hne

itimate trucking and custom-bike front that funded the club's weapons and m

screen: "Fifty million wired to your black card. Starline fleets are on standby. Find out

k into my pocket and pushed o

f the club girls who poured drinks and warmed beds without ever earning a permanent claim or a line in the

ed a stack of greasy clipboards onto the metal desk. "Surviving one night at the h

ment?" I asked, i

a red skull and slapped it against my chest. "Bay Two. You're prepping an

e wall and speak only when spoken to-sucked in collective breaths. One whispered that Emmanuel was a hot-headed Patched Member,

rvation deck, I caught the faint scent of cedar and whiskey. Darrell wa

ss the grease-stained concrete, and sho

arley painted with silver-white flames. A muscular young man covered in ink stood shirtl

touches my carburetor gets his neck snapped!" Emm

oil into the light, the heavy wrench slipped

s ambush had left him with shattered ribs and a punctured lung. I had stitched him up and rebuilt his wrecked eng

throat bobbed, his knee

c. "Mr. Hurley, I'm the new dispatch assistant assigne

ike a drilled recruit, his chest heav

seconds flat. The high-speed engine resonance that had stumped the club's mechanics was coming from an uneven

ared to life with a s

. Down on the floor, the club's most violent star rider was trotting behind me li

the gloves onto the bench. "Try not to

d loud enough for the whole shop to hear, "Miss Daphne, you're riding