Page 14 of Nitro
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 youlike 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.”
