ier

ewing its way up through my hip, hot as

ached. Outside the reinforced windows, the roar of twin-cam V-Twins echoed off the corrugated steel of the Iron Wraith

wasn't d

threw it down my throat. The alcohol burned going down, but

door swung open

ather Cut hanging heavy over broad shoulders, the Grim Reaper center patch gleaming against the worn cowhide. On his left breast, the di

hind him with a dull thud. "The advance team

ter. "Did Gregory deliver the collateral, or am I sendin

ough his scarred brow furrowed. "B

bove my ruined knee. I looked up, letting

gers. "The pretty, blonde trophy daughter he parades around his country club. Our contact inside says Grego

ng seconds. A harsh, humorle

inst the leather. "Brielle. Annelise. A pedigreed Roman mare or a stray. They're all the same. Collateral on

htening. "Our boy tapped the second-floor intercom twen

enly took a backseat. The ro

did

ard the bone give way through the mic. Right side. Sounded like cracked ri

ited behind my eyes, fast

nching steel and cracking skulls, clamped onto the armre

with a venom that made Cipher's shoulders square up. "That girl became the property of this

f the Glock 21 tucked into his tactical vest beneath his Cut. "I'll take four p

"Bring her here first. Put her in my truck, not on the back of a bike if her

erst

d out just as he reac

king back over

of place when she reaches the clubhouse steps, I won't just for

r it don

the hallway, leavin

ls, and dry-swallowed three of them. Hollis, our club medic, called them experiment

le of Cipher's bike fired up outside, tear

eli

rowaway. A

broken things either learned how to