3. BLAKE
Chapter three
BLAKE
T he acrid scent of gunpowder hung in the air. Blake Marks, clad in dark, tactical clothing, stood tall and muscular at a shooting range booth, his piercing blue eyes focused on the target downrange.
After a slow exhalation, he squeezed the trigger, and the bullet found its mark with deadly accuracy. To his left, Nash fired off a round, hitting just slightly outside the bullseye.
"Getting rusty, big brother?" Blake teased, glancing over at Nash who smirked.
"Speak for yourself," Nash retorted, taking another shot that edged closer to the center.
Jax, the youngest of the three Paladin brothers, huffed from his position on Blake's right. His glasses slid down his nose as he squinted at the target, trying to line up his shot. The bullet landed farther out than either of his brothers, prompting a chuckle from Blake.
"Maybe you should stick to computers, little brother," Blake quipped, earning a glare from Jax.
"Just remember who keeps your tech running," Jax shot back with a sarcastic grin.
Blake lined up his shot and squeezed the trigger. The bullet tore through the center of the target, leaving a neat hole in its wake. He lowered his gun, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. “Damn, I’m good.”
"Show-off," Jax muttered, stepping up again. His shot went wide, barely grazing the edge of the target.
Nash chuckled, shaking his head. "Keep trying, baby bro."
"We can't all be super-soldiers like Blakey here," Jax countered, gesturing to his older brother. "Some of us have to rely on our brains instead of our brawn."
Blake rolled his eyes, reloading his gun.
"Speaking of brains,” said Nash, “what've you got on our corrupt politician friend, Jax? Any updates?"
Blake let out a frustrated sigh. “Another corrupt politician? Sometimes I wonder if we're making any real difference going after these guys.”
“There’s a lot of dirt on Alderman Anderson, Blake. He seems directly involved with the disappearances.”
Jax leaned against the shooting booth, his expression turning serious. "According to my sources, he’s building up to something big at a charity gala in a few days. He’s using the gala as a front for illegal activities."
Blake gripped his gun tighter. “I'd rather be out there on the streets, taking down the thugs who are hurting people right now.'"
Nash clapped a hand on Blake's shoulder. 'I know you're impatient. Look, taking down thugs is one thing, but to make a real difference, we have to go after the big fish."
“Yeah, I know. Don't worry, I’m in,” said Blake, though his voice lacked enthusiasm. "But let's not forget about the people suffering on the streets while we're chasing politicians."
"That's why we’re doing it, brother,” said Jax kindly. “And with your skills and our intel, we'll bring this bastard down and find out what’s going on with all these women."
Blake nodded, then fired another perfect shot. "Damn straight. For Chloe."
"For Chloe," Nash and Jax echoed, their voices filled with resolve.
At the very moment Blake hit the next bullseye, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the screen, seeing an unfamiliar number. Intrigued, he removed his black ear defenders and answered the call, stepping away from the firing range.
It was a woman. She spoke urgently, with a tremor of fear. Her voice was like a little honeybee, small but full of energy and intensity. And then she told him her name.
“Savannah . . . Sweet ?” he repeated as he looked back at his brother, Jax, finally getting a bullseye and fist-pumping the air.
“Yes,” said the honeybee. “That’s me.”
Blake couldn’t help himself from making a big deal out of her name. It was just so . . . cute. He had no idea if the girl on the end of the line was a Little or not, but with that voice and that name, his Daddy radar was already kicking into gear.
He interrogated Savannah about the reason for her call, making sure it wasn’t a hoax or someone trying to get information about Paladin Security, but she sounded truthful enough. The anxiety in her voice made something coil in the pit of his stomach.
Savannah told him she was an investigative journalist, which reassured him a little. If she was investigating his security firm, she wouldn’t have been upfront about her job like that. Then, when she mentioned that “bad people” were after her, he felt his jaw clench. He had to help her. She wouldn’t tell him where she was, which pissed him off, but they arranged a meet at the beach tomorrow afternoon.
The second he came off the phone, he approached his younger brother.
"Jax, look up this woman for me—Savannah Sweet," Blake said after hanging up, his gut telling him there was something significant about her.
"Already on it," Jax replied, pulling out his phone and tapping away. Within moments, he looked up with a mix of concern and curiosity in his green eyes. "She's had a hard life, Blake. Grew up in foster care, has a history of suspicious injuries, and she's written a bunch of controversial articles exposing criminal activities in the city."
Blake’s spine stiffened. “Suspicious injuries?”
Jax nodded. “Several trips to the ER over the years. Bone fractures, bruising, a cracked rib.”
“Fuck,” said Blake, rubbing his temple. “I've got a bad feeling about this. I bet that girl’s in real trouble.”
“I’ll send you over the files I have on her,” said Jax. “Social security number, address, online footprints. It'll all be with you shortly.” His ability to hack into people’s lives at the few presses of a button never failed to astound Blake. In anyone else’s hands, this kind of power would be dangerous. Luckily, Jax had a sense of integrity that was so strong it couldn't be shaken. He always used his powers for good. “In the meantime,” his brother continued, “here’s her picture.”
A single photo on Nash's phone screen stopped Blake in his tracks. Savannah Sweet, her green eyes fierce and determined, stared back at him from beneath a tumble of curly auburn hair. A smattering of freckles danced across her nose, lending her an air of vulnerability that tugged at something deep within him. He felt an immediate, fierce protectiveness surge through him.
“She reminds me of someone . . .” he mused quietly, though he couldn’t remember who.
“All your ex-girlfriends, probably,” joked Nash.
“What a comedian,” said Blake, rolling his eyes.
Nash was right in one sense, though. Blake did have a thing for redheads. This girl here—Savannah—looked nothing like his exes, though. No offense to his exes, who all had their good points, but Savannah looked way deeper, way more complicated than any of them. And for some reason, Blake had always been drawn to complicated.
"Seems like she's been fighting battles her whole life," Nash said, picking up on Blake's fascination.
Blake nodded. He needed to make sure she was safe—starting right now.
"Guys, I need to go," Blake announced abruptly, pocketing his phone and picking up his gear. His brothers exchanged glances but didn't protest.
"Don’t forget tomorrow morning, Blake," Nash warned.
Blake stopped in his tracks, turning. “I’ll never forget,” he snapped. Then he strode toward the exit, thoughts churning.
He wasn’t going to let another young woman come to harm on his watch.
***
Blake parked his truck a discreet distance from Savannah's apartment building, the shadows swallowing him as he settled in for a long night.
Her apartment building was in West Garfield Park. Blake knew this square mile of the city well. There was more gun violence here than anywhere else in the city—a shooting roughly every other day. Two-thirds of the murder victims here were under thirty. In Blake’s line of work, you had to know facts like these.
Facts that stopped you sleeping at night.
The building was a rundown brick structure with peeling paint and broken windows. A flickering streetlight cast eerie shadows on the graffiti-covered walls. The distant sound of sirens filled the air, a constant reminder of the dangers that lurked around every corner. Cars zoomed by, their engines roaring and tires screeching on the potholed road.
Blake kept his eyes trained on Savannah’s top-story window, his gaze unwavering. At around midnight, he caught a glimpse of movement in her apartment. His adrenaline spiked, and he readied himself to spring into action. But then he saw a small woman appear at the window in pink pajamas, clutching a stuffed animal to her chest.
Savannah.
His heart clenched with unexpected tenderness at the sight of her. In that instant, he knew. He would bet his entire life savings she was a Little.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, rubbing his tired eyes. "What have you gotten mixed up with, Savannah?"
She disappeared from view, then reappeared with what looked like a glass of milk. She drank it in small, considered sips, all the while looking out of the window, her gaze fixed skyward. It was impossible to see the stars with all these streetlamps, but it looked as though she was trying her best. Then, she walked away again, leaving Blake staring at the empty window.
***
Blake yawned as he stood beside Nash and Jax, the three brothers forming a somber triangle around the cold, gray headstone.
“Is our sister’s grave boring you, Blake?” asked Nash irritably.
Blake grunted. “Of course not, asshole. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Nash rolled his eyes. “Who you fucking this time? Redhead number one or redhead number two?”
Blake gritted his teeth. Today was not the day to fight with his brothers.
The graveyard was in a quiet part of the city, but it wasn’t a beautiful place. It was overgrown, with a view of an industrial park. Chloe deserved better, Blake thought bitterly, his eyes tracing the engraved date of her death.
He swallowed hard. "We all failed her."
"Hey, man," Jax said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I know today is tough, but we're in this together, alright? We made a promise to Chloe, and we'll keep it."
"Totally," Nash agreed, his voice thick with emotion. "Three years on, and we’ve achieved so much already. Saved good lives. Ended bad ones. We’ll never stop fighting. Doing what has to be done."
Blake laughed grimly. “Achieved so much? Are you fucking kidding me? There’s people dying out there every day. Innocent people. We’re barely making a dent.” His gaze flicked toward his parents’ headstones now. How had three of his family members died already? Every day, he vowed to kill every one of the bastards who’d caused it to happen.
“We’re building up to it,” said Nash. “Once we get to the heart of this city’s corruption and take down some of the major players, the whole system will start to collapse. You remember our goal, right? Stamp out needless violence and gang activity in the city for good?”
Blake nodded, forcing a smile for his brothers' sake, but inside, the weight of their mission pressed painfully against his chest. Some days, it just felt impossible. A couple of the gang members who’d been involved in the shootout that inadvertently killed his parents were serving time in jail, while others roamed free, god-knows-where. As for Chloe and how she’d died—well, they didn’t have a lot of leads.
"I just hope it’s possible,” said Blake.
“Of course it is,” snarled Nash. “You better not be flaking out on us, brother.”
Blake gritted his teeth. “I'm sick of trying to go after the politicians. It almost never works. They have too much power, too many connections. I don't want to get so caught up in that stuff that we neglect the people who need us right now.”
“This is how we help the people who need us,” Nash shot back.
Blake gritted his teeth. Nash, as a former DEA agent, loved going after the kingpins, the guys who were at the center of the web. Blake had spent enough time in special ops in his military days to know that sometimes taking out the enemy was less about going after the big dogs and more about protecting the little guys. He'd seen enough soldiers die for the sake of bringing down the big names, and he couldn't help but think that maybe their efforts would be better spent on the smaller battles, the ones that saved lives.
And personally, he’d rather kill a thousand of the sneering, lowlife assholes on the streets than waste his time on one crooked politician.
He sighed. He was in a shitty mood today.
The wind whispered through the trees, chilling Blake to the bone as he stood with his brothers before Chloe's grave.
"Here and now, we renew our vow," Nash said, his voice low and solemn. "To protect the vulnerable and defend those who can't fight for themselves."
"Whatever it takes," Jax added with a nod.
"Agreed," Blake murmured, his eyes never leaving Chloe's headstone.
He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t get Savannah out of his head this morning. The thought of her, alone and possibly in danger, gnawed at him. He couldn't shake the image of her at her window, wearing those pink pajamas, clutching her stuffie, sipping her milk—so small, so fragile.
"Alright, time to head to the Haven for our annual toast," Jax said, breaking the silence. "You coming, Blake?"
Blake shook his head. “No can do. I’m meeting Savannah.”
Nash raised an eyebrow, concern etching his features. "You've been a bit off lately, brother. How are you so sure Savannah’s case is urgent? She told you she wasn’t in immediate danger. She just wants backup for an investigation. We always celebrate the anniversary together. Keeps us focused on our goals. Plus, we need to talk about this gala. There are—"
"Don’t talk to me about remaining focused on our goals," Blake blurted. “I’m more focused than either of you. Protect and defend, right? Well, that’s what I’m doing.”
Nash sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fine, but if it turns out to be less of a priority than the gala, you need to tell Savannah she’s gonna have to wait a few days.”
“We need you, bro,” added Jax, ever the peacemaker.
"Trust me," Blake said with conviction, his gaze returning to Chloe's grave. "I'll be there when it counts. For Chloe. For us."
As Nash and Jax headed for the Haven, Blake sighed. He knew the importance of their mission, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there were more immediate threats to address.
As he set off to meet Savannah, Blake felt a sense of purpose he hadn't experienced in a while. This was the kind of direct help he'd been craving—a chance to protect someone who needed it right now. With a heavy heart and resolute determination, he set off to meet Savannah, unaware of just how much his world was about to shift on its axis.