6. Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Sylvie
Ryder Colton, the owner of No Name Boxing Gym, stopped me before I could walk ten steps into his no-frills, no-drama establishment. I took in the large, clean area featuring three boxing rings, punching bags, and free weights along the back wall.
“What are you doing here, Sylvie?” He looked down at my workout clothes skeptically. Ryder and I went way back. He and my twin cousins, Callum and Declan, got arrested a few times in high school after getting high with a substitute teacher, and later with the head janitor. Ryder’s father eventually sent him off to some military school.
He had a crooked, prominent nose, and a scar across his eyebrow. His intense, unblinking stare made most people uncomfortable. Callum thought Ryder needed to chill out and start smoking marijuana again.
“Hey, Ryder. I’m here to meet Callum.” I patted him on the shoulder.
He eyed me suspiciously. “Why are you really here? And don’t lie to my face while you flash your dimples at me.”
“How rude. I would never do that.” Ryder knew me too well. As he interrogated me, I scanned his gym and spotted Drakos wailing on one of the punching bags in the corner. Drakos wasn’t the only one who could stalk someone. I patted Ryder’s shoulder again as I stepped around him. “Don’t worry, I won’t wreck the masculine feng shui energy of your gym.”
“No shenanigans. I mean it,” he called after me.
I shook my head. “Shenanigans? You talk like an eighty-year-old.”
Drakos straightened when he heard my voice and grabbed the swinging bag. He gave me a wide grin and a once-over as I stood in front of him in black leggings and a tank top.
“Hello, Killer. Are you here to box, or take me up on my shower offer?”
I grabbed the other side of the bag. “Neither. Why is your partner, Roman Fowler, forcing Luna to intern with him?”
He studied me, and his eyes narrowed dangerously as he took me in. “Why do you have a fist-sized bruise on your face?”
I pointed to him. “You first.”
He let go of the bag and stalked me. “What happened? Did one of your cousins do that to you? Did they find out we’ve been talking?”
“What? No, you crazy neanderthal. They’d never hurt me. Argue and embarrass me? Absolutely. But hit me? No fucking way.”
“Then who did?” When my back hit the wall, he bracketed my head with his hands, blocking me in as he studied my injury. He leaned in and carefully ran his fingers across the bruise, and my insides spasmed with anxious lust. Even sweaty, he smelled like testosterone and spice, and I wanted to rub against him and purr like a cat in heat.
“Tell me what happened.” He wasn’t going to let this go.
“Terrance LeBaron and his sycophant, Carver, came by the funeral home the other day, looking for information about their missing members.”
He went rigid. “Were they looking for you ?”
I shook my head. “They wanted to talk with Ezra—or one of the ‘boss men’—and I may have gotten mouthy. Terrance kept misquoting Bible verses. I’m pretty sure he’s a psychopath.”
Drakos tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “He is. Stay away from him. The man has strange ideas about women, and he’s not afraid of authority or consequences.” Drakos pressed against me, drawing me to him. My heart pounded and my insides fluttered as I felt his pecs and hard stomach press against me through my thin clothes.
Swallowing, I met his hooded stare. “What does Roman want with Luna?”
Drakos gazed at me, his eyes scanning my face and then my lips. As he started to lean in, Ryder called my name.
“Fuck,” Drakos bit out.
Ryder appeared, and he eyed us suspiciously. “Sylvie, Declan just texted to ask me if one of my boxing rings is available for him and Fennick to spar. They’re about three minutes away. If your cousins don’t know you’re sleeping with the enemy, you need to make yourself scarce—now.”
Declan was the most affectionate among my Spade cousins, and he and his twin were both too handsome and too skilled at making money for their own good. But Fennick was another matter altogether.
“We can make up some story about how we met. I want your cousins to know we talk so we can keep doing it.”
I slid around Drakos, patting his chest as I went. “If talking is all we’re doing, then it’s not worth Fennick’s wrath. We’re not done with this conversation.”
I felt his eyes on me as I ducked out the back door.
A few days later, I grabbed the wireless gaming controller I’d ordered online and went to check on Camilla. “I don’t know if she’ll see you,” Trina warned as she let me into the apartment.
Their carpet was a bit worn, and they had second-hand, mismatched furniture. But they’d brightened the space with colorful throw cushions and Mexican folk art. Their home usually felt happy and welcoming, but today, sadness and anxiety seemed to linger in the air. I knocked on Camilla’s bedroom door.
“You eat dinner without me, Abuela ,” Camilla called out.
“It’s Sylvie. Can I come in?” She didn’t answer for several long moments.
“I brought you something, and I want to talk to you. Get decent.”
“I’m decent,” she mumbled.
When I opened her door, darkness and stale air greeted me. My eyes adjusted, and I saw her lying in her bed, wrapped up in her comforter like a burrito. Piles of clothes lay on the floor, and a few half-empty water glasses sat on her bedside table. My heart squeezed.
“Hey, honey. You were in the same spot when I came to see you last week. Will you talk to me?”
“I’m tired. Can you come back later?”
My shoulders slumped, and worry and heartache slid through me. She was fading away, and I didn’t know how to help her.
Walking over, I sat on the edge of her bed. “Please talk to me. Your grandma is worried, and your school is going to file a truancy report if you don’t start attending again.”
She curled tighter into herself. “I just… can’t. Not yet.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes. “I brought a new wireless Play Station controller. Will you play with me? I bet your online friends miss you too.” Thanks to my cousins, I was a decent gamer.
“Maybe next time.” Camilla shifted to her side and tucked her arm under her head, and that’s when I saw the small horizontal cuts along her forearm.
My stomach lurched, and I wanted to drag her out of bed and hold her tight, then shake her and scream some life back into her small, gaunt body. If there was a way to bring Samuel LeBaron back to life and torture and kill him slowly this time, I would’ve done it.
Frustration and anger bubbled inside me, but I locked it down and rubbed her back. “Sweetheart, your abuela is kinder and more patient than I am, and you deserve a warning. I’m giving you one more week, and then I’m going to drag you out of this bed and back into your life.” She tightened under my hand, but I just patted her back, got up, and walked out.
After visiting Camilla, I planned to go home but instead found myself standing in front of Drakos’s loft. I rang the buzzer several times to be annoying. Maybe he wasn’t home, or worse, he might not be alone. But we needed to finish our talk about Luna and Roman Fowler.
His neighborhood and residence weren’t what I expected. I knew he lived in an industrial part of town, but his building featured a distinctly urban rustic design with its exposed brick and lead-paned windows. Based on Drakos's attire, profession, and wealth, I envisioned him residing in a high-rise penthouse or a sleek, modern home. His partner, Ivan Knox, lived on the other side of the building, and they’d apparently rehabbed it together. A large garage occupied the first floor, and I wondered what he did with that space.
As I waited, I tapped my foot and stared up at the camera impatiently above the steel door. A few seconds later, the lock snicked open, and the intercom buzzed.
“Hello, Killer. You’ve tracked me down twice in one week. I’m flattered. Come in.” I swung the door open and looked around.
The garage held a full-on mechanic shop with three vintage cars in various stages of repair. Footsteps echoing on the metal staircase to my left caught my attention, and I gazed up to see Drakos coming down dressed in gray sweatpants and a thin white t-shirt that showed off his pecs. It didn’t matter what he wore—Drakos always looked like a damn wet dream.
“I was just starting dinner. Eat with me.”
Spending more time with him than necessary, especially in his own home, was a horrible idea. But he smelled so good, and I was tired and a little heartsick. We also needed to talk, so I let him pull me up the stairs. He pushed open another metal door, and we walked into a large, light-filled space with a modern kitchen at one end and a great room with two plush couches on the other.
I stopped short and looked around. Two thick barn doors hung on the far wall, probably leading to his bedroom and bathroom. The entire space felt airy and well-designed. It wasn’t like anything I’d imagined, and I loved it right away.
He pulled me into the kitchen area. “At the gym, I didn’t have time to ask you what other injuries you have.”
I shifted uncomfortably. “It doesn’t matter.”
He crossed his arms and leaned toward me. “It does fucking matter. What else did they do to you?”
I jerked my shoulder and stared out at the city view. “Carter punched me in the ribs, but it wasn’t as hard as it could’ve been. He had his arm around my neck.”
His jaw went tight, and he hung his head for a few seconds. “You’re going to let me see.” It didn’t sound like a request.
Slowly, he stepped in front of me and lifted my shirt, keeping his gaze fixed on mine until he’d raised it to my chin. Then he looked down at my torso, his eyes narrowing dangerously. My cream-colored lace bra peeked out from beneath my bunched-up shirt, and the sickly purple and green bruise on my ribcage stood out sharply against my pale skin.
Drakos stared at my ribs as he ran his thumb softly across the bruise, his mouth turning down. Finally, he pulled my shirt down, led me to a kitchen stool, and poured us both a glass of wine.
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
So I told him. “Terrance was fishing. I don’t think he suspects me, but he’s getting desperate. His son is his primary concern, but he also asked about Grunge.”
“What exactly did Samuel LeBaron do, Sylvie?”
I stared at him and felt tears gather in the backs of my eyes. “He raped our employee’s granddaughter. She’s fifteen years old, and he took his time and ripped her apart. She’d never–” I couldn’t finish.
“He deserved a worse death,” he murmured as he softly cupped my face in his hands.
My shoulders slumped and I laid my forehead against his chest, then looked up at him. “He did. Her name is Camilla. She’s a sophomore in high school, and she lives with her grandmother who’s been cleaning our mortuary for years. Camilla is on a robotics team at her school, and the Desert Palm Oasis Mortuary sponsors it.”
“You know her.”
I set my wine glass down and cleared my throat. “Yeah. She grew up hanging around the mortuary. I taught her how to play chess, and we worked on her math sometimes while her grandmother cleaned. I think they targeted her because of her affiliation with the Spades. And maybe because of me.”
“How do you know that? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know, but it’s the only thing that makes sense. My cousins have had minor run-ins with a few motorcycle gangs, but nothing to warrant this. If any of them had found out about it first, they would have slaughtered Eightball LeBaron in a very loud and public way.”
“Starting a war,” Drakos finished. “So you took care of the problem yourself.” He slowly wrapped his arms around me as if he didn’t want to spook me.
I held still, savoring the feel of his hard body and his delicious, musky scent. “You’re a believer in do-it-yourself justice, too, it seems.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Samuel LeBaron was a blight, and the world is better off without him. I’ll see if Ivan can hack into Tarrence’s phone or computer so we know what he’s up to.”
I reluctantly stepped back and stared up at him. “Your partner is forcing my foster sister to intern with him. Why?”
His eyebrow went up, and he looked pained. “Luna Cross is your foster sister ? I thought she was just your roommate and a friend of your family. How did that happen?”
“It’s a long story. Something's not right with that internship, and I don't trust Roman Fowler.”
His face went blank, and my heart dropped. “What makes you think he poses a threat?”
I folded my arms. “Men like you and Roman don’t do anything without a reason. This internship is unexpected and doesn’t make any sense. If your law firm were interested in hiring her, or if she wanted to practice corporate law, I could understand. But I think she’s made it clear she doesn’t want to be there.”
He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “Attorneys have to take on a mentor or pay into the Nevada State Bar’s indigent defense fund. If it weren’t Luna, it’d be someone else.”
I blinked slowly. “For the last four years, your law firm did pay into the indigent defense fund to avoid taking on interns. You and your friend Ivan aren’t the only ones who can hack into databases. Call it female intuition, but you’re lying through your teeth, and every time you smile, I feel like checking my back for stab wounds.”
Drakos studied me. “What do you expect me to do?”
“I expect you not to stand by if Roman Fowler plans to harm her. She’s been through more shit than you can imagine, and I won’t allow him—or you—to hurt her.”
Drakos’s eyes went hard. “Don’t kid yourself. I can imagine a lot of shit, and so can Roman.”
I wasn’t surprised by his loyalty to his partner, but I’d hoped he wouldn’t just stand by and do nothing.
“She’s intelligent, courageous, and still kind despite everything her parents put her through. If Roman or anyone in The Firm hurts her, I’ll make it my mission to hurt you back.”
Drakos folded his arms, a cruel, sensual smile playing across his mouth. “You can hurt me anytime, Killer.”
I stared up at him, and my chest squeezed. “Why did I think you were different? Whatever this is between us, we’re done. I can’t be… friends with someone who would stand by while an innocent woman gets hurt.” I pushed my wine glass away and walked out.