Chapter 6 – Val
“Where are we with the Dickson case?” I asked Luka as we walked down the hallway, shoes clicking softly against the floor.
“He’s still adamant about closing the deal,” Luka answered, flanking me, fingers adjusting his tie. “Says it’s not worth his while, considering the recent incident with the photograph online.”
My eyes narrowed, a glint of disappointment lacing my tone. “Son of a bitch,” I murmured.
“The dick’s too scared to risk investing in the waterfront project—he’s been a pussy this whole time anyway,” Luka added.
Luka was my most trusted lieutenant, my right-hand man, and the only one who knew all of my secrets. Trust was a strong word that people in my world didn’t dare throw around. But Luka had proved his loyalty more times than necessary.
The man had killed for me, sent thousands to an early grave to defend my honor. He’d jumped in front of a bullet to save my life three times within that last decade.
Luka, with his genius mind and free spirit, had helped me secure more deals within the past four years than I ever would’ve achieved on my own.
He was as smart as he was ruthless, making him a valuable asset to me and the organization I respected.
Luka wasn’t just the muscles that kept my operation grounded; he was also the brain that kept it going.
I trusted no one except him because no one had shown me his level of loyalty and respect. Luka was one of a kind, and there was no one else I’d rather have my back than him.
“And Rodriguez?” I asked, rounding a corner, a hand in my pocket.
“It appears our Mexican allies aren’t too comfortable with the photo either,” he replied. Then his voice dipped, a flicker of relief lacing his tone. “But there’s a silver lining. I think we dodged a bullet. Here, check this out.” He handed me a file.
I accepted it mid-stride without looking in his direction. “What’s this?”
“It’s everything we have on their mess with the Feds,” he said. “Half their crew’s in federal custody, and the rest are being watched like hawks. If we tied ourselves to them, we’d be sinking with their ship.”
I skimmed through the pages, and according to the information on this document, several high-ranking members of Rodriguez’s crew had been apprehended in a DEA sting. Their organization was tied to drug trafficking and human trafficking.
Their trucks were being tracked, their phones tapped, and their warehouses and docks were under tight surveillance. The organization was in deep trouble, and it’s a good thing we didn’t go down with them.
“The Yakuza is still on board with the deal, though,” Luka said. “They don’t seem to give two fucks about the photo online. All they care about is the profit they stand to gain.”
I thought for a moment, recalling my last encounter with the leader of the Yakuza clan. The man was a pain in my ass, always disagreeing with all of my suggestions.
“Hiroshi is a hard man to deal with,” I said, handing the file back to Luka. “But I can handle him.”
“None of this would’ve happened if that little shutterbug didn’t take those photos and post them on her blog,” Luka added, then paused a bit, his eyes darting toward me. “Do you believe her? Do you believe she’s innocent?”
I stopped in my tracks, catching the faint sound of soft footsteps. It was as though someone was tiptoeing, like their movement was cautious. My eyes squinted, brows knitting together.
Luka stopped beside me, his voice dropping lower than average. “What is it?”
I lifted my hand in the air, a gesture that told him to speak no further. He obeyed, watching me in silence, his eyes tracing my gaze.
A few paces ahead, she rounded a corner with her back against us, her movement quiet and cautious. She looked around, as if to be sure there were no hidden cameras or watchful eyes in the hallway. And the moment she turned in our direction, she flinched, her breath catching in her throat.
Wren froze, wide-eyed, her chest heaving slowly as she shifted her weight from one foot to another. Her hand flew into her hair, fingers tucking back the same golden lock three times in a row. Her gaze dropped to the floor for a fleeting moment before raising her head again.
“Oh, would you look at that,” Luka began, chuckling. “Isn’t it the little shutterbug who almost cost us a fortune?”
She knitted her brows and clenched her jaw. “It’s easier to put the blame on the little shutterbug than face your own screw-ups. But then again, I guess accountability isn’t really your strong suit, now is it?” Her voice was low but audible.
Luka’s cocky grin gradually faded, his expression darkening by the second. “You should watch your tongue, shutterbug. People break just as easily as cameras do.”
His threat was crystal clear, hinting at the fact she’d struck a nerve, something she’d proven to be very good at.
“It’s okay.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Not everyone can handle the truth.”
His face contorted into a frown. “Say that again, I dare you.” He drew closer.
“Enough,” I said softly, gripping his arm before he could take another step.
He stopped, seething with a clenched jaw.
“Leave us,” I ordered him, calm and polite.
Luka’s scowl deepened, and he hesitated for a short while before walking away with a bruised ego.
“Your friend has some serious anger issues,” she said, a faint, self-satisfied grin playing on her lips as she watched him leave. Facing me, she added, “I know a therapist downtown.”
I approached her, my eyes unreadable, my gaze unwavering. “Careful with the sharp tongue of yours. Wit is a sharp blade, but one wrong cut, and you’ll bleed dry.” I stopped in front of her.
She lifted her head to face me, pausing for a while. “When do I get to leave?” she asked, holding my gaze, her throat wobbling as she swallowed hard.
“You leave if I decide to let you go.” I picked up my pace, moving in the same direction as Luka.
“Wait—if?” There was a strain in her voice that hinted at her displeasure.
I couldn’t care less.
Her bare feet slapped against the floor as she rushed behind me, struggling to catch up. “That wasn’t the agreement. You said you’d let me go when the investigation was over!”
“Agreement?” I scoffed, not slowing down.
“Yes,” she shot back, her voice sharp with conviction. “Or are you not a man of your word?”
That question stopped me cold.
My jaw tightened, and I turned around to face her, watching the glimpse of fear flickering in her gaze.
“Let’s get one thing straight…Wren,” I began, eyes boring into hers. “You’re my prisoner. You’re the girl who recklessly stumbled into my world, exposed my operations, and put a giant bullseye on my back.”
She swallowed hard again, biting the inside of her cheek.
“There is no agreement. There’s only what I say there is, and right now, I’m saying you’re not going anywhere,” I declared, my voice high and cutting.
She glared at me, her expressive hazel eyes shifting between amber and green in the soft hallway light. Her oversized shirt and baggy jeans hid her petite frame, and her golden hair was tied up in a messy bun, a few strands framing her face.
“Kidnapping strangers and playing warden,” she said, staring at me. “You think that’s noble?”
“Do I look like a man who gives a shit about nobility?” I asked, my voice a low growl. “You should be grateful that you’re not still rotting in my dungeon.” I paused, letting the words sink in. “Keep this up, and you’ll end up back there much sooner than you can think.”
Her brows furrowed, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths as she walked away, heading toward her room.
She’s pissed. Good.
However, I was almost certain that that stubborn shutterbug wouldn’t back down; she wouldn’t break easily. There was a fire in her eyes that masked her fear, and that flame was what drew me in like steel to a magnet.
Wren was different from most of the women I’d met: stubborn, relentless, and insufferably defiant. She was proud, and that pride kept her from showing fear. So, she hid behind wit and sharp-tongued sass. However, I could see through her arrogance, through the brave front she put up.
Deep down, she was just a scared little girl, desperate to go home.