Savage (Park Avenue Kings #1)

1. Lachlan

1

LACHLAN

N OTHING GOOD HAPPENED after midnight. Not in a dark, trash-filled alley in Queens, anyway.

From my place high above on the edge of a building, I watched the men gathered below recoil against the bitter January wind, kicking away the debris that swirled around their ankles.

Only the classiest of meetups for drug dealers attempting to infiltrate our city. And while I didn’t have an issue with anyone partaking in their sin of choice, these fuckers were lacing their shit. New on the scene, not under our rule, and sending New Yorkers to the morgue?

Fuck. That.

“Oh look, the rest of the tiny-dick brigade has arrived,” Alessio said through my earpiece, watching the scene below through the camera on my trench coat.

I trained my binoculars on the new figures arriving in the shadows. Three guys looking twitchy as hell, hands in their pockets, ready to pull out a weapon at any sign of aggression from the four waiting. They faced off with each other, several feet between them, and from the mics and cameras I’d placed down in the alley, I knew Alessio was getting a much clearer view. Probably already had each of the assholes scanned and identified.

Words were exchanged, prices negotiated, and then the goods made their appearance.

“You getting this?” I said, keeping my voice low so it didn’t carry on the wind.

“Callin’ me an amateur?”

“Just making sure I’m not freezing my ass off for no reason.”

“Hey, you’re the one who likes getting up close and personal with these assholes. Me, I prefer my cave.”

“Do you ever shut up?” I muttered. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Sounded to me like you were bitchin’ about freezin’ your balls off.”

I cursed under my breath as a particularly cold blast of air howled between the buildings, but Alessio was right—I had no one to blame but myself for being out here. When we’d caught news of the deal going down tonight, King had told us to set up a team to get eyes on the transaction and report back. But this was too important to just send someone. People were dying, and there was no way I was about to miss an opportunity to gather intel.

I wanted faces and names, wanted to know the players that were out doing the dirty work for these motherfuckers—but most importantly, I wanted the head of this snake, and if that meant freezing my balls off, then that’s what I’d do.

“I’m moving closer. I can’t see shit up here.”

“I’ve got eyes on them; you don’t have to— Lachlan.”

I tuned Alessio out and melted into the shadows, making my way toward the stairs of the fire escape, never more thankful to the city that didn’t sleep, the ever-present traffic the perfect soundtrack to mask any sound the wrought iron made under my feet.

One of the guys down below nodded as he looked at the small packet in his hand and then followed the group of four to the back of his nondescript panel van parked in the alley.

Wow, way to play to your typical stereotypes.

Three of the four stood guard, hands at their waists in an obvious make-a-move-we-don’t-like-and-we’ll-kill-you stance, as the fourth opened the doors and unzipped a black duffel bag.

My eyes caught on the small packets overflowing from the bag as I hung from the final floor’s fire escape. I glanced to the end of the alley, where a bus zoomed by, followed by an angry taxi horn or three, then dropped to the ground and hugged the side of the building.

One of the gun-loving trio turned in my direction, flexing his hand against the grip of his gun as some sixth sense kicked in and told him he wasn’t the most dangerous thing in that alley. But when nothing seemed out of place, he went back to the deal at hand.

“Too close, Lachlan,” my backseat driver pointed out. “He almost spotted you.”

“Who’s calling who an amateur now? You got those face recs yet?”

“The Three Stooges, yep. I need the last one to turn around again.”

“What about the buyers?”

“Not facing the right way.”

“Fuckin’ hell.”

“So we gonna do this or what?” one of the buyers said as he glanced over his shoulder toward the street. His paranoia was becoming more apparent the longer the deal dragged out.

“As soon as you show the cash transfer,” Duffel Bag Guy said, gesturing toward the phone in the buyer’s hand. He turned on his cell and started to input information into what I assumed was an offshore account, and a couple seconds in, a sound from further up, in front of the van—a trash can, maybe—echoed off the buildings around us.

Everyone froze.

“What the fuck was that?”

My head whipped in the direction of the sound, and Alessio said, “Looks like someone else wants to crash this party.”

I started to demand he elaborate on what the cameras were seeing, but then I noticed a head of hair jerk back, trying to blend in with the shadows.

“Any chance they’ll think it was a cat?” Alessio said.

But two of the men were already heading in that direction, guns drawn.

“Nope.”

Whoever had been spying was obviously not a professional at it, and they easily dragged him from his hiding spot.

One of the men growled, “You fuckin’ spying on us?”

The spy started to shake his head and say no, but the man holding him by his shirt tightened his grip and brought his face in close.

“Just spending a quiet night in an alley with the rats, huh?”

“He looks like a rat,” the other one sneered.

With his face turned up in the moonlight, I finally got a better look at the man who didn’t belong there. And he definitely didn’t look like a rodent. He looked like a fucking Boy Scout.

I’d expected whoever was hiding behind a dumpster to look strung out, but this guy was clean-cut and dressed casually in dark jeans, a jacket, and sneakers. There was an appropriate amount of fear in his eyes given the situation he’d found himself in, though there was more going on here than a simple wrong place, wrong time.

Whoever he was, he hadn’t come prepared for confrontation—something that became painfully obvious when they dragged him to the back of the van and patted him down for weapons.

“I don’t have anything?—”

“We’ll be the judge of that.” The one with the cruel sneer ran his gloved hand over the front of the guy’s jacket, parting the material to pat down his chest. “What about down here? You packin’?” He lowered his hand to the front of the intruder’s jeans, and when the guy struggled to get free, my adrenaline began to kick in.

“Don’t do it, man,” Alessio warned. “I mean it—this doesn’t involve you.”

Didn’t matter. It was one thing for these assholes to conduct their business and fuck each other over, another to have an innocent get involved. He shouldn’t be here, and I could see every one of his regrets flashing across that attractive face of his.

“What the fuck’s taking so long?” the driver of the van grumbled, sticking his head out the window. “Wrap this shit up or we’re out.”

One of the goons cocked his gun and aimed it at the guy’s head.

“Oh come on, not the head. That shit’s too messy,” the one holding him said.

“No, please, I won’t say anything, just let me go.” The guy tried again to break free.

“Sorry. No can do.”

A growl tore out of my chest.

“Lachlan,” Alessio said, “King will have your balls for breakfast if you?—”

I ripped the earpiece out, shoved it in my pocket, and grabbed one of the throwing stars instead and aimed it at the shithead holding tight to the intruder.

He wouldn’t be for long.

With a flick of my wrist, I sent it flying, and it hit true, striking his neck and causing several reactions that all happened in a heartbeat.

The man caught in the carotid artery let go, reaching up at his neck as he backed away. The innocent’s legs swayed unsteadily before he dropped, his knees hitting the ground with a thud and his phone falling out of his jacket and skidding across the pavement. The gun thug spun around, aiming the muzzle in my direction, but I was already on him, grabbing the barrel with one hand and landing a hard, fast strike to his wrist.

The gun was in my possession before the rest of the men standing at the back of the van even knew what was happening. They scrambled for their weapons, a couple of them cursing before diving into the van like the pussies they were.

I aimed the gun at the remaining men.

“Now,” I said, words low and slightly muffled behind the mask I wore. “We can do this the easy way…or the hard way.”