Page 6 of Nitro (Redline Kings MC #3)

NITRO

T he Pit was quieter than usual, the hum of fans mixing with the tinny buzz of an old radio Gauge had left on low near a workbench in another bay.

The evening heat pressed down heavy, thick with oil and exhaust, the kind of Florida night when even shadows sweated.

I was leaning over a carb rebuild for a classic bike I wanted to race in a few months.

Grease streaked across my wrist, and a socket wrench was clenched between two fingers when Jax’s shadow fell across the bay door.

I didn’t need to look up to know it was him. Jax always carried a different kind of noise with him. Kinda like he had keyboards in his head and circuits in his veins. He wasn’t loud, but when he was wound tight, the air around him got prickly, like static before a strike.

He leaned against the post, glasses sliding down his nose and three days of stubble shadowing his jaw. I glanced up and noted that he wasn’t looking at the bike. Instead, he was staring at me.

“Spit it out,” I muttered, setting the socket down with more force than was necessary. “Been pacing my bay for ten minutes, Jax. What’s eating you?”

His jaw flexed, and for a second, I thought he might stall. That wasn’t like him. Jax didn’t hesitate unless it was bad. Then he pushed his glasses up, crossed his arms, and spoke low. “Dug deeper into our rookie’s background.”

My spine went rigid even though I kept my eyes on the car. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he echoed, voice flat. “She’s clean under the alias. No priors. No paper trail worth noting. But when I ran her real name through my nets, I got red flags.”

I straightened, wiping my hands on a rag that already looked like hell. “What kind?”

“The Broken Skulls.” His eyes sharpened, watching like he expected me to explode. “Father’s patched in. Has been since before she was born. And she’s got a half brother. Prospect turned full member three years back.”

Heat surged in my gut, quick and violent. The Skulls were dirty bastards with no code or honor, the kind of club that’d sell kids poison and call it business. We’d tangled with them before—bloody, ugly, and never finished.

Jax didn’t flinch at my expression, though his hand twitched like he wanted a keyboard in front of him.

“Far as I can tell, she hasn’t had contact in a while.

Her phone’s clean. Same with her bank account.

Nothing ties her directly to them now. But the lack of communication could be deliberate. You know how this looks, Nitro.”

I did. Fuck . I knew exactly how it looked.

A woman walked onto Kane’s track with a fake name, no history until a few years back, and bloodlines that ran straight to one of the dirtiest MCs in the state.

To anyone else, she was an obvious plant.

A problem. A knife tucked under a pretty dress, waiting to gut us. Shit!

Jax’s voice dropped another notch. “I’m bringing this to you first, but if you don’t tell Kane, I will. This isn’t the kind of thing that gets shelved.”

I dragged a hand through my hair, tugging hard at the roots until it hurt. Jana, with her freckled nose and fire-bright hair. The way she met my stare like she wanted to burn in it. Broken Skulls? What the fuck?

The bile in my throat tasted like betrayal, but my gut wouldn’t line up with it.

She wasn’t hiding them. No, she was hiding from them.

I could feel it in the way she flinched when someone loomed too close.

How her laugh always carried steel under it, like she’d had to teach herself joy after someone tried to break it.

I dropped the rag, pushed past Jax, and muttered, “I’ll take care of it.”

He caught my arm. His grip was tight, firmer than most people gave him credit for. “Take care of it by telling Kane, Nitro. Don’t make me your enemy on this.”

My eyes cut to his, sharp enough to draw blood. “I’ll tell him.”

I meant it. And I didn’t waste another second before hopping on my Harley and heading toward the clubhouse.

I headed straight for Kane's office when I arrived, rapping twice on the frame and pushing the door open before he bothered to tell me to come in. The office was Kane’s to the bone—functional yet edged with quiet power.

Big enough to hold large club meetings, with a conference table, a couple of couches—which looked reupholstered, again, probably his old lady’s doing—and a small bar.

There were maps pinned on the wall, light filtered through the blinds of his window, and a new shelf lined with trophies that Savannah had probably arranged because Kane didn’t give two fucks about decor—or his trophies.

He was behind his custom, hand-carved, solid walnut desk, arms folded, eyes sharp enough to make weaker men sweat.

“Interrupting?” I asked.

“Only Edge’s story about how he once scared a raccoon to death,” Kane replied, voice dry.

Edge didn’t even blink. “Wasn’t scared. Heart attack. Difference.” He spun the blade between his fingers and grinned, sharp and white. “Thing took one look at me and cashed out. Efficient.”

My expression didn’t change as I stepped in and shut the door behind me.

Kane’s eyes zeroed in on me—steady and unblinking. “Nitro. What’s on your mind?”

“Jax found something on Jana.”

That got both their attention. Kane’s brow arched, and Edge’s knife paused mid-flip.

I explained about Jax running the background check, and the alias being clean, but the breadcrumb trail led straight to the Broken Skulls.

Jana’s father. Her half brother. The distance, the lack of contact, but the concealment all the same.

I added no filler and gave no excuses. Just the facts.

Silence stretched for a beat too long. Then Edge let out a low whistle, slow and mocking. “That’s a hell of a skeleton to drag into our garage.”

Kane’s eyes didn’t move off me. “How long have you known?”

“Just now,” I answered, steady. “Jax came to me first.”

“And you’re standing here instead of telling her to pack her shit.” Kane’s voice wasn’t accusing. It was testing.

“Because I don’t think she’s with them,” I growled. “Think she’s running from them. The way she flinches, the way she avoids MC men like they’re poison—doesn’t look like loyalty. Looks like survival.”

Edge flicked the knife shut and pointed it at me.

“Would explain why she’s so skittish…if it’s not because she’s feeling guilty for hiding shit.

” He smirked. “Also why she looks at you like you might bite but half wants you to?” Then his expression sobered, his eyes going hard.

“Question is, Nitro, you hiding her from us or you hiding us from her?”

I shot him a look sharp enough to cut steel. “Neither. I’m trying to give her a chance to breathe before this blows up in her face.”

“And if you’re wrong?” Kane’s question cut deep, not cruel but merciless. He couldn’t afford compassion, not with club business.

I didn’t flinch, though the words lit a fuse in my gut. “Then I’ll handle it.”

Edge arched a brow. “If she’s not running? If she’s working an angle?”

My jaw clenched. I didn’t want to picture it, but I forced myself to. “I said, I’ll handle it.”

Edge’s mouth curved in that crooked line of his. “Handle it, huh? You planning to string her up yourself if she turns out dirty?”

“Don’t think I’ll have to,” I grunted. “My gut says this is why she’s so slow to trust anyone. Why does she keep herself locked down? She’s been burned by MC blood before.”

Kane leaned back in his chair, studying me. His green eyes were calm, calculating, weighing more than my words—my conviction, my edge, maybe even the pulse pounding at my throat. “You want time.”

“Yes. She’s softening. Slowly. If I push, she’ll panic.”

Kane’s voice was rough. “You're asking me to sit on Broken Skulls intel? That’s not a light ask, Nitro.”

I braced my hands on the back of the empty chair opposite Edge.

“Not saying bury it. I’m saying hold it for two days.

Let me see if she trusts me enough to come clean on her own.

I want it to be her choice, not a corner we forced her into.

” My fingers clenched. “If she’s running from them, forcing it might send her straight back into the dark.

And I’m not losing her to those bastards. ”

Kane’s silence was heavier than a gavel. “And if she’s concealing for another reason?”

I didn’t have an answer that would make sense to them. The truth was brutal in its simplicity—I wasn’t letting her go. Not even if her past came wrapped in Skull colors. My silence stretched too long.

Kane saw it. He always did.

His gaze sharpened. “This isn’t just personal shit, Nitro. Broken Skulls makes its club business the second their name’s in the mix.”

“I know,” I admitted, my throat tight. “But I’m telling you, this is different. Give me two days. If she doesn’t talk, I’ll lay it out myself.”

Edge smirked. “You hear that, Kane? Our boy here’s volunteering to take a Broken Skull-shaped bullet for his new flame.”

Kane shot a look at Edge that clearly told him to shut the fuck up. To me, he asked, “You trust your gut?”

“Always.”

He studied me with that leader’s patience that had made men twice my size fold. “You tell me this is serious—the kind of serious where I order a vest the second you walk out of this office—then I’ll give you two days.”

I didn’t blink. “Make the call.”

Edge let out a rough laugh. “Shit! Didn’t even hesitate. Thought he might at least pretend he wasn’t balls deep already.”

I turned the full weight of my stare on him. “Keep talking, Edge. See how fast I wire your bike to fart glitter next race day.”

His grin went wolfish. “Do it. Be the most amazing explosion you've ever made. Just remember, people’ll be wondering why you’re playing with unicorn shit, not why it came outta my ride.”

Even Kane’s mouth twitched at that one. But then his gaze cut back to me—hard. “Two days. That’s it. After that, if she hasn’t told you herself, I put it on the table. Understood?”

“Understood.”

Kane’s expression didn’t change, but something in the room shifted. Weight rebalanced, decisions made.

“Good.” He leaned back, arms still folded. “Now get the fuck out of my office before Edge starts telling me about the raccoon again.”

Edge smirked. “Still my favorite story.”

“Then go tell it to Drift,” Kane ordered, his tone making it clear the meeting was over.

I pushed off the chair, heat buzzing under my skin. The crooked smile broke through this time, sharp as a fuse wire. “You boys better get used to her. She’s not going anywhere.”

Edge called after me as I stalked out. “Neither are the Skulls, brother. Keep your head on a swivel.”

I turned on my heel, heat burning under my skin as I strode toward the door. Then I paused and looked back over my shoulder.

“Not a bullet, Edge,” I growled low. “A fucking warhead. I’ll take it head-on if it means keeping her safe.”

Kane exhaled slowly through his nose. He didn’t smile, but there was something like respect in the weight of his stare as he reached for his phone.

It occurred to me that maybe he understood more than I realized. If it were Savannah involved in this shit, he’d move heaven and earth to make sure she was safe.

Without another word, I nodded at them and stalked out.

If Jana Jennings thought she could keep running, she was about to learn that I didn’t chase unless I planned to catch. And whatever I caught, I fucking kept.