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Jazz panted with effort and picked up her speed as she cruised through the neighborhood on her preferred form of transportation.

She was at loose ends. No work at the bakery for now, no work deadlines, and no scam baiting.

She was too restless to read books or watch her favorite TV.

Her skin itched from the boring confinement.

Maybe a visit to Hugo and the dog treat place was in order.

At least it would give her something to do and somewhere to be.

Wolf was down at the club, meeting with the other members about what the future would hold with him as president.

What exactly did that mean for her? Was she now a club queen? She’d watched Sons of Anarchy , but that was a TV show and not how real motorcycle clubs worked, right?

Gah, she thought as she pedaled onto the bike lane heading to the bridge. She had other issues more important than what her club status would be.

Liz finally showed up and had a complete shit fit over her kids.

She promptly pointed her finger at Jazz while angrily cussing and accusing her sister of negligence.

That was totally rich, considering no one could find her for almost twenty-four hours.

Still, their mother capitulated, and the boys were back with their grandparents. No one thought to contact Leo.

Jazz felt sorry for her nephews’ predicament, but legally, there wasn’t much she could do other than be supportive. Her last words to Ian were “Call me if you need me” before Liz took them to dump on their grandmother.

A few cars whizzed by, but she was too lost in her head to pay much attention to them.

One car stayed behind her for some distance but then turned off on a side road.

Just before she reached the bridge, she noticed the deep rumbling sound of many motorcycle engines.

They were behind her and coming up fast.

Shit! She took the exit for the bridge and didn’t dare look to see who it was. Could be some other riding group and not one of the MCs. No one is going to worry about a single bicycle rider. Mind your business and keep moving.

The plan was a good one, but unfortunately, it didn’t work.

Jazz found herself surrounded by loud motorcycles as they crowded around her about a third of the way onto the bridge.

The signs said no motorcycles in the bike lane, but that didn’t stop them.

She had to brake hard when two bikers cut her off.

The Slaggers logo blazed from their cuts.

“Well, well, well, isn’t this a coincidence? Look who’s out for an afternoon ride.” Ramrod dismounted and swaggered up to Jazz. “You owe me some fucking money, bitch.”

Her entire body locked into place, and her heart revved up to the point of explosion. “What?”

“You heard me. I know it was you who fucked with our accounts. You’re gonna come with me to the clubhouse and put it all back. You get me?”

Play dumb. I don’t know what you’re talking about. What money? “Dumb money talking.”

He snatched her from the bike, pulling her jacket taut around her throat and lifting her to his sneering face. “Don’t fuck with me, cunt. I got a computer guy prospecting with me, and he says you’re some sort of cyber genius. Someone took our money, and that someone is you.”

One of the other Slaggers picked up her bike and heaved it over the side of the bridge. Jazz counted to ten twice before she heard the splash of it hitting the water below.

“It’s your lucky day, bitch. You get to live long enough to get our accounts full.

” He pulled her cell phone from his pocket and stuffed it into his own.

“If you’re a good girl, I’ll shoot you quick.

If you fuck around, every one of my guys is gonna take turns fucking your ass while you choke to death on my cock.

” He pulled her closer, and she smelled his sour breath.

“Then I’ll kill your family, starting with your fucking brother. ”

She couldn’t breathe enough to respond. Of all the scenarios she’d planned for, this wasn’t one of them. How did they find out about her? She always covered her tracks with the utmost detail. No one should have been able to find her. Not even Copperpot. What happened?

Ramrod let go of her throat, and she fell to the hard ground, gasping and choking. Another biker jerked her up by the arm, and she cried out in pain.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch, or you’ll follow your fuckin’ bike over the side.”

They forced her to mount behind one of the riders and then took off. Jazz held on gingerly, helmetless and scared spitless. All she could think about was Hugo, the boys, her parents…

And Wolf.

Miracle rescues only happened in movies, and happy-ever-after endings were for fairy tales. Ramrod would no more keep his word than Quark, the Ferengi merchant seeking profit on Deep Space Nine . She hoped she could figure out how to keep everyone safe while satisfying the Slagger overlord.

They pulled up to an abandoned store in a strip mall with boarded-up windows in the front. Jazz noted it was the same place that housed the club’s bogus dry-cleaning operation. The biker she rode with yanked her off his machine with a snarl. “You’d better get it done quick, cunt.”

He shoved her into the closed store, and she fell to the floor. She caught herself by her wrists, and pain zinged up to both elbows. Are they going to beat me up first?

Ramrod grabbed her by the hair, and she screamed as he dragged her across the floor.

“Shut the fuck up and fix it, bitch.” He pointed to an ancient dust-covered desktop computer on the counter that was connected by a hard-wired USB cable.

Old tech and not secure at all. Maybe she could send out a message to someone. Anyone.

A folding metal chair was slammed in front of the box screen. “What the fuck are you waiting for? Get to it.”

With trembling hands, she lifted herself to the chair and turned on the monitor. A voice in the background made a tsking noise. “She’s not going to be able to use that thing. It doesn’t have the necessary RAM.”

“She’s gonna get rammed if she doesn’t take care of business,” one biker guffawed while the others laughed. One of them started playing music out of an old boom box while another pulled out an array of liquor bottles.

Jazz heard a drip of disgust at the man’s next reply. “Not ram as in fuck. RAM as in random access memory. This one doesn’t have the capacity to do what you want her to do.”

There was a light accent to the man’s baritone. Jazz stiffly turned to see him. He had on a leather jacket, and she assumed he was part of the club. “Y-y-you’re right. I c-c-can’t do anything with this machine. It’s too old.”

His dark eyes met hers, and the blood froze in her veins. There was nothing there. No emotions. No hate. No love. No anger. No happiness. The man was void of life, yet still walking and talking. She watched as he raised a finger to stroke over a scar near his left ear.

This was him. The one who’d killed her friends, the other scam-shielders.

No, she wouldn’t be getting out of this alive. But she would fight until her last breath to keep others safe. “Do you have a laptop or something with at least DDR4 or DDR SDRAM?”

His black eyebrow rose. “Yes, I have an upgraded system.”

“Well, bring that shit in here. I want my fuckin’ money,” Ramrod yelled in frustration.

The man took his attention from Jazz and jerked his head to the back of the store. “It’s ready to go.”

Jazz stumbled along the short hallway to what might have been an office at one time.

The room was small with a row of awning windows close to the ceiling.

Two of them were open, and the other two were painted shut.

A small skylight let the sunlight shine down on the card table with two large monitors, a keyboard, a mouse, and a powerful desktop.

If she had any doubts about the man’s identity, there were none now.

“You want a snack and some water?” Ramrod sang out sarcastically. “Get your ass to work!”

Jazz bit her lip to keep it from trembling and sat in the wobbling office chair as she booted the computer up. The machine went through its beeps and clicks as it awoke.

“Hurry the fuck up!” Ramrod shoved her just behind her neck, and she gasped as she snapped forward. Her hands hit the edge of the table so her face wouldn’t smash into it.

The assassin made that tsking noise again. “It takes a while for the computer. Patience. You’ll get all that’s coming to you.”

“Whatever,” Ramrod growled. “I need to take a piss.”

Jazz flared her nostrils to take in a large breath as she pulled herself up. She could not afford to break down the way she wanted to. She licked her lips and tasted blood. Apparently, she’d made contact with the table anyway.

“So, I guess you’re the one who… killed my friends?”

“Yes.”

The cold answer wasn’t menacing. If anything, it sounded bored.

“Why did you do that?” She could see his reflection on one monitor. She focused on it, trying to glean anything she could from him.

“I was hired to do a job. I did it.”

“Those people who hired you are criminals. They take advantage of elderly people and steal from others who are just trying to make a living. It’s not right.”

“Not my problem.”

“The shielders were just trying to help those people. What if it was your mother or your sister who was robbed?”

His reptilian eyes met hers on the glassy screen. “I don’t have family. I suggest you get to work.”

She shuddered and placed her hands on the keyboard. “We were so careful. You must be a real whiz at code in order to find us.”

The man’s expression didn’t change. “Not my job. The man who built the code ran away. We can’t track him.”

“How did you find me?”

He shrugged. “I don’t really know or care. I was told the head programmer who escaped has a tracking program that was modified. It wasn’t easy to break through his code, but it led me to CatLady50. Unfortunately, that tool was lost when you destroyed the network.”

So, he didn’t know coding or computer language or anything like that. There was a chance. It was a long shot, but it was her only option at a happy ending.

She put her hands on the keyboard and started typing.