Page 2 of Kane
“It’s not a big deal.” He didn’t look me in the eye as he added, “Just IA poking around because they don’t have anything better to do.”
“Dev—”
“I’m serious,” he cut in. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
I might’ve bought that, except he was clearly worried. Devon had always been cool under pressure. But tonight, his bouncing leg told a different story. “You really expect me to believe that?”
“I’m telling you what I can.” He stood suddenly, pacing to the window to peek through the blinds. “I just wanted to let you know I’ll be off the grid for a bit.”
“Off the grid?” I echoed. “What does that even mean?”
“I need a break.”
My pulse leaped for real now. “Is someone after you?”
“It’s safer if you don’t know.”
“You’re scaring me,” I whispered. “Talk to me, Dev. Please.”
He hesitated before shaking his head. “I’m handling it. I promise.”
I didn’t believe him—not for a second. But I also knew the look in his eyes. He wasn’t going to tell me more, no matter how hard I pushed.
So I didn’t. “Is there anything you need? I haven’t shopped in a while, but I have a box of those chocolate-dipped granola bars that you love in the pantry.”
“That’d be great.” As I headed toward the kitchen area, he asked, “Can I use your bathroom before I head out?”
“Sure.”
After I grabbed the granola bars and a few other things he liked, I noticed he set his jacket on the couch. A rolled-up folderstuck out from the inside pocket, and my curiosity got the better of me. Setting the bag of supplies down next to it, I shifted the folder enough to see a name on the tab—Bayfront Logistics.
It wasn’t a company I’d ever heard of before, but the bathroom door opened before I could see what was inside. I didn’t ask about it as he gave me a hug, but the second the door shut behind him, I grabbed my laptop and typed “Bayfront Logistics” into the search bar, hoping for something that would tell me what the heck my brother had gotten himself into.
The first result that popped up was the company website, but that didn’t give me much to go on. The site was generic, with stock images and vague promises about freight efficiency. There were no executive bios or press releases. Just a Contact Us form in place of a phone number or address.
Frustrated by how little information their site provided, I ran a business search through the state’s registry. The company was based in Crossbend, which wasn’t far from here, but there were zero employee names listed. Just a registered agent and a holding corporation that led to another shell company.
I refined my search by adding “Crossbend” and finally found something buried two pages down in the results. A brief mention in the city’s zoning board minutes of someone named Kane Beckett in connection with the company.
I clicked faster, fingers flying over the keyboard as results started popping up left and right when I did a search on him. The guy was a billionaire who dominated just about every car racing report. It wasn’t until I dug through racing forums that I found whispers of an underground circuit. Every thread that mentioned Kane had the same tone—vague but respectful. And fearful, especially the posts that talked about how he formed the Redline Kings MC. Which didn’t bode well for my brother.
I grabbed my phone and called him.
He answered on the second ring. “Savannah?”
The sound of his voice made my chest ache. “What is Bayfront Logistics?”
Silence.
“You left a folder in your jacket. I saw the name,” I explained. “And I looked it up. It’s based in Crossbend, and there’s barely anything on it, except maybe a link to someone named Kane Beckett. Who is he? What’s going on?”
“Dammit,” he muttered, low and sharp. “I told you there was nothing to worry about.”
I shot to my feet. “Then tell me why you’re looking into a company whose online footprint is suspicious.”
“I can’t explain it, not right now. But you need to stay out of this. Do you hear me?” His voice rose with urgency. “You don’t know who these people are. They’re not regular bad guys. If you poke the wrong way, they’ll come for you.”
My hands shook. “Devon?—”