Page 48 of Ignite

Jazz imagined it would only be a matter of hours before they figured out their money was gone. If anyone in the Slaggers MC had some computer skills, they might be able to trace the dummy accounts, but they would all lead to James. Any other suspicions would drop when they found out the money had vanished.

Freya jumped on her lap and butted her head against Jazz’s chin.

“Yeah, just give it a little time. Our friendly neighborhood Ramrod is going to be in a world of hurt soon. He’ll be lucky if his own gang doesn’t get him before the police do.”

Something else bothered her about this mess. The Slaggers were pretty much done after everything played through, but what was the bigger picture behind them? If she expanded the margins, was there more to find?

Jazz took a breath and reminded herself that she was sitting in her own house, in front of her own computer with Freya purring away on her lap. She was well hidden to the point of being virtually invisible on the net. Still, fear crept into her brain as she dove deep into the dark unknown.

What she found terrified her.

Data poured over the screen. Dates and times of deliveries, routes and modes of transportation, countries of origin and of receiving, distribution centers, and more. The longer she explored this network, the more information she found about this gigantic intricate web. Even worse was the contents. Whoever owned this massive machine dealt with more than just drugs. Arms deals appeared, and they apparently sold to both opposing sides. The main financing for this operation? A plethora of large-scale call centers that kept the money flowing.

“Holy shit!” she said aloud, and Freya stopped her purring and opened one yellow eye for a moment to glare at her. Whoever was in charge of this network had some serious computer skills.

Tears came to Jazz’s eyes. She dashed them away as she noted that she’d been at this cyber deep dive for close to four hours. She thought about releasing her custom virus and letting it wreak havoc on this system, but she remembered Copperpot’s warning about potential ramifications.

This was too big for her to take on by herself. Maybe even too big for all the scam-shielders if they tried together. Should this go to the FBI? CIA? Interpol?

As much as she wished she could do something now, she needed answers. She tagged the site, then deleted and erased any trace of her existence in that network. As she exited, she saw a list of IP addresses and recognized one of them. The remnants of the giant scammer site she took down was in this network, and someone was rebuilding it.

She had to talk to Copperpot.

Once out of the dark web, she tried to contact the mentor and friend she had never met. Usually he would answer quickly. This time, he was silent.

A sick sensation bloomed in her belly. Something was wrong.

28

The strip clubwas wild tonight. Almost frantic. Perhaps it was just the antsy buzz that sat in Wolf’s gut like a lead weight. A few patrons had asked about Candie, but so far no one had complained. The newest girl, Sheila, made up for the missing headliner, and the enthusiasm showed in the collection of green bills hanging in a row from her G-string.

Quillon was there for a change, mostly because the two of them had to show a united front to the other club members—and, if needed, to the Slaggers. They stood close to the front door, continuously scanning the crowd for trouble.

“My gut says something’s about to go down, but I can’t put my finger on it.” Quillon had a knack for reading people. So far, nothing had sent up alarms, but his words belied his easy demeanor.

“I’m getting the same vibe, brother. Shit is about to hit the fan, and I wish I knew who was throwing it or which direction it’ll come from.”

Quillon grunted and nodded at Camshaft, who’d stationed himself on the other side. “Any blowback from the Candie thing?”

“Nothing so far. Kinda strange. I expected her to come blustering in by now and offer to blow Scrap to get her job back.”

“She might as well suck off a stone statue. Scrap has nothing to do with women. Any woman.”

“Why is that?”

Quillon scratched his chin. “Wife left him before his accident. Rumor is, she took off for some guy she met online. Baghouse said she tried to come back once, and Scrap threw her out. Said she ended up in Florida of all places. He won’t talk about it or speak her name. You already know Scrap is one of the bitterest human beings on this planet. He cares for no one, and that’s getting more and more apparent by how he treats this club.”

Wolf glanced over the row of men and thought about Quillon’s insight. It explained a lot, but it was no excuse for the half-hearted leadership. He was convinced they were on the right path in seeking a new president. Part of him wanted Quillon to fill that role. The other part wanted to do it himself.

“I know what you’re thinking, brother,” Quillon stated. “Let me tell you straight, I do not have the time nor the energy to turn this club around. I can help, but I can’t lead. We’ve been talking a lot, and I had a personal conversation with Scrap. We’ll take a formal vote soon, but for all intents and purposes, you’re in the hot seat now. You tell me what you need from me and you’ll have it.”

An invisible weight landed on Wolf’s shoulders. The responsibility of leading and rebuilding this club intimidated him, but someone had to step up. He guessed that someone was him.

“Through the fires of hell, men of steel are forged.”

Time to ignite the furnace.

Sheila finished her set and bounced off the stage, her fake double-D’s having a party all to themselves. Wolf grinned in amusement as he saw Camshaft shift his junk from one side of his jeans to the other. The younger man had always been vigilant when he came to his security job, but it was a nice distraction to see his human reaction to a great pair of tits.

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