Page 42 of Cipher

A rough sound escaped me as I pictured Stryker’s five-foot-two wife trying to take me apart and put me in the ground with a custom leather vest.

Stryker’s expression sobered, and his eyes hardened. “Didn’t say she wouldn’t have help.”

Warmth filled my chest because I understood exactly what he was telling me. Bex had become family to his wife long before she became mine, and every brother in the club would hold me accountable if I treated her claim as anything less than permanent. The warning wasn’t necessary, but the loyalty beneath it belonged to the same code that made the vest matter.

“Bex’ll need the vest,” I assured him.

Stryker nodded and returned his attention to the paperwork, dismissing me without another word. I opened the door, chuckling at the fact that Stryker had ordered the leather before I stopped fighting the inevitable. And he’d been right.

Bex would wear my name because there was no version of my future where she didn’t.

17

BEX

Corbin and I went to Black Castle again late Saturday morning. This time, I didn’t need his hand on my lower back to guide me to the conference room since I remembered the route, but I still liked having it there. Especially because the muscle in my dad’s jaw jumped a little less each time he saw us. Hopefully by the end of all this, he’d be on board with our relationship.

At least something good would’ve come out of it since he never would’ve allowed Corbin anywhere near me otherwise. Not that my dad could’ve actually stopped him, but I would have hated that the two men who meant the most to me were at odds with each other.

Today’s meeting was with my dad and a vetted analyst. When we sat down across from them, the analyst got straight to it. “We need to tighten the picture on access. I’ve already gone over most of this with your father, but it would be helpful to confirm with another person familiar with a different perspective. Make sure nothing is missed.”

“I’m happy to help however I can,” I offered.

“Start with Nina,” he requested. “She was enrolled in Safe at Home. Where could her real address have existed outside the state program?”

“Not in routine county records,” I answered. “The substitute address is what most agencies would see.”

My dad’s eyes narrowed. “My department already had the real one. After Jeff violated the restraining order before, we made a formal law-enforcement request so assigned investigators and emergency personnel could locate Nina if he came after her again. The address was stored in a sealed confidential location addendum inside her restricted case file.”

Corbin’s gaze sharpened. “Which platform?”

“The records-management system,” Dad replied. “Only a small group had elevated access, and every time somebody opened that addendum, it should’ve created an audit entry.”

“Stowe’s contract covers that platform and its audit logs,” Corbin murmured. “A county insider could open the addendum. Somebody using Stowe’s credentials could erase the trace.”

“Or he hired a hacker.” I glanced at Corbin and then quickly looked away. “I can’t imagine the Safe at Home program would be a big challenge to someone with the right skills.”

“Government databases are breached constantly,” Corbin murmured, earning him a death stare from my dad that he barely noticed. “But I don’t think that’s what happened.”

Having no clue about the undercurrent between the other two men, the analyst asked, “So Safe at Home itself may never have been breached?”

“It probably wasn’t,” Corbin said. “The weak point was the confidential copy the county requested to protect her.”

I looked toward the frozen image of Pike. “And he went to the house to make sure the address was still current.”

The analyst’s brows pinched together before he queried, “But creating a believable response gap still takes local knowledge, right?”

“Yes.” I gave him a rundown of how units are assigned, how dispatchers choose which car to send when resources are thin, and what kind of call would actually pull the nearest deputy away.

The analyst nodded. “That lines up with what your father told me.”

Corbin’s phone vibrated against the table. He glanced at the screen and answered with a short, “Go.”

I couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but I spotted the subtle shift in his posture that most people would’ve missed. But I’d spent so much time with him that I suspected this wasn’t going to be good. And listening in to his half only confirmed it.

“When?” There was a brief pause, then he asked, “Direction?”

The answer from the caller was longer this time before Corbin instructed, “Keep eyes on him. Do not let him reach the turnoff.”