UNDERCOVER TO MY HEART

ENEMY LINES

A single breath stood between survival and a bullet through my skull.

The flashlight beam blinded me, pinning my face against the icy rock wall like a target on a shooting range. Before the gunman could squeeze his trigger or scream into his radio, Jack moved. He burst out of the alcove like a coiled spring, his heavy hand clamping hard over the man's mouth.

Jack slammed the gunman backward into the cliff face with a sickening thud. The flashlight dropped into the dirt, rolling away into the brush. The man thrashed violently, reaching for his hip, but Jack snapped his wrist sideways and drove a brutal knee straight into his ribs. The gunman went limp, collapsing into the wet leaves.

Grab his comms, Jack ordered, his chest heaving as he held the unconscious man down. Quick, Bella.

I lunged forward, unclipping the crackling radio from the guard's vest and shoving it deep into my tactical jacket pocket. I snatched his heavy sidearm too, tucking it into my waistband.

Up the ridge, Jack whispered, pulling me by the elbow. Before the rest of his squad realizes he stopped answering.

We scrambled up the muddy embankment, digging our boots into the loose soil until our hands gripped the cold steel guardrail of the highway. The mountain road was a scene of total chaos. Smoke rolled off the burning wreckage of the lead SUV, filling the night air with the sharp stench of scorched rubber and gasoline.

Over here, a sharp voice barked through the smog.

Roxy pulled her heavy motorcycle onto the shoulder, her leather jacket ripped at the shoulder and her face smeared with black grease. Her eyes narrowed into deadly slits the second she saw us climb over the railing.

Where the hell were you two? Roxy demanded, stepping close and resting her hand on the silver hilt of her hunting knife. The whole convoy got hit, and you two just vanished into thin air.

The bike blew a tire on the ridge, Jack lied smoothly, stepping directly between me and Roxy's blade. We took out one of their scouts in the trees.

Is that right? Roxy spat, her cold eyes sliding past Jack to glare straight at me. Because it looked like you took a dive over the edge together. You look awfully comfortable with the new bartender, Jack.

She is alive, and so are we, Jack growled, his voice dropping into a dangerous warning tone. Fire up your engine, Roxy. We need to move the cargo before the state troopers show up.

Roxy stared at me for three agonizing seconds, her lip curling into a sneer. You better watch your back, sweetheart, she muttered, kicking her bike into gear. Things do not add up with you.

We piled into the back of the surviving cargo truck, keeping our mouths shut as the convoy sped away from the burning highway. Twenty minutes later, the heavy iron gates of the Iron Serpents compound groaned open. The facility was a sprawling, hidden junkyard right on the coast, surrounded by rusted shipping containers, towering stacks of scrap metal, and high barbed wire fences.

The truck ground to a halt inside the main warehouse. The air inside smelled like ocean salt, stale diesel, and old iron.

Everybody out! a harsh voice echoed through the dark rafters.

My heart plummeted into my stomach. Standing in the center of the concrete floor was Xavier Knight. The cartel leader was dressed in a pristine black suit that looked completely out of place in the dusty warehouse. Four heavily armed guards stood behind him, their assault rifles held at the ready.

Xavier was furious. His jaw was set like granite, and his dark eyes burned with pure venom as he looked over the battered convoy.

You let a rival gang ambush my shipment on an open highway? Xavier yelled, his voice echoing off the corrugated metal walls. I paid your club millions to ensure this delivery went smoothly!

We lost three men holding them off, Jack said, stepping forward with his hands open. The shipment is intact, Xavier. The victims are still in the back of the truck.

Silence! Xavier snapped, pointing a long finger at Jack's chest. I do not care about your excuses, Jack. The police will be crawling all over that mountain in less than an hour. If my operation is exposed, every single one of you will end up in the ocean.

What are your orders, boss? Roxy asked, lowering her head respectfully.

Lock down the entire compound, Xavier demanded, turning to face the crowd of bikers. No one enters. No one leaves. Shut the heavy iron gates and turn off all the outer lights. We load the cargo onto the boat at midnight, and not a second later.

That is too risky, Jack argued, taking another step closer to the cartel leader. The coast guard patrols those waters. If we move now, we are walking into a trap.

I make the decisions here, Xavier said softly, his voice dropping into a chilling whisper. And right now, I think someone in this room gave up our transit route to the rival gang.

The warehouse went dead silent. You could hear the faint drip of oil onto the concrete floor.

What are you saying, Xavier? Vice President Marcus asked, stepping up beside Jack.

I am saying we have a rat in our cellar, Xavier said, his eyes scanning the faces in the room until they landed straight on me. We have a brand new face standing in our ranks tonight. A pretty girl who just happened to join the club right before my supply chain started falling apart.

She is clean, Jack said immediately, his voice tight and hard. I checked her myself.

Then you will not mind if my security detail double-checks your work, Xavier sneered.

Xavier raised his hand, signaling his guards to step forward.

Search everyone, Xavier commanded. Every pocket, every bag, every phone. If I find a wire or a tracking device on anyone in this room, I will put a bullet through their eye myself.

Panic surged through my veins like ice water. Inside my right jacket pocket sat the tiny, silver ATF tracking beacon. It was actively broadcasting my live location to my federal handling team. If Xavier's guards found it, my cover was blown, and Jack and I would be dead before we could draw our weapons.

Line up! a guard shouted, shoving a biker against the side of the truck.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a fraction of a second, trying to force my hands to stop shaking. I slid my fingers into my pocket, trying to slip the tiny beacon into the inner lining of my jacket, but it was too late.

Xavier stepped directly in front of me, bypassing his own guards. He towered over me, his cold eyes studying my pale face with sickening amusement.

You are shaking, little girl, Xavier murmured, reaching out his leather-gloved hand. What are you hiding in those big pockets?

Before I could pull away, Xavier slammed his heavy hand flat against my right jacket pocket, his fingers pressing hard directly over the hard, metallic outline of my secret tracking beacon.