that.”

Maeve sighed, the sound soft but edged with frustration. “I’m not law enforcement, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not another club’s member, and I’m not your enemy. But the people I’m chasing?” She leaned forward as much as the cuffs allowed. “They will happily burn your world down to keep what they’re moving hidden.”

Peak crossed his arms. “Then why not come to us directly?”

A flicker of something crossed her face then—too fast to name, too real to fake. “Because men like you don’t tend to listen to women like me unless they catch them doing something wrong. So, I hung out in your territory and waited for your goons to show up and take me.”

Warden snorted. “Smart mouth for someone in cuffs.”