One year ago...

The Liquid Lounge was going to kill Jaxon Wilson. At least, that’s what it felt like. And he, of all people, knew what death looked like. He’d stared it in the eyes and said, not today, asshole.

Yeah, days like today, Jaxon regretted putting up that fight.

His back throbbed and his shoulder ached, after spending the last six hours on his feet. His doctors were going to chew his ass. He wasn’t cleared to go back to any kind of physical work, but it wasn’t as though Jaxon had other options. His only asset was himself. His bank account, once flush with prize money, was just about done for.

A lot like his mixed martial arts career.

He peered at the clock.

Five more minutes. Then he could go home, lay on a heating pad, pop some pills, and stare at the ceiling. He’d already sold his TV and game systems. Next up would be the furniture. The BMW was always an option, but without a ride, he couldn’t get to his job or physical therapy. As much as he didn’t want to pay for it, he needed it.

Three more minutes.

He sucked in a deep breath that sent invisible knives slashing between his ribs.

Yeah, those tissues sure as hell weren’t healed well enough.

“Hey, Wilson.”

No, no, no.

Two minutes.

Two damn minutes.

“Yeah, boss?” Jaxon crossed his hands in front of him and focused on maintaining a bored expression.

“I need someone on the bar. Think you could fill in for a few hours?”

Jaxon gritted his teeth.

He hurt. He needed to go home, take a load off, pop a few pain killers and rest. It wasn’t something a guy who’d once been the lightweight mixed martial arts champion for two years running liked to admit. Once, he’d been unstoppable. That was before getting his spine cracked and arm nearly ripped out of his socket. These days, he just wanted to make it to the end of his shifts. He could stand, walk and even jog, on good days. Too bad today wasn’t one of the good ones, but he needed the money.

After he got off work, he’d take two pills. Over the counter. Nothing fancy, just something to help the swelling. And maybe he’d have a beer while he served.

“Sure, boss.” Jaxon gestured to the door. This late, there weren’t many people waiting to get in. “Should I—”

“Now, before that line gets any longer.”

Jaxon nodded, and set his eyes on the bar. He took a deep breath and braced himself.

That first step after standing for so long was a doozey.

He forced his right foot forward.

What felt like a white-hot poker speared him in the back, which was actually better than it had been. Used to be, he’d take a step and it would hurt so bad his vision would blur and his lungs would stop working. He was improving, but it was hard to remember that, when something so easy as walking across a floor hurt like hell.

Jaxon made it across the club to the small, side bar. The boss wouldn’t put him on the main one. Not after that first night. Most people ignored him as a bouncer. He was part of the scenery, nothing remarkable. But something about being at the bar, the lights in his face and talking to people, made the clubbers look at him.

And remember.

He’d seen his accident on loop a hundred times over. It was grotesque and fascinating, what the human body could endure.

Jaxon stepped up to the bar, focusing on a cluster of pretty girls and taking their order first. A few smiles, some compliments, and the tips would roll in. He was aware of his looks, that women found him attractive, but he didn’t have to like cashing in on his genetics. Still, if it meant being able to eat something other than the dollar menu, he’d smile and flirt through the throbbing in his shoulders.

“Hey, aren’t you that fighter guy?” A man leaned past the trio of women Jaxon was lining up shots for.

“There you are, ladies. Congratulations on your freedom.” He smiled and nudged the shots across the chrome bar.

“Hey—you are, aren’t you?” The man batted at Jaxon’s forearm.

“Can I get you something, man?” He braced his hands on the bar, subtly stretching out the tight muscles along his spine.

“It is you.” The guy’s eyes widened. His pupils were expanded and excessive sweat lined his brow. The guy was on something.

Great.

Jaxon turned to the next patron, but the guy reached across and grabbed Jaxon by the wrist.

“I’ve got to know, dude—”

“Buddy, I don’t know who you think I am, but you’ve got five seconds to take your hand off me.” Jaxon stared at the man and prayed for a reason to punch him.

“You should be dead, man.” The too-high guy grinned.

Jaxon pulled his arm back, jerking out of the guy’s grasp. Something twinged in his back, in a very not-good way. He winced and his vision went a tad bit blurry.

He signaled to the other two bartenders.

Fuck this. He hadn’t had a god damn break since three hours ago.

Jaxon grasped the counter and slowly made his way toward the door leading to the back. Every step sent hot fire shooting up his spine. Each breath was shorter, shallower than the last.

He might not make it.

The door was all of two feet away, and he might collapse right here.

Someone bumped into him. His hip hit the counter and he winced, his too-tight muscles protesting the unexpected movement.

“I am so sorry,” a soft voice said.

“It’s okay.”

He would not be taken down with an audience.

He grabbed the door and pulled it open, holding it for the woman with the pale, blonde hair holding a hand to her mouth.

That was common body language for something’s very wrong.

Jaxon ushered the woman into the storage area and break room. At this hour, everyone was out working the floor, so it was just them.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Nothing, I’m sorry.” She slid her hands down her hips, her gaze on the floor.

Something was wrong, but she wasn’t going to confide in him. A stranger.

“You’re the new girl?” He took a few steps to the card table and sat down, doing his best not to wince.

“Yes, sorry. I’m Freya.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Freya.” He spread his hands and mustered a smile for her. “I’m Jax, by the way.”

“I know.”

“Ouch. They already tell you about me.” He shook his head. Crap. What were the others saying?

“No, I was there earlier when you took that guy outside.”

“Oh.”

Shit.

He’d already gotten his ass chewed out for that. No club owner wanted to have a reputation for the patrons being manhandled by staff. Jaxon had watched the guy though. For two hours he’d yelled at, grabbed and pulled this poor girl around the club, and when he’d hit her, disguising it as a fist pump, Jaxon had come unglued.

It wasn’t his proudest moment, but he wasn’t going to apologize for it either. If that guy wanted to hit someone, it should be someone who could put up a fair fight.

“What’s that look for?” Freya stood there, arms crossed over her chest, staring at him.

“Here’s hoping that doesn’t cost me my job.” It’d felt good though.

“Fired? What? No.” Freya slid into the seat adjacent to him and leaned forward. “The key to a hot bar is getting the women to come. Where the ladies are, the men follow. Women don’t feel comfortable someplace they might be in danger. That—tonight—that’s marketing gold if they spin it the right way.”

“What?” Jaxon shook his head and laughed. “What are you smoking?”

“Nothing, sadly.” She propped her chin on her hand.

He hadn’t seen her earlier, probably because he’d been focused on the trouble maker. But now that he’d laid eyes on Freya, there was no forgetting her. At a glance, she could be another of the dozen or so curvy blonde women on the dance floor. This close though, there was intelligence behind those dark brown eyes of hers. She was older than he’d first pegged her for, which was unusual. Typical promoter girls were under twenty-four. If she was younger than twenty-six he’d eat his hat.

They sat there, neither speaking, just looking at the other.

Jaxon had a hard and fast rule, no dating the club girls.

They were too young, and he’d never want to keep up with them.

But Freya...was different.

Too bad he didn’t have anything to offer a woman besides himself. He was one step above rock bottom. He had no money. No future. No plans. Pursuing anyone, especially the new looker at work, was a bad idea. Still, the way she was staring at him sparked ideas that were hard to ignore.

“I haven’t seen you around here before. First night?” he asked.

“Second, actually.” She glanced away, lines creasing her brow. Her smile was screwed on tight, but it was obviously forced.

“Something wrong?” He shouldn’t ask. He had enough problems of his own without inviting more. But...there was this cloud of sadness forming around her.

“Nothing time won’t heal.” Her smile took on a warmer tone, but only for a moment.

Freya was not a typical club girl. She was...different. Her dress wasn’t cheap, either. Those were some designer threads. At some point, he was willing to bet she’d had money. And now here they both were, down on their luck, doing what had to be done.

Jaxon leaned to his left, opening the small cooler of staff drinks, and pulled out a small bottle of tuaca.

“In my experience, time and a few shots usually do the trick.” He grabbed two plastic cups and poured a bit of the liquor for them both.

Freya lifted the cup, closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of the vanilla flavored drink. The corners of her mouth turned up, and for a moment the cloud of sadness cleared.

“To a happier future,” she said.

“I’ll drink to that.”

He tapped his cup to hers and tossed the liquor back.

Present Day

Jaxon hadn’t slept in over a month. He could feel the tension wearing on him, knew he needed to trust the authorities to find her, but how could he? In the six or so weeks since Freya’s disappearance, the cops, FBI, and Secret Service hadn’t found jack shit about where she might be. What hope did Jaxon, a bouncer, sometimes bartender, and washed up fighter stand of locating her when the professionals couldn’t?

Even now it was eating him up inside. He couldn’t think about anything else. Not work. Class. Missing his cousin’s cook-out.

Jaxon couldn’t give up hope. Not when he could so clearly remember the way her dark brown eyes had sparkled the night he’d finally manned up and asked her out.

Freya was gone. Kidnapped out from under his nose. And it was his fault.

It’d been his responsibility to watch the house where Kade’s girl, Shelby, was being held prisoner. They’d known Freya was inside, that she’d been kidnapped along with dozens of others to act as a backdrop to the nightmare playing out center stage. But Jaxon had hung back to be the lookout and keep tabs on their informant. Someone had to. And the others had guns.

All Jaxon had was his fists. He’d never needed a gun before.

If he could just go back, maybe it would all be different.

He kept replaying those moments in his head.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off the place for a moment, because he knew what was at stake. That Freya was inside. And she’d still vanished without a trace. Had he glanced away? Blinked for too long?

“What’s got you so worked up, love?” Aunt Liv placed a hand on his shoulder. She wasn’t Jaxon’s aunt, but she treated the pub regulars like family. Hell, she probably liked Jaxon better than most of his family did.

“Nothing. Just, waiting.” Jaxon couldn’t give up hope. As far as he was concerned, Freya was still out there, and he was done playing by the rules to find her. It was time for Jaxon to do what he did best, and fight for her.

Aunt Liv frowned. Her too-perceptive gaze recognized his lie, and they both knew it.

He couldn’t blurt out what he’d discovered. He couldn’t tell Liv that he might know where Freya was when the feds didn’t, that he was going to break her out. Tonight. He didn’t care what skulls he had to break to do it, he was going to bring her home.

“Whatever you’re doing, you don’t have to do it alone.” Aunt Liv squeezed his arm. Her rolling, melodic manner of speaking comforted him.

“I’m not doing anything.” Jaxon mustered a smile. At least not yet. There were a few hours to kill still. And he wasn’t acting alone. This was the kind of thing he couldn’t do on his own, as much as it pained him to admit.

It just so happened he knew a guy with a direct line to the man who’d kidnapped Freya.

Yuri Gabor.

The man Jaxon wouldn’t hesitate to pummel into the ground.

The pub doors opened, and a dark-haired guy with too-tanned skin stepped in, pausing to shake the water off his coat.

“Excuse me, Aunt Liv.” Jaxon side-stepped the blonde woman and made straight for the newcomer.

Zach eyed Jaxon with the wary manner he’d reserved for strangers up until a few weeks ago.

Jaxon didn’t know where his friendship with Zach stood. Once, Jaxon had thought he knew all about Zach’s past and who he was. Even the ugly bits many people would hate him for. Lately, Jaxon had begun to wonder if he ever truly knew Zach.

“Hey.” Zach gestured at the end of the long, communal table in the middle of Trinity Hall. Most of the time their ragtag group of guys occupied some corner of it. “Let’s sit.”

“You learn anything else? I’ve got to go in soon.” Jaxon pitched his voice low.

“Everyone’s going to know something is up if you don’t calm down.” Zach set his laptop bag down on the table.

Zach waved at Erik behind the bar and paused to give Aunt Liv a hug. She cast Jaxon a knowing glare over Zach’s shoulder. Still, she had no idea what they were up to. Did she? He hoped not.

Jaxon did his best to wait patiently. He couldn’t shake the feeling that every moment mattered.

How could Zach pretend Freya’s life wasn’t on the line this very instant?

“Dude. Chill. Sit.” Zach slid onto a stool and opened his laptop.

“Sorry, it’s just...”

“I get it.” Zach grimaced.

That was what sucked about this. Out of all the guys, and their wide range of experiences, Zach was the one who’d experienced something similar. And because of that, Jaxon couldn’t quite bring himself to trust Zach. How could he?

“I was able to access the Senator’s email and phone records.” Zach said it as flippantly as though he’d just remembered to reorder his cat litter.

“What?” Jaxon gaped at the other man.

“Chill. Out.” Zach said again. “The Senator hasn’t received anything I can identify as a ransom demand for Freya. If our FBI friend is to be believed, the Secret Service are being more helpful in forking over information about Freya than her own dad. Makes me wonder if he doesn’t care, or if someone’s already gotten to him.”

“If they wanted money for Freya, why wait this long? It’s been six weeks.” That was what Jaxon couldn’t wrap his head around.

“Yuri Gabor is a professional. First class. Now, normally, yeah, you’re looking at a planned kidnapping and ransom demand within twenty-four hours. The kind of people who make their livings extorting victim’s families, turn and burn them fast. But that’s not Yuri’s business. That’s not what he does.” Zach typed away at his laptop while he spoke.

Jaxon stared at the side of his friend’s head.

Who was he?

Two months ago, he had been just another guy with skeletons in his closet. Jaxon had known about Zach’s secrets and accepted them. But Jaxon had only known the beginning of the story.

“What, man?” Zach folded his hands together and leveled his dark gaze at Jaxon.

“Just trying to figure you out.”

“And that’s supposed to mean...?”

“I thought I knew you.”

“Jax, I told you. I did a lot of stuff I’m not proud of in the name of getting my sister and I away from our family. I worked with bad people. The worst. But it got Tali free. I’d do it again.” The muscle at Zach’s jaw twitched. “What do you want to know? What’s bothering you?”

“All of it. I don’t get any of it.” Jaxon shook his head.

“What don’t you get?” Zach pivoted to face Jaxon, his dark eyes gone black. “My uncle planned on raping my fifteen-year-old sister so he could force her to marry him. No one cared because she was a woman and in our culture, that meant what she wanted didn’t matter. How was I supposed to be okay with that? What should I have done, Jax? Tell me. Because every day I ask myself: was there another way? Something that wouldn’t mean Tali and I would have to live looking over our shoulders?”

“It just...it’s not right.”

“No, it’s not.”

“There should have been another way.”

“There wasn’t. So, I made a deal with the devil to get us out of there. I will never regret that I did it. How can I? Every time I look at how happy Tali is, her kids, I think—it was worth it. All of it. Because she has the choice. No one forces Tali to do anything. No one hurts her. That doesn’t mean bad people don’t exist, Jax, it just means we get to fight back.”

“Are you putting Tali in danger helping me?” Jaxon had assumed that the threat to Zach and his sister was over with, but maybe he’d been wrong.

“Not if I’m careful, and I am very careful.”

Jaxon stared at Zach, who didn’t look away.

They were the world’s most opposite people, and yet Zach was the one putting it on the line for Jaxon. Because he got it. He’d been there. The least Jaxon could do was try to understand.

“Now, do you want to find Freya, or would you like me to break out pictures of my niece and nephew?” Zach flicked his fingers at the laptop.

He’d taken the knowledge of Zach’s illegal ties hard. It’d caused a rift between them these last few weeks that had left Jaxon confused and angry. He’d trusted the wrong people once, and it’d nearly set his life on a collision course with disaster. Was he making the same mistake with Zach?

Zach was a good guy. He’d given up a hell of a lot to live on the run and take care of his sister. He’d done what he’d had to, not to make a profit. To protect the ones he loved. Was that so different from what Jaxon was doing?

It wasn’t.

It was time Jaxon let that go.

Besides, Zach was his best friend.

They’d all done bad things, for good reasons.

“Sorry, man. This whole thing has me fucked up in the head.” Jaxon grimaced.

“I get that. I hope you know that...I wouldn’t have done what I’d done if there had been another way.”

“I believe you.”

Zach still had that wary glint in his eye. Trust was a two-way street.

“Show me what you’ve got on the Swan Palace.” Jaxon leaned his forearm on the table.

“Okay, here’s the blueprints.” Zach brought up a 3D image of the upscale, adult entertainment venue in downtown Seattle.

The old, brick building dated back to the 1920s. It’d been updated, remodeled and redone several times, which made getting an accurate picture of the inside difficult. And that was why Jaxon was the Swan Palace’s newest employee. He just didn’t want to go in blind. He needed a guide on where to look, because if his theory was correct, Freya was somewhere in that building.

“City records show they renovated the building from the ground up about three years ago, when the place rebranded into basically a strip club. Let’s just say, it was a hotly-contested re-zoning that got pushed through. Several city council members flipped their votes at the last second, despite their public statements. Here’s the interesting word on the street.” Zach zoomed into the second and third floors of the blueprints. “They had you stationed downstairs, right?”

“Yeah, front of house security.” Jaxon leaned closer. He’d known things were different. No strip club, however fancy, needed that much security. “How does this all trace back to Yuri?”

“It doesn’t. On paper. The club is owned by a company, that’s owned by a company, that’s owned by a company, that’s owned by a company. Ownership is buried in shell corporations. I tracked it back to Yuri through, well...it’s sort of like advertising on the dark web. That’s where I found out about this.” He tapped the second floor.

“There’s a separate side entrance. You can’t even get to the stairs without going into staff-only areas.” And though Jaxon had tried, even he’d been shooed away from the stairs leading up.

“The club downstairs where you worked is public but up here, for the right price, you can get a different kind of entertainment.” Zach sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, lips twisting into a grimace.

“Wait, you mean...?” Jaxon stared at Zach.

He knew a little bit about the man holding Freya prisoner. He was the worst kind of human being. There wasn’t anything off limits.

Was Freya being forced to...?

He couldn’t think it.

Couldn’t let himself.

Freya was a friend, a good person. She’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. This couldn’t happen to her.

“I don’t want to sugarcoat it and tell you she’s fine, Jax.”

“Yeah, I know.” Still, his chest went tight and he dug his nails into the wood grain of the table.

“Look at it this way, Freya is worth more alive and unhurt.”

“How do you figure that? How could you know?”

“Because one of my half-sisters was kidnapped and ransomed back once. The moment a girl like this—pretty, well-connected, noticeable—is taken, they stop being a person. They’re a commodity. Bruised fruit isn’t worth as much.”

“You think they’re—what? Selling her?”

“I don’t know what Yuri wants with Freya, but unless he’s communicating with Senator Thorburn through analog channels I’m not seeing, I think she’s alive. And relatively unhurt. There’s more. Your girl and her sister—did you know she had a sister?”

“Yeah.”

“They stand to inherit a large sum of money from their mother, though their dad is trying to tie it up in court. Could be Yuri wants that money. Everyone could use another dollar in their pocket.”

“Yuri could ransom Freya to herself?”

“It wouldn’t be the craziest thing I’ve heard of. Now, based on what I found, it’s safe to assume the second floor of the Swan Palace is basically a white-collar brothel. You’ve got your regular working girls, but you’ve also got people like Madam Slappy, who has a rather impressive website, but no listed address. I pinged her phone and for the last four nights, it’s been at the Swan Palace. But you need to get your ass upstairs and off floor duty, because there’s more.” Zach zoomed in on what appeared to be an apartment at the very top of the building. “This is the Queen’s Nest. It’s...sort of a high-roller VIP area, but looking at their website, it’s been off the market for a while. If I had to guess? This is where she’s at.”

Jaxon nodded and scrubbed a hand across his face while he struggled to process the information.

At least she was still in Seattle, and not out of the country. He could fix this. If he could find her, he could spring her himself or bring the feds in. One way or another, he was bringing her home.

“You know Kade and the others would help you?” Zach gestured at the screen. “Shelby has been asking the same questions you are, she just hasn’t been asking me.”

“We don’t know that Freya’s there, and we don’t know that I’ll need help.” Jaxon checked the time. Kade was barely back on his feet. Telling Shelby meant dragging Kade into something he likely wasn’t ready for. Jaxon couldn’t do that without proof. Something concrete.

“Jax...”

“Relax. I’m just another bouncer at the club, keeping guys off the girls. I’m practically invisible. And until we know if Freya is there...there’s no point in telling the others.” Jaxon slapped Zach on the shoulder. “See you later.”

Jaxon turned and walked toward the door. He could feel Zach’s eyes on him, and he understood his friend’s concern. But Yuri Gabor had eluded law enforcement for decades. Jaxon didn’t want to get his hopes up.

Once Jaxon knew if she were or weren’t there, they could do something about it. There’d be some uncomfortable questions about how they’d discovered the information, but they’d have to cross that bridge later. Accessing the dark net wasn’t necessarily illegal, but who knew what Zach had had to do to get the intel he’d gathered? In the end, all Jaxon knew was that Zach was taking a big risk by helping him.

Jaxon slid behind the wheel of his car. Coffee was the first order of business. The summer term was coming to a close and he had finals fast approaching. This close to graduating, he couldn’t fuck things up, but he couldn’t turn his back on Freya either.

What if he was the only one still looking for her?

He could still remember the night he’d met her. They’d toasted to better days during one of the worst chapters of his life. She’d inspired him, motivated him to be better.

He hit the road, heading into the heart of Seattle.

She’d been this beautiful, fresh breath of air. So out of place in the clubbing scene. They’d naturally gravitated toward each other, being the older people on staff.

Jaxon had always wondered what her story was. Why a woman who was so obviously well-educated, intelligent, and beautiful was plying her skills to bring the hottest, most fashionable people to a club to do nothing more than drink, rub up on each other and maybe get laid. But it wasn’t like he’d been in a position to ask her out, to discover more about her. It’d taken every penny Jaxon had to pay his hospital bills, the post-op care and square away the apartment he’d had to sublet. In the end, it left him with less than nothing.

He’d always known his fame could be short lived, that once he fell from the spotlight, it would be an unforgiving fall from grace. But nothing could have prepared him for this. The fans, his team, all the friends he’d made, the people who’d been there when he was king of the octagon, were nowhere to be found these days.

Fuck’em.

Jaxon didn’t need those people or that life anymore. He had a plan now. One he should have worked on long before, but he’d been too young and stupid to know better. Now he did and he wasn’t giving up this life without a fight.

He pulled into the small, employee parking lot behind the Swan Palace and shrugged into his white, button-down shirt.

The manager had stressed the dress code. So, Jaxon switched out his shoes to shiny loafers he’d borrowed from his cousin, Andre, and shrugged into a suit jacket.

The name of the game was flying under the radar. As a bouncer, he should be part of the backdrop. That would allow him to poke around and see what was really going on upstairs, without raising too much suspicion.

He jogged from his car to the employee entrance, digging out his key card.

Eight months ago, he couldn’t so much as power walk. He’d come a long way in the last year, in part due to Freya’s encouragement. She’d made a difference in his life.

He swiped his badge and stepped into the club.

Music serenaded from the front of house and dishes clanged in the kitchen.

Just another normal night in the service industry. At least that’s what it appeared to be.

Somehow, he needed to get his ass assigned to the upper floors. How he was going to do that was beyond him.

Jaxon clocked in at the back office, almost half an hour early.

Servers for the VIP areas bustled back and forth. He stepped back and frowned. Something was off. There was a different vibe going on. People weren’t meeting his gaze, most of the servers were looking at the ground. Had something happened? Had shit hit the fan already? From the looks of it, people were ready to duck.

Jaxon hovered in the entry. Listening. Watching.

He was in over his head. That much he knew. But if he didn’t do this, if he didn’t look for Freya, who else would?

Maybe Zach was right and he should ask the others, the professionals, for help. But they had their own lives and jobs.

Thomas, the club manager, stepped out of the offices on the left and glanced at him. A wrinkle creased the man’s brow.

Shit.

The one person he’d wanted to avoid.

Jaxon swallowed.

“Wilson. Come here,” the man barked. Deep lines bracketed his mouth.

“Yes, sir?” Jaxon kept his tone polite, calm. So much for flying under the radar. His boss knew his name on sight.

“You clocked in, yet?”

“Yes, sorry. I just realized how early I was.”

“Never mind.” Thomas waved Jaxon into the office and pinned him with a stare layered in subtext. “I need someone I can trust, someone who can be discreet.”

Well, damn. That could mean any number of things.

“What do you need?” Jaxon tilted his head. It wouldn’t do to appear too eager to gain the man’s trust.

“We have...a more exclusive VIP area. Are you aware of that?”

“I heard someone mention it, but my job is front of the house.” Jaxon shrugged. Anyone who worked as a bouncer for long learned pretty quick not to ask questions. There was always a back room.

“I need another man on hand, and I need to know I can trust you to look the other way.”

“If that’s what you’re paying me to do, that’s what I’ll do.”

“You’ll have to sign an NDA. Some of our guests require privacy, you understand?”

“I do, sir.” He was unfortunately well-versed in exactly what Yuri Gabor pedaled.

“Good.” Thomas scrubbed his hand over his face. “It’s damn hard to get good help. Too many of these young guys like to run their mouths.”

“They learn, or they face the consequences. Am I right?” Jaxon shook his head.

“Exactly. Here, sign this, and then I’ll have one of the guys show you the private entrance.” Thomas unlocked a drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper.

Talk about right time, right place.

Maybe this was Jaxon’s lucky day.

Freya was close. He could feel it.