Chapter 3 - Unwelcome Visitors
The heavy diesel engine of the black SUV idled loudly outside the barn, its high-beams flooding the dusty interior with blinding white light.
Maeve froze, the cold metal of the socket wrench slipping from her fingers and clattering against the concrete floor.
"Who the hell is that?" Cole muttered, his hand instantly dropping to the heavy hunting knife sheathed at his belt as the other bikers formed a protective semicircle around Jax and the vintage bike.
Jax didn't blink.
He motioned for everyone to stay silent, his eyes locked on the vehicle's tinted driver-side window.
"Nobody move," Jax warned in a low, gravelly whisper.
"If they wanted to shoot up the place, they would've done it from the road. They're looking for something specific."
The driver's door creaked open, and a tall man in a sharp charcoal suit stepped out into the gravel.
He didn't look like a local debt collector or a rival biker; his posture was rigid, professional, and entirely out of place in a rundown rural salvage yard.
He adjusted his tie, scanned the gathering of leather vests with complete indifference, and walked straight toward the open barn doors.
"Afternoon, gentlemen. And young lady," the man said smoothly, his voice carrying an icy, corporate polish that made Maeve's stomach churn.
"I'm looking for a particular leather-bound ledger. Belonged to a late local resident named Arthur Vance. I believe you're holding it."
Maeve instinctively took a half-step backward, her hand brushing against the blue fender of her father's unfinished motorcycle.
"You have no business here," she said, her voice shaking slightly despite her best efforts to sound brave.
"This is private property. Get off our land."
The suit ignored her entirely, fixing his cold gaze on Jax.
"You must be Jax Miller," the man continued, offering a tight, humorless smile.
"Your old partner left quite a mess behind when he skipped town two decades ago with our intellectual property. My employers bought the patent rights out of bankruptcy court last week. That notebook contains proprietary designs that legally belong to Apex Industries."
Jax slowly stepped in front of Maeve, shielding her from the man's calculating stare.
"Apex Industries?" Jax let out a harsh, dry laugh.
"That outfit went under in ninety-eight after you swindled half the investors in the state. My partner didn't steal a patent; he saved his life's work from a bunch of corporate thieves."
The suit's smile vanished instantly, his eyes narrowing into thin slits.
"You can hand over the book peacefully, Mr. Miller, or we can involve local law enforcement and have every single person standing in this barn arrested for receiving stolen property."
Cole took a threatening step forward, his fists clenched at his sides.
"Try it, suit. Let's see who the cops haul away first."
"Wait," Maeve interrupted, her heart pounding against her ribs as she reached behind Jax and grabbed the leather notebook off the workbench.
She held it up, her fingers trembling against the cracked binding.
"If you want this back so badly," she whispered fiercely, "you're going to have to tell me why my father was really running from you before he died."
The suit's expression darkened, and slowly, a sinister grin spread across his face as he reached inside his jacket.
"He wasn't running from us, my dear," the man replied, pulling out a folded piece of official stationery.
May you like
"He was working for us until his heart gave out."
---
