Shattered Claim: The Hidden Billionaire Mechanic

uely

h the stale stench of expensive cigars and old money built on dirty road business. This was Church-the one

was the founder's widow-Club Mother. No Patch, no vote, but decades of club politics had given her a voice th

nd Martha's left shoulder, gently massaging the old woman's neck, while Jamir sat

down with a sharp cl

ry, aristocratic, and thoroughly condescending. "Tearing off your rocker? Deman

room, standing straight, my han

artha. It was an offici

slammed down o

your father's garage burned to the ground, you would have been

ith an easy smirk. "Jackie, apologize to Hillary, pour mother he

touching the cold insurance policy I'd spent months scavenging from the garage's medical waste-and pulled

to a stop right agains

oulders. The color drained from her

tle field medic what this is?" I

l is that supposed to be? Hillary saved six b

-nervous-system stimulant to mask acute hemorrhagic shock. It creates a tempora

sult of a risky, off-the-books favor I'd called in a

owntown medical exchange. It has Hillary's supply re

ons, but peddling banned neuro-stimulants inside coalition territory wasn't just

a's chair, weeping uncontrollably. "Mother Reilly, she's

Jamir roared, leapi

g, his fingers clawing

el, slipping inside his reach. My right hand dropped to my utility belt

amir squarely on his ext

nch echoed thro

lutching his shattered elbow as he col

r chair, her jewelry rattling. "You dare

it wasn't Martha's guar

at Jamir writhing on the floor, Hillary cowering in the

happened here

inst my pants. "He lunged at me. I defended m

She could lie, but Rook wasn't just any member-he was the club

mitted through gritted teet

"I told him in the garage-don

u drew on an Old Lady. In Church. After you brought an unpatched

nd humiliation, but he said noth

n that table with your batch number on it. You're

t wide with panic.

e done. And anyone who covered for you-" his gaze landed on Jamir,

unds was one thing. But covering for someone who poisoned your

ddenly looked a

his voice suddenly

urn the house down over this.

private account within seventy-two hours-the club's legal debt to me,

ned white. She looked at her screaming son on th

our paperwork. Now d

inals when the wi

I could feel his eyes on my back. He was already calculatin

mir's pathetic whimpers. As I crossed the threshold into the long corridor, I caught the

in my boot. The old woman wasn't going to