Page 40 of Peak’s Code

“You’ve been tracking me for years?”

“Only when necessary,” Captain insisted.

Peak stared through the narrow opening. “You and I are going to have a conversation about boundaries.”

“Looking forward to it. Now, are you letting me in before someone sees me standing here?” Peak glanced at Maeve, and she nodded once. He closed the door long enough to remove the chain, then opened it again. Captain slipped inside, and Peak immediately locked everything behind him.

The club’s president looked like he’d survived a war. Soot streaked one side of his face. His jeans were ripped at the knee, and dried blood covered the sleeve of his shirt beneath his leather kutte. A fresh bandage circled his left forearm. Maeve lowered her pistol but didn’t put it away.

“She seems like a smart girl,” he said.

“Yeah, and she’s paranoid,” Peak corrected.

“Same thing if it keeps her breathing.” Captain turned and studied the room. His gaze passed over the single bed, the open takeout containers, and the two drinks sitting side by side on the nightstand. One eyebrow lifted, but he kept whatever he was thinking to himself. Maeve was grateful for that.

“Is everyone okay?” she asked.

Captain looked at her. “We’re all alive.”

“That wasn’t what I asked,” Maeve said.

“No, it wasn’t.” He removed his hat and dragged a hand through his gray-streaked hair. “Two prospects are in the hospital. One has burns on his arms and chest. The other caught enough shrapnel that the doctors will be pulling metal out of him for the next few days.”

Guilt wrapped around Maeve’s throat. “And the brother who was shot?”

“The bullet went through his shoulder, but missed the important parts.” Captain’s eyes narrowed when she looked away. “Don’t.”

She frowned. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t take responsibility for what happened,” Captain said.

“They attacked your clubhouse because I was there,” she breathed.

“They attacked because someone thought they could use Grave Prowler territory to traffic women without consequences.” His voice hardened. “They were wrong.” Maeve wanted to believe him, but the dark stain covering his sleeve made that difficult.

Peak moved closer to her, not touching her but standing near enough so that she could feel his presence. “What happened with Mercer?” he asked.

Captain’s expression changed. The exhaustion remained, but something colder moved behind his eyes. “We got him to the temporary clubhouse.”

“Did he say anything?” Maeve asked.

“He talked,” Captain said. He sounded pretty damn proud of the fact that they were able to get Mercer to talk.

Her heartbeat stumbled. “What did he say about Wren?” Captain didn’t immediately answer, and his hesitation terrified her more than any words could have. “Is she dead?” Maeve whispered.

“No,” Captain said. “Mercer didn’t say she was dead.”

“That isn’t the same as saying she’s alive,” Maeve insisted.

“No, it isn’t.” Maeve tightened her grip on the pistol until the textured handle bit into her palm. She’d survived eighteen months without answers. She could survive another few seconds—maybe.

“What did he tell you?” Peak asked.

Captain reached inside his kutte and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “He gave us a location.”

Maeve crossed the room before she realized she was moving. “Where?” Captain handed the paper to Peak instead of her, and she bristled. “Why are you giving it to him?”

“Because I need you to listen before you run out that door and get yourself killed,” Captain said.