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Wolf couldn’t tell if he referred to himself, his wife, or his rescuer.

Either way, the pain that had simmered down in his head after he left the club came back to life with a vicious twist between his eyes.

He almost dropped Bill as the man cursed again, this time in a pain that echoed the one in Wolf’s head.

“Son of a bitch! I think I broke my gawddamn arm!”

Madge visibly paled. “That’s it. I’m calling the ambulance.”

“For Chrissake, woman! Just put me in the car and take me to the damn hospital. I don’t want those damn sirens wailing through here, waking the neighbors and telling everyone our business!”

Madge opened her mouth to argue with her stubborn husband, then shut it with a click.

Wolf agreed with her silent decision. Better to save her temper and get him medical treatment ASAP.

“Wolf, can you put him in the car? I’ll go get dressed and be down in a jiffy.

” She looked closer at the biker’s face. “Whatsamatta with you?”

Wolf forced his mouth to relax. “I’m good. I’ll follow you to the hospital.”

Madge shook her head. “They got people there who can unload him. If you want to help me, can you go by Jazzy’s place and tell her what’s happened and that I need her to open the bakery for me? I don’t know how long we’ll be there, and my people need their morning cup.”

“Give me her number and I’ll text her.”

“She broke her phone yesterday and needs buying one. Her place isn’t far, just down the greenway on Butler.” Madge rattled off the address. “Jazzy don’t sleep much and does a lot of computer stuff at night. I’m sure she’s still up even at this hour.”

Wolf’s eyes felt like they wanted to pop from their sockets.

Madge’s focus on Bill kept her from noticing, but that was okay.

Yeah, he’d go knock on Jazz’s door and tell her what’s going on, then get home himself and eat a bottle of Excedrin or Tylenol or both.

Whatever he had in his cabinet. Shit, he hoped nothing had expired.

Madge’s taillights went in one direction and Wolf’s in another.

He found Jazz’s house and parked next to her car.

He almost missed the odd-looking abode, as only the short bridge connecting it to the road was visible in the dark.

He noticed the house faced the greenway and river, and he bet the views were fantastic.

Sure enough, he spotted the lights on in one upper room, just as Madge had said. Even if the house had been dark, he’d still have banged on the door, not caring about waking her. His goal was to get the message to the pretty barista and leave.

He knocked on the door as he swayed with a churning gut.

Moments later, Jazz appeared. Her image swam in front of him, and his stomach flipped over as a ringing filled his ears, blocking out all other sound.

Fuck was his last coherent thought as he let loose over the railing. Way to impress a lady, asshole.

He spat the foul taste from his mouth and garbled his words out quickly before his brain exploded. “Madge took Bill to the emergency room and needs you to open the bakery for her.”

The world tilted with sickening angles. Passing out seemed both imminent and a good idea. “Mind if I come in for a minute?”

Without waiting for her answer, he lumbered into her house in search of a place to collapse before he landed on the floor.

* * *

“My name is Mike, and I’m calling from the Internal Revenue Service. Are you aware you have unpaid taxes?”

Jazz coughed. Today she’d decided on her old woman persona. “Oh, dearest, I haven’t paid any taxes since my husband died about seven years ago. He was the one who paid all our bills.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but you must pay something today or else we will have no choice but to send the authorities to arrest you. They’re on their way now and will be there in thirty minutes if you don’t.”

Her fingers flew over the keyboard, easily hacking into her opponent’s system. Not much here. Must be a first-timer.

In less than three minutes, she cleaned him out and then dropped the facade. “All done, Sparky. I’d find some other line of work. You really suck at this one.”

“Wha—”

She didn’t wait for the guy to get his muddled brain in order. She closed off the call and scrubbed everything.

A few moments later, a message popped up on her computer.

Copperpot100: I only took out three tonight. Pretty slim pickings. You?

Jazzyhands: Just one. I’ve been pretty busy lately with work and the coffee shop.

Copperpot100 was one of the original scam-shielders, perhaps even the one who started the online team.

No one had a clue if Copper was a man or a woman, and the anonymity of the online IDs was critical to their cause.

Still, it was sometimes easy to guess the person behind the handle.

Jazz had no idea how many members had joined this group of computer vigilantes, but everybody had only one goal: take out as many scammers and sites as possible.

Jazz loved the phone call schemes and had dealt with fake Amazon and bank pages.

Glyndathegood did well with the romance catfishers, the ones who sent pics of sexy men to lonely women and convinced them to give up their life savings for love.

Bomber123 favored the charity email scams. Muscleman2019 took out business fraud. Copperpot100 did them all.

Copperpot100: I wish I’d gotten online earlier. Too late for a woman in Ohio. Her credit card maxed out in seconds.

Jazz picked up her half-eaten hoagie and took a huge bite, grateful she didn’t have her webcam on.

This time of night, she wore her most torn-up LuLaRoe leggings and a holey gray thermal.

No bra as she was home and only wore one when she left it.

The house was cool but not uncomfortably so.

The proximity to the river and the winds from the moving waters kept it cool enough at night that she didn’t need air-conditioning most of the time, and the summer heat was still a long way off.

Jazzyhands: Jeez, that sucks donkey balls.

Copperpot100: LMFAO!

She grinned and shifted the food from one side of her cheek to the other. Freya jumped onto the desk and started sniffing at the Darth Vader-shaped plate. “Get off, ya freeloader.”

Copperpot100: I saw on the dark web about a hacker who took down an entire network and its partner networks. Know anything about that?

Jazz grinned around her full mouth and typed with one hand.

Jazzyhands: Not a thing, but I bet it was epic.

Copperpot100: Epic is one word. Dangerous is another.

From the scuttlebutt out there, the network systems were linked to some transportation tracking systems. An entire airline got crippled by that virus, leaving planes unable to fly.

It also crashed the navigation for train travel systems in three countries.

No major accidents, but it stranded people for hours. Cost that company millions.

Jazz paused with the sandwich halfway to her open mouth. The thought hadn’t occurred to her that the trouble she caused might hurt the very people she wanted to protect. She took another bite and rapidly typed as she chewed.

Jazzyhands: If it’s the virus I’m thinking of, then it has special markers to protect legit code.

Pretty tricky stuff, but if the scammers are connected to legit businesses, like for laundering the scammed funds, then there’s bound to be some crossover.

I’m sure whoever let that virus loose didn’t mean anything bad.

Copperpot100: I have no doubts about the person who designed and released that virus. I hope they will be more careful in the future.

Why did she feel as if she’d been scolded by an older brother? She dug her bare toes into the thin rug at her feet and switched the subject.

Jazzyhands: Guess what?

Copperpot100: What?

Jazzyhands: Remember that biker guy I told you about? The one with the cool hair and great body?

Copperpot100: Yeah, what about him?

Jazzyhands: HE SPOKE TO ME AND EVEN CALLED ME BY NAME!!

Copperpot100: Slow down, cowgirl. You do know biker gangs are a pretty rough crowd. I wouldn’t want you to get involved with those kinds of criminals.

Jazzyhands: Biker CLUB, not GANG. Besides, he’s a good biker. Not a bad one.

Copperpot100: There’s a difference?

Jazzyhands: Of course!

A hard pounding on the door caught her attention. Only one person would dare come see her in the middle of the night.

Jazzyhands: I gotta go. My sister just showed up. She probably needs money again. Bleh, I wish she’d get a clue that I’m as broke as she is! TTFN!

She logged off before Copperpot responded and took another huge bite of her sandwich.

“I’m comin’, jerkface!” she yelled around the gargantuan mass before stomping as loudly as her bare feet allowed to the back street door.

“If you need money, you’ll have to hit up Hugo ’cause you still owe me from last mo?—”

Her voice died as Wolf filled the door. He squinted at her, somewhat unsteady on his feet.

Oh shit! Are you drunk? What are you doing here? How did you find me? “Doing me drunk?” Dammit! I wish the earth would open up and swallow me whole!

Wolf just looked at her. Then he groaned and leaned over the railing as he vomited into the bushes.