37. Lucky
37
LUCKY
T here’s a lot to be said for knowing the right people.
The problem is, the “right people” don’t usually owe you favors—not the kind you can call in without some serious consequences. And right now? I’m all out of favors. But Saxon... he won’t refuse me. He can’t. Not if he’s half the man I think he is.
I punch in his number with unsteady fingers, pacing the length of the dimly lit office where I’ve locked myself away to make this call. Every sound feels amplified in the stillness—the scuff of my boots on the worn concrete, the faint flicker and buzz of a dying fluorescent light above.
Every lead we’ve followed so far has gone nowhere, each one closing in our faces like a slammed door. Now, it’s not just a couple of desperate men trying to bring Allegra and Lula home—it’s everyone. Our partners are breathing down our necks, threatening to take matters into their own hands. I know Jacklyn won’t hesitate to launch her own search party, damn the consequences. And knowing her, that won’t just mean a few phone calls—it’ll mean chaos. I can’t let these women loose in the city-they’ll obliterate everything in their path.
Time is slipping through my fingers, and every second makes this call more urgent, more dangerous.
The phone rings once. Twice. My chest tightens with each passing second. By the fourth ring, I’m gripping the phone so hard that my knuckles ache.
Finally, there’s a click.
“Lucky,” Saxon’s voice comes through, low and gravelly, like he’s halfway through his first cigarette of the day.
“Saxon,” I say, forcing the tension out of my voice. “I need your help.”
A pause. Long enough for me to hear him exhale, the faint crackle of the cigarette in the background.
“You don’t call unless it’s bad,” he says, his tone unreadable.
“It’s bad.” The silence on his end stretches, and my patience snaps before he speaks again.
“Does this have anything to do with the flurry of action on our roads this morning?” he asks.
“Two of our women have been taken by the Albanians. We need to get them back.”
He doesn’t respond right away, and it makes my skin crawl. Saxon’s always deliberate, always calculating, but right now, every second feels like a lifetime.
“That’s what you have police for,” he says finally.
“Yes,” I say, my voice firm. “And I also know you’ve been tracking the Albanians. You’ve been living in their shadow for months. You know where I can find them.”
“And you want me to give you that intel,” he says, more a statement than a question.
“Yes,” I say, desperation bleeding into my voice. “I know you can help me, Saxon. You’ve got the connections, the knowledge, the leverage. You’re the only one who knows enough to actually make a difference right now.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking, Lucky.” His voice hardens, and I can picture him now, standing in some alleyway, cigarette in hand, his face half-hidden in shadow. “I’ve been building this operation for nine months. If I give you what you want, I burn it all to the ground. Everything I’ve worked for will be gone.”
“I don’t care about your operation,” I snap. “This isn’t about you, Saxon. We have two missing women. Both the partners of my brothers.”
It’s unfair of me to throw his work back in his face, but desperate times and all. I know exactly what I’m doing by reaching out to him, and I know the risks I’m asking him to take. But there’s no time to tiptoe around guilt or fairness when lives are on the line.
Saxon is damn good at what he does—so good that no one would ever suspect the truth. To everyone else, he’s just another homeless man lingering on the fringes, blending into the shadows in his threadbare clothes, his scruffy facial hair, and that rough, weathered exterior. He plays the part so well it’s hard to see him as anything else.
But I know better. Beneath the layers of grime and the stooped posture is a cop—one of the best I’ve ever met. He’s patient, methodical, and, most importantly, invisible to the people he’s hunting. That’s what makes him so dangerous to them and so valuable to me.
The problem is, Saxon’s entire operation hinges on staying invisible. The second he breaks cover—if he even considers it—he’s not just burning months of work. He’s putting himself in the line of fire, with no backup and no way out.
And yet here I am, ready to throw all of that into chaos because I need his help. Because if he doesn’t come through, we may never get Allegra and Lula back.
“You don’t know what you’re asking of me, Lucky,” he bites back, and there’s heat in his voice now. “You think I don’t know what’s at stake? You think I don’t know what these bastards are capable of? But I have to look at the bigger picture here.”
“I’m not asking you to do anything! Just give me a location!” I shout. The words echo in the office, bouncing off the walls until they sound like a plea instead of a demand. “Help me, Saxon. I’m not asking for a miracle. I’m asking for a lead. One lead. Just tell me where to start.”
Another silence. This one is heavier, the weight of it pressing down on my chest like a stone.
“I’m not some savior,” he says finally, his voice quieter now. “You want me to give you a name or a location, but that’s not how this works. You blow in there, guns blazing, and it’s not just you they’ll kill. It’ll be me. It’ll be anyone they even think is tied to me.”
I grit my teeth, frustration and fear bubbling up inside me. “I know the risks. I know what I’m asking you to do. But if you don’t help me, Allegra and Lula will die. You know it, and I know it.”
He sighs, and I hear the faint shuffle of movement on his end, like he’s pacing. For a moment, I think he’s going to hang up, that I’ve pushed him too far.
“Lucky,” he says, and there’s something in his voice—resignation, maybe, or regret. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Relief crashes over me, but it’s fleeting. I know what this means for him. I know the line I’ve just forced him to cross.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he mutters. “This doesn’t end with you getting what you want. This ends with someone in a body bag. Maybe more than one person.”
The line goes dead, and I lower the phone, the echo of his words ringing in my ears.
I stand there for a moment, staring at the phone in my hand, the cold concrete beneath my feet grounding me in a way nothing else can.
Saxon will come through. He has to.
Because if he doesn’t...
No. I won’t even let that thought take root.
A bitter laugh threatens to rise, but I swallow it back. Now isn’t the time to doubt. Now is the time to act.
Allegra. Lula. Their names run through my mind like a prayer, but it’s not prayers that are going to save them. It’s action. It’s Saxon, my brothers, and me doing whatever it takes to track them down.
The image of Jacklyn flashes in my mind, unbidden. The defiance in her eyes when she pushes back against anyone trying to box her in, the fire in her voice when she’s angry. It could have been her. It so easily could have been her. Again.
My stomach twists painfully. My mind crosses briefly to the time that she was missing. At the mercy of Daniel Russo, who she didn’t know at the time was her brother. A half-brother that shot and maimed her other brother, Jack. A half-brother intent on killing everything to do with the Vicci line so that he could lay claim to the throne. I shudder when I think of that ugly time in our lives.
Women like Jacklyn—like Allegra and Lula—they’re the kind of people cowards like Altin Kadri target. Kadri doesn’t go after those who can fight back, who can land a blow that breaks bones and egos. No. Men like him thrive on hunting the vulnerable, the ones who shouldn’t have to fight for their safety in the first place.
I grit my teeth and shove the phone into my pocket. Waiting for updates is killing me. Somewhere in this city, my brothers are tearing it apart, searching for Allegra and Lula. But we’re running out of time. I can feel it like a drumbeat in my chest, the rhythm growing louder, faster, harder to ignore.
My fingers twitch at my sides, and every muscle in my body feels like it’s been stretched too tight. If I stay here a second longer, I’ll snap. I don’t have a plan yet, but standing still isn’t an option. Somewhere out there, Kadri has them—or worse, someone else does. And if we don’t find them soon, we’ll be dealing with more than just a kidnapping.
I don’t even want to think about what comes after that.
We have to find them, and I have to do my hardest to help my brothers. Because if the roles were reversed, I know they’d do the same for me.