3. 3 – Maverick
“Y ou’re late.”
Ryder rolls his eyes as he swaggers across the room, collapsing dramatically into the seat at the end of the long wooden dining table. “I told you, I wasn’t hungry.”
I raise my eyebrows at him as he tugs a plate of roast lamb towards him, dragging half onto his plate. Thankfully the staff never take him at his word. The man is a black hole when it comes to food. I don’t even know where he puts it.
“Blame Enzo,” Ryder says. Or at least I think he does. His voice is a little muffled by the sheer amount of food he’s shoveling into his mouth.
“For you being hungry?” I slide some meat onto my own plate, glancing at the door. There’s no sign of him.
“For being late.” Ryder sighs. “He was very dramatic over the whole bike issue. Did a bat impression on the end of my bed.”
“I don’t even know what to say to that.”
He waves a lazy hand. “It’s fine. I threw a dick towel at his face and that made him move.”
The fondant potato I’ve just taken a bite of gets lodged in my throat, and I choke, grabbing my wine and taking a large swig. Swallowing the lump down painfully, I slump back in my chair. “Ryder.”
“Maverick,” he mimics. “Chill out. I’m here, aren’t I? Enzo will be along shortly, once he finishes his little murder mission downstairs.”
I frown into my plate. Enzo’s little missions , as Ryder likes to call them, are becoming a more and more frequent occurrence. And as much as I understand his reasons… I worry.
Killing leaves a stain on your soul, whatever the motive behind it.
I should know.
And Enzo’s soul was never the purest to begin with.
Parking that discussion until he’s actually in the room, I focus on the day’s events. “I called Benoit. I’ll return the diamonds tomorrow night, at Parkers.”
Ryder perks up immediately. “I might come with you.”
I slant my head. “I’m not sure he’ll appreciate our methods, so if you come, don’t tell him exactly how you acquired it.”
He shudders. “He should be thanking me. I have no idea what he saw in that woman.”
“Clearly, enough to gift her a ten-million-dollar necklace.”
He points his fork at me. “But not enough to let her keep it when his wife found out about his little tête-à-tête.”
I acknowledge the truth in his words with a wave. “Still. A tidy profit for us, and we can focus on the Moore case now.”
Ryder grimaces, his lips twisting in distaste. “John Martinez gives me the creeps, and Ethan Moore isn’t any better. He’s got a membership at Club X.”
The city nightclub is notorious for catering to any and all tastes, including those of the illegal kind. “Try and get some footage. All Martinez wants is something to embarrass him. Should be plenty of material there.”
A grimace twists Ryder’s face. “Art dealers at war. I wonder what Moore did to fuck him over.”
“Not our problem. He’s paying the money, so we’ll deliver the goods.”
For a moment, I wonder what my father would think, if he could see his private investigation firm now. Our methods are darker now than when he first took me under his wing, teaching me everything he knew from his years in the police force and then with the FBI.
Ryder finishes his second plate with a heavy sigh. “Is Angela bringing dessert?”
I’m about to point out – again – that he said he didn’t want any food at all and he’s damned lucky that our housekeeper knows him well enough to cook a mountain of food anyway – when my phone buzzes with an unknown number.
Swiping it, I put it to my ear as I stand, gesturing to the door. Ryder shrugs, and as I walk out, he’s already leaning in to help himself to yet another helping.
“Is this Brooks PI?”
My blood starts to fizz, adrenaline kicking in at the urgency in the man’s voice as I make my way into my office and settle behind my desk, switching to the hands free and tugging my laptop towards me. “It is.”
By the time we wrap things up an hour later, I’m feeling the same sense of urgency.
Ryder shoves his head around the door. “Do I detect a job?”
I nod, pushing the screen towards him as he steps inside. “Abby Millers. Disappeared three days ago. Her boyfriend had been causing some trouble – the father thinks he’s a dealer and he’s got her wrapped up in it. Name’s Ed Sanderson.”
Ryder grins, and it’s a savage thing. “One for Enzo, then.”
I hesitate. Another case to blacken his soul. He won’t stop at finding the girl.
He won’t stop until Ed Sanderson is split into so many pieces, even his ghost won’t have a chance at finding peace.
Finally, I nod. We need him. And at least having this as an outlet stops him from looking elsewhere.
As I make my way downstairs, the desperate screaming I picked up on earlier has been replaced by a wet-sounding gurgle.
“Such a beautiful sound,” a deep voice murmurs. “I wonder what would happen if—,”
Even I wince at the agony in the sound that follows, but Enzo only hums, a strange delight underscoring his muttered words.
“Shhhh,” he’s whispering as I walk into the room. He’s crouched in front of a weeping male, his grip almost tender as he carves another letter into his face.
I know he knows I’m here, but he doesn’t stop. Antonio’s eyes flicker wildly between me, the open door, and his own death.
“There, now.” Enzo stands up, admiring his handiwork. “It’s important not to forget, don’t you think?”
Antonio strains against the metal chains binding him to the tilted upright table as Enzo pulls the mirror across and holds it up. A wild scream breaks out from beneath the gag when he sees the shape of his face.
Enzo grabs his chin, forcing his face towards the glass. “Pretty faces get the pretty girls, Antonio. That’s what you always said, wasn’t it? Except Juliana wasn’t quite as pretty as she used to be, not by the time you finished with her.”
The man’s eyes are locked onto his face as he continues screaming, tears mingling with the blood and slices marring olive skin.
I lean back against the wall, my arms crossed. I might have concerns about the impact this has on Enzo, but I have no qualms whatsoever about the men he brings below our home.
Not a single one of them is a victim.
My brother strolls to his cabinet. “She’ll forget you, eventually, you know. The scarring will heal, and she’ll adapt. She’s strong, Juliana. Not like you.”
He selects a small bottle painstakingly, giving it a little shake as he turns back to Antonio, who’s watching him with a dawning terror as Enzo holds up the acid bottle.
“But you? You’ll never forget.”
When the screaming and sizzling of skin peeling from flesh has faded into the cold, gray silence that death leaves behind, I step out of the shadows. Enzo whistles as he scrubs his hands under the faucet.
“Come to watch the show?” His words bounce off the stainless steel walls around us, walls that are currently smattered with red but soon to be cleaned off, ready for a new victim. “Maybe one of these days you’ll join in.”
“Perhaps.” We both know that I’ve been tempted. Some of the darkness Enzo faces… some would call him a vigilante. Others, a psychopath. Maybe both are true.
But it’s undeniably justice, too, for the women and girls who slip under the radar of the emergency services, too overworked and underpaid to overly care when women from the wrong side of town get hurt.
Sometimes the streets police themselves , one of my old, tired colleagues said to me once over a beer.
Maybe they do. And sometimes, we do it for them.
I watch the muscles in Enzo’s back ripple, the movement making the tattoos across his skin dance under the amber light from the single swinging lightbulb before my eyes move to the remains of what used to be Antonio.
All very dramatic.
I turn my gaze away. “Might have a new job.”
Enzo stills, and I can almost taste his interest in the air. He knows I wouldn’t bother coming down unless it was something where his particular skills could be of use.
I outline the brief Abby Millers’ father gave to me, and Enzo grunts, throwing down the cloth he’s using to wipe himself over. “Sounds pretty simple. Daughter runs off with loser boyfriend of her own free will and daddy doesn’t like it.”
I roll the words around my mouth before releasing them. Sometimes, I fucking hate the darkness of this world. “The last time he managed to track her down before they disappeared again, Sanderson had branded his name into her collarbone.”
Enzo pauses, his lips pursing. “Well.”
His interest is piqued. Job done, I open my phone and forward the email Millers sent after our discussion to both Enzo and Ryder. “Go through it. We’ll look at the plan tomorrow.”
He nods. His eyes aren’t on me though. They’re on the phone in my hand, and I close it off, turning the background image dark as I turn to go back upstairs. There’s plenty of security cameras in that part of town I can start with.
“Mav.” His voice stops me with one foot on the stairs. “You can’t save them all, brother.”
That’s why he spends his days here, slowly cleansing the city of the scum that dwells beneath it. Justice for the ones we were too late to save.
My grip tightens on the phone in my hand. Silently, I continue up the steps.
Tell me something I don’t know.