Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Present Day - Helena – age 25

"Was there a problem?"Sergei asked from the desk where he sat at his laptop, presumably working through shared spreadsheets, but I hesitated to presume.

I had been stopped on the same worksheet for the last twenty minutes as I connected the dots. Sergei had noticed that my work had slowed down and was already moving his large bulk from behind the desk.

He was the lead supervisor of this projectI had been pulledinto last month. Sergei was a scary-looking guy with a scar down his neck and blonde hair shaved in a buzz cut. Like most of the guys in the back office, I was pretty sure he was Russian.

"Why did you stop?" he demanded, his brows furrowed and his eyes piercing me with an icy glare as he leaned forward onto the desk with his scarred knuckles.

Shaking my head, I answered,"Sorry, just zoned out for a minute."I sent him the most dazzling fake smile possible.

"Wedon'tpay you to fucking zone out and think about shoes or your damn boyfriend," he growled, butthankfully, he sat heavily in the desk chair that squeaked under his weight."Suka,"he grumbled under his breath, which I was sure wasn't a compliment.

I took a deep breath, unaware I had been holding it and focused on my work again. Sergei was difficult to deal with, and being around made me uneasy. He didn't seem trustworthy.

I have worked at Concorde Financial for the last four years, and for the most part, it has beenan excellentjob. The accounting department was well-run, and my direct supervisor hadbeen replacedjust after I was hired by someone much more reasonable.

However,justlast month, a new department head came and asked accounting for two people for aparticularproject. My boss had looked a little shaken at the request, looking around the cubicles as he'd come out and pointed me and another colleague out. The projects we'd been working on were mundane accounts, nothing too out of the box, but when I'd been selected, itwasn'tlike we could say no. There was also a bit of ego involved, and I wish I'd been able to call my dad and brag a little. Right now, though, I wish I could call and talk things over with him.

I was confident that the new ‘department head,' Anton Makarovich, was someRussian criminal, which would be fine.Indeed, I had had plenty of linesIwas comfortable crossing in my previous life. It had never bothered me that my father and the MC ran guns or drugs. They might have thought they kept those things from me, but I knew plenty. Icertainly wouldn'thave had any moral high ground to stand on, but…I had started to notice some concerning patterns.

Focusing again on the computer in front of me, I returned to the accountsI was looking at and worked backward through the other screensI had pulled up, ensuring I looked busy.The very last thing I needed was for that oaf to come over to my station. Sergei glanced over a few times but seemed reabsorbedin whatever he had going on. The good thing about him was that he wanted to be here just about as much as I did, which was not at all.

My memory was excellent, and I had seen incoming payments just today for two hundred million, give or take.Just yesterday, Sergei had been on the phone talking to Makarovich andsaid an auction wouldmake two hundred.What sort of auction would they be having? My mind spun as I looked at the numbers and the accounts. Before I could change my mind and remind myself that I should mind my own business, I wrote down the account number and backtracked my search.

Staggered was putting it lightly. Billions of dollars, at least, were going through this account, all through these auctions. What the hell?

"I'mtaking my break,"I announced. Closing down the programs on mycomputer,I quickly stuffed the sticky note in my pocket and got up without looking at Sergei.

Suddenly, his hand was on my arm, so hard it was bruising in its grip."Idon'tthink you are. Sit the fuck down."Close up, he was even scarier and smelled like onions.

"You'reluckyyou'resmart,suka.Make sure you earn your money here, orwe'llhave you earn it elsewhere."His blue eyes bore into me, making me shrink under his stare. Giving me a shake, he pushed me back towards my chair so hard that I collapsed.

Damn it. The man was scary as hell. The other accountant, Julie,didn'teven bother to glance up at me. She had long since made me understand that there was no wayshe'dbe doing anything other than whatwas askedof her.

Once the clock hit five, I walked calmly, holding myself together by a thread.Making sure my gait was relaxed and that I smiled at the security guard as I left the building with no apparent rush, but if someone had checked my pulse, they would have known that I was about to have a heart attack.

All the way home, Imaintained the fa?ade that everything was fine in case someone was watching me. Barely able to breathe, I slammed my apartment door and bolted the locks, ignoring my shaky hands.Resting my head against the wood, I took a second tocalm down.

A bruise had formed around my armwhereSergei grabbed me. All afternoon, he had kept his steely gaze pinned to me, his eyes narrowed.

His words kept running through me:"Make sure you earn your money here, or we'll have you earn it somewhere else."

Hehadn'tbeen joking about that, and I was pretty sure he was talking about on my back.

The Post-it note with the account numberburneda hole in my pocket. Earlier this month, I had copied the worksheets to my cloud driveso I could access them from home. I wanted to see if there was a previous year with a name attached or any other businesses that sent funds to that account.

Although therewasn'tmuch I could do about it except quit my job and get the hell out, Iwasn'tsure what I thought I was doing. Even now, I was probably in deep shit. Super deep.

Still, I opened my laptop and pulled up the cloud account where I saved the sheets. Granted, Iwasn'tso stupid as to save them to a personal account, but I guessed they could still track them, so I worked quickly, scanning through each year and writing down each business and the amount that funneled money through the accounts.

When Iwas done, I pulled up incognito windows andsearchedeach one and variations. When Iwas done, Iwas leftwith an interesting connection to a blogger with a strange comment threadIfollowed down a rabbit hole on the dark web.

Hesitatingmomentarily, I clicked an active link and then pushed back from the table. Holy shit!Thismust have been the auction site they were getting funds from. I flicked through the pictures. The first one was of a woman with brown hair in her twenties and a haunted look in her eyes.Startingbid – 50,000. There were pages of people—menand women of all ages…and children.

Bile rose in the back of my throat.Auctioningpeople…like human slavery or some weird sex shit. I had been thinking maybe it was drugs or stolen art, but this was a whole separate level of criminal enterprise that I had never been a part of – that Iwouldn'tbe a part of.

Could I report them? Call the police? My mind raced with possibilities and the anxiety of getting caught, but the faces of the people being soldburned in my mind.

After getting a flash drive, I copied the spreadsheets and theauction site web link addressto it and then started shutting windows down and deleting the cloud files.

Realizing the back of my neck was prickling, I started thinking through my options.

Honestly,Iwasn'tsure what I could do to mitigate what I had seen or help anyone.The only thing I knew for sure was Icouldn'tstay here.There was no way thatthe breach wouldnot be noticedor thattheywouldn'tcome after me.Sergei was already suspicious.

Chewing on a fingernail, I thought for a minuteand then pulledout additional flash drives and copied their contents.Looking up addresses, I started addressing envelopes for thePhoenix branch of the FBI and the branch in Washington, D.C.,specializing in human trafficking.Ididn'tbother to put a return address; therewas no way I could stay here.

My heart started to pound just thinking about the accounts I uncovered and those poor people. Heading towards my bedroom, I pulled out a duffel bag and started stuffing it with the essentials.

Giving my space one more scan, I put my framed photos of my dad and one of me with some of the MC into my bag. Finally, I grabbed my cash and a paperback.

Opening my laptop, I sent in a notice that I had the flu andwouldbe out of work. That might take a few days.

I hated to do it, but I left the laptop,ensuringI had reset it to factory settings. The only thing on it was work stuff. If they did toss the apartment, it would be better that they found it there.

Heading to the nearest store down the block, I borrowed akid'sphone and dialed a cab. There was no way that I wanted to risk an Uber with my app. Maybe that was paranoid, but Makarovich worked for a big company and, adding in potential crime boss, well, better safe than sorry. There was just a feeling in my gut that I had to listen to that I needed to leave while I could.

Fiddling with the zipper on the side of my jacket, I thought long and hard about the decision I was about to make, but therewasn'tmuch of a choice. The Iron Brotherhood was my last refuge, and while it wastruethat my dad was gone, theywouldn'tturn me away. Going home would give me a chance to get some extra cash and some perspective. I was going to needMaddox'shelp with thefollowingsteps, and there was somewhere inside me that knew he would know what to do. The club ran in the periphery of those circles. While they didn't traffic trafficpeople, they ran guns. Or they used to – so I would think Maddox could give me advice.

Maybe I was bringing trouble to their door, but I was sure the Brotherhood could handle a few goons following me—if they followed me.Rationalizing to myself, Ididn'tbother changing my mind, but a part of me wondered if I was making a mistake.

Near the stationwas a mailbox store, so I posted the USBs using cash from a kiosk.Shoving the envelopes into the slot, I cringed a little at the finality of it, but at the same time, at least I had done something to help those people.

As I approached the ticket counter, the attendant glanced up from her torn copy of lastmonth'sgossip magazine. I purchased a one-way ticket to Haverboro, ignoring the stare that the woman at the counter gave me. The duffle dug into my shoulder as Iexitedthe bus and took my place in the back.

As the bus cruised through the night, I stared out the window, my thoughts bouncingeverywhere. I had had my head in the sand at the company, apparently thinking that nothing unsavory washappeningwith Concorde Financial that I needed to worry about.

Occasionally, an account would come across my desk that made me wonder, but I dismissed it. Now Iwonderedwhat sort of fresh hell I had been letting Makarovich get away with just because Iwasn'twilling to delve deeper andask a few more questions.

If I could get to the club, Maddox would know what to do. I could ask them for aloan,enough money to run. Perhaps I was being hysterical, and it would be fine. Maybe the feds would take Makarovich and his shady operation down. Or, perhaps they wouldn't come after me at all.

Somehow, though, I was sure they would realizeIhad information about their finances and organization that theydidn'twant other people to know about. I would be termed a‘loose end.'The day-to-day account informationIsigned an NDA for would be enough for them to chase me down. Although now that I had sent all those USBs, it would probably be just for revenge.

Fuck.

The city lights gave way to open roads, and Icouldn'thelp but wonder what response I would get when I got there. Ihadn'tkept in touch with anyone, but I knew the Brotherhood was still active. There might have been a small part of me that I did a little remote checking occasionally.

After Maddox asked me to leave, Iwonderedif he would cave and come looking.That moment between us in the hallway – it had seemed like, fora second, he had wanted me. Even yearned for me, but I wasn't very experienced. The fool that I was, everyonce in a while, I would see a motorcycle and think it was his. I was an idiot, though…Maddox would never waste his time stalking me. That was just laughable.

I woke up as the bus pulled into Haverboro, where the motorcycle club was based. The familiar sign came into view, welcoming me back to a place that held all my best memories—thebus ground to a halt with that unmistakable squeaking of brakes and the smell of fuel.Gathering myself and my belongings, I exited the bus onto thetown's quiet streets.

Secretly, I'vealways loved Haverboro, eventhough there was nothing outwardlyremarkableabout it. It was just anothertinyArizona town hovering on the edges of the bigger cities. It had always been just hanging on with a few small businesses scattered with strip malls in between.

I supposed it was home, though; I got that comforting sense when I was there.That idea that I knew where every shortcut was, thatI'dmade memories there, and where everything was.I realized I missed it.

Leaning against thestation brick,I thought about the call I needed to make.As a teenager, I had the worst crush on Maddox.I'dneverpreciselygotten over it. He was the source of all my dirty fantasies, evenif he never gave me the time of day.I'dspent more time touching myself thinking about Maddox Bishop thanI'dcare to admit.

When he came to work for my dad, hemade an instant impact onme.He was broody andhandsomebut also more than a little frightening.Maddox wasthe tortured soulthat women always thought they could fix.The ones with pain in the corners of their eyes.He put an immediate stop to any daydreams about him, though.

I could still remember his biting comments. Thinking back to one encounter with him...

"What do you want, littlegirl?"His mocking laughonlymade me angrier. Maddox was new to the Brotherhood, and I was sure my dad would befuriousto hear how he was talking to me. Still, standing there clutching myschoolbooks, I was torn between wanting to run and wanting to stand up to him.

"Idon'twant anything,"I bit my lip."Youshouldn'ttalk to me like that, youknow. Dadwouldn'tlike it."I threw in, mainly because Icouldn'thelp myself. I couldtattle on him for being a prick, but I tried not to do things like that.

"Youshouldn'tbe here."He lit his cigarette, blowing smoke in my direction intentionally.

Wrinkling my noseinconfusion,I looked around the clubhouse. There was nobody here besides Maddox. It was empty this early afternoon; mostof the guys were out on runs or whatever motorcycle club business they had. There was no reason for me not to be there. My daddidn'tlike me to be in the main club area at night when the guys got wild andthe club bunnies were down here, but whywouldn'tI be here now?

It was the time of the day when the music was off, and the club was quiet. A time when I could go to the kitchen, Amber,Whitney'soldlady, would be in the kitchen to make me a grilled cheese sandwich the way I liked.She'dhelp me with my English homework if I wanted.

"What do you mean? Schoolis finishedfor the day. Where else would I be?"I was confused.

"Not in a motorcycle club. That's where."

Understanding washed over me. Oh, I see.Hedisapproved of me living here and what Daddy had done to keep me at the club.

"That'snot your decision.Where I live,"I answered snottily."You'renot the president of the Brotherhood,"I said with a frown."You'renot in charge of me and what I do, MaddoxBishop."

"Well,you'renot wrong about that princess."Throwing back hiswhiskey, he stood anddidn'tlook away from me as he did. Jesus, he was huge. He'd have been better looking if hehadn'tconfused me somuch, but he still caused a thrill to run through me. Growing up around the club had provided me with no shortage of good-looking men to look at. Plenty thatweren'tas rude as this asshole.

"Stay away from me,"he said as he walked away.

"No problem,"I retorted, not sure what his problem was, but strangely hurt. Waiting until he was good and gone, I headed towards the kitchen, swearingthat Maddox Bishopwouldn'tever have any power to say where I could andcouldn'tbe.

The memory washed over me. The idea that I needed MaddoxBishop'shelp was sour in my mouth. Granted, the last time I saw him at myfather'sfuneral was a different story.He'dmellowed, even eyed me with interest instead of barely concealed dislike. Although he had told me to leave – Ihad always gotten mixed messages from Maddox.

Still, I hated to call. Getting away from Maddox was one of the reasons that I'd pushed myself to stay in the city. After my dad's death, I could have returned to Haverboro and come home. However, Maddox had made it clear that I wasn't welcome. That had been a depressing realization for me on top of my dad dying, not being wanted.

Finally, I went ahead and dialed his number. Staring down at myConverse,I let my blond hair fall forward as the phone rang and tried to ignore the feeling of anxiety spiking.

"Helena?"His tone was careful."Is that you? Why are you calling?""Maddox demanded, his voice laced with concern.".

Maddox always sounded pissed off, andtoday was no exception. The growl that seemed to always be present in his voice was rough over the line, hitting me in the belly, but the relief at his voice almost made me sob.

"Yeah,Maddox,it'sme. Look,I'min town at the bus station."I hesitated for a minute and then plunged forward,unsurewhy it was so hard to get the words out."Is there any way you can send someone for me? I need your help."There was no way I wanted to go over everything over the phone.

"Just tell me ifyou'realright."I could hear him getting up, thenoise of the clubin the background, music, and voices—familiar childhood sounds."I'mon my way right now, princess.Don'tmove."

"Thanks. I appreciate it, Maddox."

"Are you hurt?" There was an odd note of panic in his voice and then a faint, "Get the fuck out of my way, asshole."

"I'mok."I tried to make my voice brighter, butI wassleepy, andit hadbeen a crappy day."I'mat the bus station."I slid the phone into my pocket with a sigh and waited for him.

Itwasn'tlong until I could hear the unmistakable throaty rumble that meant my ride was there. The roar of a motorcycle engine grew louder, resonating through the narrow streets of Haverboro.Adjusting my leather jacket, Itriedto shield myself from the biting evening windwhippingthrough the alley.Pulling my jacket tighter aroundme, the Arizona desert could be chilly in the evening.

As the rumble drew nearer, Icouldn'thelp but feel a mix of relief and anxiety. The club had always been my home in the past, a place where I felt safe and protected. But Ihadn'tplanned on returning now that my father had passed away. Ever. That life was supposed to be over.Before,I had a specific place there, one shelteredfrom the one women typically have at the club.Don'tget me wrong, Ididn'tlook down on any of the girls there, but my plan never included working at the club.My father was always adamant that he wanted a different future for me.A future that consisted of a life with a career and a husband.I'munsureifI wanted that, but I was happy to go to college and spread my wings.

A motorcycle rounded the corner, Maddox on his imposing black Dyna Glide. Some thingsdidn'tchange.

He skillfully maneuvered his bike to a stop, the chrome exhaust pipes emitting a final growl before falling silent. Dressed in the iconic black leather cut with theclub'slogo, Maddox dismounted and approached with a purposeful stride. Rough, blond, and bearded with piercing eyes that were as captivating as ever, therewas an edge to him that had always given Maddox Bishop that undeniable extra sex appeal. Panties had dropped for him since I could remember. There was also that part of him that had always seemed to be begging someone to challenge him, push him just a little farther. It had always been appealing. I could tell thathadn'tchanged. The three years since the funeral had only made him more handsome.

"Helena,"he said, his voice so deep that shivers went down my spine. "You okay?"His eyes traveled from my batteredsneakers and faded jeansto my loose hair, doinga completeinventory.I wondered if he still saw the teenagerwholeft here, the girl who played dress up for herfather'sfuneral a few years ago, or a woman.Which Helena did he see now? Did he see that young girl that he saiddidn'tbelong?

I nodded, struggling to meet his intense gaze."Yeah, just in a rough spot. I need your help with something. Some advice."I added,"Thanks for coming."Biting my lip, I forced myself to swallow my pride."Can I stay at the club for a few nights?"

Maddox'sexpression softenedmomentarily, concern breaking through his tough exterior."C'mon,let'sget you out of here.We'lltalk back at the Open Road,"he gestured towards the waiting motorcycle.

I flashed him a grin. Even though this had been a long day and I was in trouble, Iwouldenjoy every second of this ride. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd be sitting on the back of Maddox's bike. Well, maybe in some of those dreams …

"Let'sprotect that pretty brainpan of yours,"he said, coming forward gently with a spare helmet.

"Just,"Maddox started and then paused, tilting his head as he looked at me for a moment, brushing a thumb over my jaw."Let me look at you for a minute."My thoughts stilled, my heart pounding as his eyes searched mine.

"Are youalright,Helena?"Those hazel eyes looked at me again, narrowing.

"Can we talk about it later?"I was pretty good at deflectingbecause he nodded.

"Sure, baby." My heart stuttered at the endearment. "You'vegrown up finally, haven'tyou, princess."It was a statement, so Ididn'tbother to answer, butI held his gaze as he smoothed the hair behind my ears and pulled the helmet over my head, tryingto ignore how his callused fingers brushed the edges of my cheeks.

Grabbing my bag, he strapped it to his bag and then climbed on.

As I got onto the back ofMaddox'sbike, the smell of the leather and engine oil enveloped me — the smells I associated with him. I wrapped my arms around his torso, fitting myself to him, fisting my hands into his t-shirt as the engine roared to life again. Leaving the crappy evening behindme,I gave myself over to the night, the motorcycle, and Maddox. God, I was glad to be home.