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CHAPTER

ONE

DENVER, FIVE YEARS AGO

The thundering rumble of Harleys echoed off the warehouse walls as the Iron Brotherhood rolled in for the night’s meeting.

Logan Gibson—known to the Brotherhood as “Wolf”—sat astride his matte-black Softail, the leather jacket he wore bearing the gang’s insignia heavy across his shoulders.

Eight months undercover had transformed him. His beard had grown thick, his hair past his shoulders, and his hands calloused from work that would never appear in any official report.

Across the warehouse, Bobby Riley pushed off his bike, removing his helmet to reveal a shock of dark hair. At twenty-two, he was the youngest full member of the Brotherhood. His boyish features seemed at odds with the violent reputation of his chosen family.

Everyone else called him Buzzy. But it helped Logan to think of him as Bobby. Not as a nickname. But as a person.

“Wolf!” Bobby called out, grinning as he approached. “You missed one heck of a run yesterday.”

Logan forced a smile, guilt churning in his stomach. He’d “missed” the run deliberately after getting word it involved moving a shipment of fentanyl across state lines. His handler had told him to stay away, to use that time to find other evidence they needed to bring these guys down.

But staying away had meant leaving Bobby unprotected. Thankfully, nothing had gone awry.

“Had some business to handle.” Logan dismounted and clasped Bobby’s forearm in greeting. “Heard it went smooth.”

“Smooth as silk.” Bobby lowered his voice, his pride evident. “Viper says I handled the deal better than guys twice my age.”

Viper—whose real name was Damon Kessler—was the Brotherhood’s leader.

And the primary target of Logan’s investigation. The man had ordered at least three murders that the police knew about.

“Listen.” Logan guided Bobby toward the makeshift bar in the corner. “You got plans tonight after this wraps?”

“Depends what you’re offering,” Bobby joked before grabbing a beer from the fridge and taking a seat on a stiff metal chair.

“I was thinking we could hit that diner you like, the one you and your sister always visit when she’s in town.”

Bobby’s expression brightened at the mention of Morgan. “She just had another exhibition, you know. In Seattle this time. Said she sold everything opening night.”

“No joke? That’s amazing.” Logan’s admiration was genuine.

He’d heard so much about Morgan Riley over the past several months that he sometimes felt he knew the woman. Bobby carried her photograph in his wallet—a beautiful, serious-looking woman with intelligent eyes that seemed to see right through the camera.

“Yeah, she’s something else.” Bobby stared into his beer bottle. “Keeps telling me I should move back to Alaska.”

The opening Logan had been waiting for had finally arrived.

After tonight’s meeting, he was going to tell Bobby everything—that he was an undercover officer, that the net was closing around the Brotherhood, and that Bobby needed to get out now before the indictments came down.

Logan had secured approval from his handler and had arranged for Bobby’s extraction and protection—in exchange for his testimony. All Logan needed was a few more hours.

“Maybe you should listen to her,” Logan said carefully. “Your sister sounds like a smart woman.”

Bobby snorted. “Smart enough to get a real job. I got this.” He gestured to the long scar up his neck from an initiation ritual he’d gone through before joining the Brotherhood. His voice contained a complex mix of pride and something darker. “Not everyone’s built for normal, Wolf.”

“Normal is overrated,” Logan agreed. “But alive is better than the alternative.”

Bobby might have responded, but Viper’s arrival silenced the warehouse.

The Brotherhood’s fearless leader strode inside flanked by his sergeant-at-arms, Knox, and his lieutenant, Razor. The trio ran the Brotherhood with calculated brutality.

Familiar tension tightened Logan’s spine.

Something was off tonight. The air felt charged, dangerous.

Logan prayed he wasn’t too late.

He had the information he needed.

Now he just needed to get Bobby out of here.

Then Logan could put this deep cover investigation behind him and try to resume normal life again.

Sometimes, however, that possibility felt impossible.

“Brothers!” Viper called out, his voice carrying across the warehouse. “Gather up. We got business to discuss.”

As members formed a rough circle, Logan positioned himself near Bobby, hyperaware of how Razor’s gaze seemed fixed on the younger man. Something was wrong, he realized. But he had no idea what.

“We had a good run yesterday,” Viper began, pacing slowly. “The merchandise was delivered, and the payment has been collected. Everything was smooth.” He stopped, his expression hardening. “Too smooth.”

The silence in the warehouse deepened.

“You see, our friends across the state border got hit by the DEA this morning. Lost everything. Everyone.” Viper’s eyes scanned the assembled men. “Funny timing, don’t you think? Almost like someone knew exactly when to call in the feds.”

Logan kept his expression neutral while his mind raced.

This wasn’t part of the plan. There wasn’t supposed to be any DEA action for another two weeks.

“Turn out your pockets,” Knox ordered. “Phones on the table. Now.”

As members complied, Logan followed suit, grateful for the burner that contained nothing incriminating. His real communication device was hidden in his boot heel, untraceable.

Viper examined each phone methodically until he reached Bobby’s. The younger man handed it over without hesitation, no fear in his expression—the confidence of the innocent.

“What’s this?” Viper held up the phone, displaying a text conversation.

Bobby squinted. “Just talking to my sister about some career opportunities she has.”

“Your sister.” Viper’s voice dripped with contempt. “The fancy photographer. The one who keeps telling you to leave the Brotherhood.”

Bobby flinched. “That’s not what?—”

“How much have you told her?”

The warehouse went completely silent.

Ice filled Logan’s veins.

Why was Viper targeting Bobby?

“I haven’t told her anything,” Bobby finally said. “I know the rules. What happens here stays here.”

“I think you might be talking too much.”

“That’s rubbish,” Bobby protested, his face paling.

Logan’s mind spun.

Morgan Riley was a photojournalist. Bobby talked about her all the time.

But had Bobby actually talked to her? Told her what the Brotherhood was up to? Maybe even about last night’s drug deal?

His stomach clamped tighter.

Logan stepped forward, trying to take some of the heat off Bobby, who’d become like a little brother to him. “Buzzy is solid. We all know that.”

Razor’s laugh was humorless. “Always defending your little protégé, aren’t you, Wolf? Makes a man wonder.”

“I’m not a rat.” Bobby’s voice cracked as he looked around at the men he considered brothers. “I would never tell anyone what we’re doing?—”

“Grab him,” Viper ordered.

Before Logan could react, two members seized Bobby’s arms. Training and instinct screamed at Logan to draw the concealed weapon holstered at his back.

But he was outnumbered fifteen to one.

Direct intervention would mean death for them both.

He only had seconds to decide what to do.

For now, Logan needed to comply. It was the best choice given this situation.

“Let’s take a ride.” Viper nodded toward the door. “See if the truth comes out with some fresh air.”

As they dragged Bobby toward the exit, Logan followed, his mind racing through options, each worse than the last.

They were headed toward the vans—standard Brotherhood procedure for “interrogations” that left no survivors.

His head pounded harder.

“Viper,” Logan called out. “Let me talk to Buzzy first. He’ll tell me the truth.”

The gang leader paused, considering. “You’ve got a soft spot for this kid, Wolf. That’s been clear from day one.”

“I vouched for him when he patched in,” Logan acknowledged. “So his screwup reflects on me. Let me handle it.”

A tense moment passed before Viper nodded. “You ride with him then. Knox drives.”

It wasn’t ideal, but the new setup bought time.

Logan climbed into the back of the van beside a terrified Bobby while Razor and Knox took the front seats. Viper and a couple of other members took a second van.

“I didn’t do anything,” Bobby whispered, his voice cracking as the van pulled away from the warehouse. “You’ve gotta believe me, Wolf.”

“I know you didn’t.” Logan began calculating distances, response times, extraction points.

His handler was twenty minutes away at best. Too long. Logan couldn’t contact him anyway. Doing so right now would be too risky.

That meant he had no backup.

It was only Logan against the Brotherhood.

He was strong and trained, but there was no way he could take on all these guys himself.

The van wound through Denver’s industrial district toward the South Platte River. Logan knew the destination—the Brotherhood had used Alameda Bridge before. It was remote enough at night with deep waters below.

“I should’ve listened to her,” Bobby’s voice was barely audible over the engine. “Morgan kept saying I was better than this life. If anything happens to me, you’ve got to watch out for her. Promise me. Please.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

Sweat beaded across Bobby’s forehead. “I wish I believed that.”

Logan wished he believed his own words also. But he had no idea how they were going to get out of this situation.

Logan made his decision.

“Bobby, listen to me carefully,” he whispered. “When we stop, stay behind me. No matter what happens.”

Bobby’s eyes widened with desperate hope. “You believe me?”

“I know you’re innocent,” Logan confirmed. “But there’s something you need to know about me?—”

The van lurched to a stop, cutting him off.

Knox killed the engine.

“End of the line.” Razor turned in his seat with a pistol already drawn. “Out.”

Logan was out of time.

But he had to think of a way to save Bobby.

He couldn’t let things end like this.