Page 89 of Claimed By the Bikers
“Just supply chain issues. Nothing that can’t be handled.”
“What kind of supply chain issues require you to drive somewhere personally?”
He studies my face. “The Denver contact came through ahead of schedule. That specialized medical equipment we’ve been waiting for just showed up at the Mountain View facility.”
Mountain View. I’ve heard them mention it, but I’ve never been there. It’s one of their storage locations, I assume, though Atlas keeps the details of their network compartmentalized for security reasons.
“The dialysis machines?” I remember hearing them discuss expensive equipment that would help kidney patients who can’t afford regular treatment.
“Among other things. The timing’s unexpected, which means we need to verify everything personally before it gets distributed.”
“All three of you?”
“High-value equipment requires multiple authorizations. Plus, if there’s a problem with the shipment, we need to handle it immediately before word gets out that we’re moving this kind of inventory.”
Garrett appears from the dining room. Silas follows a moment later, wiping metal polish off his hands with a rag.
“Is there a problem?” Garrett asks.
“Denver delivery showed up early. We need to get to Mountain View and verify the shipment before anyone else gets involved.”
“I’ll come with you,” I say.
Atlas’s immediate headshake is predictable. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not? I’m part of this family, part of this operation. If you need all three of you there, having backup makes sense.”
“You’re pregnant.”
“I’m also the best shot in this building.” I cross my arms, settling into the stubborn posture that usually wins these arguments. “Plus, if someone’s targeting us, staying here alone makes me a sitting duck.”
“The facility is more secure than the compound,” Silas points out. “It’s not a known location.”
Garrett nods slowly. “If someone wanted to hit her specifically, they’d expect her to be here, not at a warehouse twenty miles away.”
“Fine. But you stay close, you follow orders, and if anything feels wrong, you get to safety first.”
“Understood.”
We get ready quickly. Atlas assigns Finn to handle the restaurant during our absence, a conversation that takes place near the kitchen pass-through, where I’m helping Lizzy reset the tables.
“Finn!” Atlas calls out. “We’re headed to Mountain View to check on a delivery. Hold down the fort until we get back.”
“Sure thing, boss,” Finn replies, looking up from prep work. “Everything okay?”
“Just unexpected timing on some equipment. We’ll be back by lunch.”
“Take your time. I’ve got everything handled here.”
The drive to Mountain View takes us through back roads I’ve never traveled, deeper into wilderness that feels untouched by development. Atlas drives with focused attention, checking mirrors frequently, while Garrett and Silas maintain casual conversation that doesn’t quite hide their alertness.
Twenty miles from Wolf Pike, the landscape opens up into a natural valley, hidden from the main road by a dense pine forest. The warehouse sits at the bottom like a secret, accessible only through a private drive that winds down the hillside.
From the outside, it looks unremarkable. Standard industrial building, metal siding, the kind of structure that wouldn’t attract attention from casual observers.
Inside tells a different story.
Row after row of medical equipment in various stages of processing and distribution. Wheelchairs, oxygen concentrators, and prescription medications sorted by condition and dosage.
