Page 16 of Kane
“Heard you have a new driver for the pro team,” he said. “Can’t wait to see him run at Redline Speedway next week.”
I smirked. “You’ll see him.”
He gave me a thumbs-up, then turned back to unlock his store.
I swung a leg over my Harley, dropped the bag into the saddle compartment, and fired up the engine. The roar echoed off the walls as I peeled out, headed back to the compound.
When I pulled through the gates, brothers were moving between the main building and the garage where we kept our bikes to protect them and do small repairs. The hum of an engine being tuned bled into the air like background music.
I parked, cut the engine, and stalked inside.
Axle, Jax, and Nitro were already waiting in my office when I got back. Jax was perched on the edge of the desk, fingers tapping his phone, his glasses sitting on the top of his head. Axle was stretched out in one of the leather chairs, feet crossed, calm as always. Nitro leaned against the wall, arms crossed and expression dark.
I set the bag down behind my desk and dropped onto the chair.
“Update?” I asked Jax.
“I’ve been doing a deeper dive into the companies we do business with and found one that I don’t recognize, but they have shown up a fuck of a lot in the past six months. Bayfront Logistics. I went digging into their finances. They show unfiled invoices and private transfers. I traced it back to a secure account owned by an LLC called CR Enterprises. Their fingerprints are on multiple transfers, and they signed off on a few equipment shipments that were never real—dummy invoices designed to shift money.”
“The name on the LLC?” I asked.
Jax didn’t look up. “Henry Allen. He’s a manager of operations for one of your legitimate racing subsidiaries—specifically the vendor logistics and sponsorship coordination arm for multiple events and track supply contracts.” Jax paused,dropping his glasses onto his nose as his eyes scanned the screen once more before narrowing. “He handled the vendor contracts for your Tallahassee tracks. The ones you’ve been getting the offers on.”
My blood cooled. I knew Allen. Trusted him, even. Slick talker with a clean record. Had a way of making sponsors open their wallets and bureaucrats back off. He’d been with me since I started expanding the legal circuit. Helped secure permits, file LLCs, and coordinate regional vendors. He’d handled major sponsor contacts and payouts without issue—I never had a reason to doubt him.
Honestly, I’d never really liked him much as a person, but I respected Allen as a “necessary evil” who kept the above-ground side smooth.
Now, though…
“You sure?” I asked even though I already knew the answer.
Jax turned the screen toward me. “Positive. He didn’t use his real name on the registration. But the IP address that filed the paperwork came from his home office. Sloppy.”
Edge whistled low. “And here I thought that smug bastard was just good at schmoozing sponsors.”
I stared at the name for a long second.Henry Allen. The motherfucker had been sitting at my table. Eating off my plate. Smiling while he stabbed me in the back.
“I want him watched,” I said. “Don’t spook him. Don’t make contact. Just keep eyes on him. If he twitches, I want to know.”
“Will do,” Jax confirmed.
“Hear anything on Devon?”
He shook his head, frustration tightening his mouth. “Still nothing. No movement. No chatter. No burner pings. If Quincy knows we have her, he’s not showing it."
“Maybe he doesn’t know yet,” Nitro offered.
“Could be,” Jax muttered. “Drift made sure the message got out. We were seen. Someone had to pass the word. Could be he’s just that good at hiding.”
“Unless he’s dead,” Axle offered, not unkindly. Just practical.
I didn’t like that thought.
Not because I gave a shit about Devon Quincy.
But because of how it would affect Savannah.
Axle leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “So what happens if ten days come and go? What do we do then? You keeping her?”