Page 39 of Peak’s Code

"No, you don't,” he countered.

"No." She sighed. "I really don't." The words slipped out before she could stop them, and their eyes met, but neither spoke nor looked away. Something shifted in the air. The attraction that had been simmering beneath every sarcastic exchange finally surfaced. It wasn’t because either of them admitted to liking the other, but the silence between them no longer felt awkward. It felt comfortable.

An hour later, they sat cross-legged on the motel bed sharing greasy takeout from the only diner still open after midnight. Peak reached for one of her fries, and Maeve smacked his hand with her own. "I was eating that."

"It was on my side of the plate,” he said.

She stole one off his plate in retaliation. "There, now we're even."

Peak laughed. "You fight dirty."

"You have no idea,” she drawled.

"I've started figuring that out." She smiled around another bite of fries. For a few precious minutes, they weren't hunted hackers; they were simply two exhausted people sharing terrible motel food.

Peak realized something then. He hadn't thought about the firefight, or Mercer, or the club for almost ten minutes. Maeve had somehow quieted the constant noise in his head. The realization should have terrified him, but instead, it made him wonder how long it had been since he'd enjoyed someone else's company this much.

A sharp knock at the motel door shattered the moment. There were three slow knocks, followed by two quick ones. Peak's expression hardened instantly because he knew that it had to be Captain. That was the emergency knock the Grave Prowlers had used for years. The only problem was—Captain didn't know where they were staying.

Peak slowly reached for his pistol and noticed that Maeve had already drawn hers. Someone outside knew exactly where to find them. The question was—who was dumb enough to knock on their door?

Maeve

There were three slow knocks, followed by two quick ones at the motel door. Maeve’s hand was already wrapped around the pistol she’d set on the nightstand. Across the motel room, Peak had gone completely still. The easy grin he’d worn while stealing her fries vanished, replaced by a cold expression that reminded her exactly who he was beneath the sarcasm and mechanic’s grease.

He slid off the bed without making a sound, keeping his weapon pointed toward the faded blue door. Maeve followed, moving to the narrow strip of wall beside the bathroom. Peak caught her eye and pointed toward the tub. She shook her head, and his jaw tightened. She wasn’t hiding in a bathtub while he faced whoever was standing outside. He should have known her better by now.

Another series of knocks broke the silence. Three slow and two quick. Peak moved to the window and carefully lifted the edge of the curtain with the barrel of his gun. He stared into the parking lot for several seconds before letting the fabric fall back into place.

“Who is it?” Maeve whispered.

“Captain.” Relief tried to rush through her, but she stopped it.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“I know his truck,” Peak insisted.

“That doesn’t mean he’s alone.”

Peak looked at her, and something like approval flashed across his face. “No, it doesn’t.” He moved beside the door and unlocked the deadbolt but left the security chain in place. Opening the door two inches, he kept his body out of sight.

Captain’s gruff voice came through the gap. “You planning on making me stand out here all damn night?”

“How’d you find us?” Peak demanded.

“Open the door,” Captain ordered.

“Answer the question,” Captain muttered something Maeve couldn’t make out, and then he stepped back far enough for Peak to see both his hands.

“I’m alone.”

“That wasn’t the question,” Peak said.

“The club put a tracker on your bike years ago,” Captain admitted.

Peak went still. “You did what?”

Captain sighed. “You disappeared for three days after your grandfather died. Your grandmother nearly had a heart attack looking for you. I promised her it wouldn’t happen again.”