Wrecked By A Wounded Biker

Chapter 5 - Combustion

SOPHIE DID not call Matthew before driving to Moore Customs and the decision had been intentional.

Sophie preferred preparation, facts, and carefully planned conversations. Walking into a confrontation fueled entirely by frustration was not her style.

Unfortunately, neither was discovering that fragments of her stolen cybersecurity prototype had been routed through a network connected to Matthew's garage.

After six hours of tracing access logs, analyzing telemetry records, and verifying the results multiple times, she kept reaching the same conclusion.

Somewhere in the chain sat Moore Customs.

The realization had followed her all morning like a weight she could not shake. Part of her wanted to believe there had been a mistake. Anything that would explain why Matthew's garage appeared in an investigation connected to illegal race systems.

Because if the data was accurate, then someone inside Matthew's orbit was involved.

The garage was already busy when she arrived. Normally, Sophie found the atmosphere strangely comforting.

Today she barely noticed it.

Her attention immediately found Matthew.

He stood near one of the lifts, grease staining his forearms as he spoke with a mechanic. The moment he saw her standing in the entrance, he stopped talking.

Even from across the garage, she saw concern flash across his face before caution quickly replaced it.

Matthew handed off the wrench in his hand and started walking toward her.

"Soph," he said when he reached her. "You look like you've either solved world hunger or you're about to commit a felony."

Normally, she might have laughed.

Today she didn't.

"We need to talk."

His smile disappeared immediately.

Several nearby mechanics glanced toward them before quickly finding other things to stare at.

Matthew studied her face for a second. "What happened?"

"Not here."

His eyebrows rose. "That's usually my line."

"Matthew."

Whatever he saw in her expression erased the rest of the joke before it formed. Without another word, he gestured toward the back of the garage. They stopped near a workbench away from most of the activity.

Sophie pulled her tablet from her bag and handed it to him. Matthew looked down at the screen. His expression remained neutral for several seconds as he scanned the information.

Then he looked up. "What exactly am I looking at?"

"My stolen code."

His eyes narrowed. "What about it?"

"It was used inside the telemetry systems from the race."

Matthew stared at her. “The race from two nights ago?"

"Yes."

He looked back at the screen.

Sophie folded her arms. "I spent most of the night verifying the traces. Whoever accessed my prototype routed it through multiple relay points before deploying it into the race systems."

Matthew continued reading. "And?"

"And one of those relay points leads directly back to Moore Customs."

For the first time, genuine surprise crossed his face. "What?"

"The access trail terminates here."

Matthew looked back at the data. "No,” he said. “That's impossible."

"It's verified."

"I'm not saying your data is wrong." He handed the tablet back. "I'm saying nobody here knows enough about cybersecurity to do whatever the hell this is."

Sophie slipped the tablet back into her bag. "Somebody clearly does."

Matthew's jaw tightened. The frustration on his face seemed directed at the situation rather than at her. That should have been reassuring. Instead, it made everything worse. Because she had arrived prepared to be angry.

It was difficult to stay angry at someone who looked genuinely blindsided.

"You think I had something to do with this?" he asked quietly.

The question hung between them.

Sophie hesitated. "I think your network was used."

"That's not an answer."

"No," she admitted. "It isn't."

Matthew crossed his arms. For a moment neither spoke. Then he exhaled slowly.

"You really think I'd steal your work?"

The disappointment in his voice hit harder than she expected.

"I think someone connected to this garage had access to systems they shouldn't have."

"That's not what I asked."

Sophie looked away briefly. The truth was uncomfortable. She didn't think Matthew had stolen her code.

If she truly believed that, she wouldn't be standing here having this conversation. She would already be talking to the police.

Matthew seemed to recognize the answer in her silence.

His shoulders relaxed slightly. "Okay," he said. "Then let's find out who."

Before she could respond, he turned toward the main work area.

"Everybody stop what you're doing."

The command carried across the garage instantly. Conversations died and tools lowered. Even the music suddenly seemed quieter.

Matthew rarely raised his voice. The fact that he had done so now was enough to command immediate attention.

He pointed toward a diagnostics station. "Luis. Come here."

A mechanic in his mid-twenties looked up sharply.

Sophie's stomach tightened.

The nervousness on the man's face appeared almost immediately. Not subtle nervousness. Not uncertainty. But fear.

Matthew noticed it too and his expression hardened.

Luis approached slowly. "What's going on, boss?"

Matthew didn't answer immediately. Instead, he studied him. Then he asked, "Have you been running side jobs through my network?"

Luis froze. The reaction lasted less than a second. But it was enough.

"What?" Luis laughed nervously. "No."

Matthew's voice remained calm. "Think carefully before you answer again."

The garage fell completely silent. Luis swallowed. Sophie felt her pulse beginning to climb.

"I've done a couple tuning jobs."

"What kind of tuning jobs?"

"Just race stuff."

Matthew stared at him. "What kind of race stuff?"

Luis shifted uncomfortably. "Telemetry work."

Nobody spoke. The silence seemed to expand.

Matthew took a step forward. "Explain."

Luis rubbed the back of his neck. "It wasn't a big deal. Some crews needed software adjustments for diagnostics and performance tracking."

"You used my network."

"I needed the server access."

"You used my network," Matthew repeated.

The mechanic immediately realized he had chosen the wrong defense. "Boss, I wasn't trying to cause problems."

"What exactly were you doing?"

Luis looked around the garage as if searching for support. He found none.

Finally, he sighed. "Some people offered money to optimize race telemetry."

Sophie's heartbeat accelerated. "Who?" she asked.

Luis looked at her. "I don't know their names."

"You took money from strangers to modify race systems?"

"They paid in crypto."

"That isn't reassuring,” Matthew muttered.

His expression grew increasingly uncomfortable. Matthew stepped closer. The easygoing mechanic Sophie knew was gone. The man standing in front of Luis looked far more dangerous.

"What else?" he asked, brows furrowing.

Luis hesitated.

Matthew's voice dropped lower. "What else?"

The mechanic visibly deflated. "They started asking for remote access functions."

Sophie felt every muscle in her body tighten. "Remote access?" she repeated.

Luis nodded reluctantly. "They wanted rider data, predictive analytics, and override capabilities."

The garage became so quiet that Sophie could hear an engine ticking as it cooled somewhere behind them.

Matthew stared at him. "You gave people remote override access to race bikes?"

Luis immediately lifted both hands. "I didn't think they were actually using it."

"You didn't think?" Matthew asked incredulously.

"I thought it was betting software."

"And that made it better?"

Luis looked miserable. "I needed the money."

Matthew laughed once. The sound held no amusement whatsoever. "Congratulations," he said. "You no longer have a job."

Luis blinked. "Boss—"

"No."

"Please listen—"

"No." The finality in Matthew's voice silenced him. "You don't get to use my business for something like this and then ask for understanding afterward."

Luis looked genuinely panicked. "I didn't know anybody was getting hurt."

"You should have asked questions before taking the money." Matthew pointed toward the door. "Get out."

The mechanic opened his mouth. Matthew's stare shut it again. Several seconds later, Luis grabbed his backpack and left. The garage remained silent until the door closed behind him.

Only then did anyone breathe.

Matthew dragged a hand across his face. For the first time since Sophie had arrived, he looked exhausted. "I didn't know."

And Sophie believed him. That realization complicated everything. Because believing Matthew meant accepting that somebody else had used his trust against him.

"You need better security," she said.

Matthew laughed humorlessly. "Is that your professional assessment?"

"It's my honest one."

He shook his head. "You know, this is exactly why talking to you is exhausting sometimes."

Sophie frowned. "Excuse me?"

"You always sound like you're presenting findings at a board meeting."

Her eyes narrowed. "And you always act like planning ahead is some kind of personality flaw."

"Planning ahead isn't the problem."

"Then what is?"

Matthew met her gaze. "The problem is that you walk into situations already convinced you know how they should be solved."

Sophie crossed her arms. "That's because I usually have a solution."

"And everybody else is just supposed to fall in line behind your solution?" She took a step closer. "I expect people to stop making problems worse."

"And I expect people to understand that not everything can be fixed with spreadsheets and algorithms."

The tension between them sharpened instantly. Neither seemed willing to back down. And somehow that had always been part of the problem.

Or maybe part of the attraction.

Sometimes Sophie honestly couldn't tell the difference anymore.