Chapter 2
2
KING
M y desk phone rang, and I stopped talking to Echo and frowned. That phone was a direct line to the guard shacks at the front and side entrances to the compound.
Matteo was on guard duty. He'd taken us up on the offer to work at Hellbound Studio three months ago. I’d suggested he take some time to get to know the brothers here before choosing to be a prospect. He’d respected my honesty about the whole situation and took my advice. After a month, he asked to be a prospect, and I granted his request to join the ranks. We’d all taken a liking to him and had no problem with him becoming a prospect.
He was twenty-five, but he had a solid head on his shoulders and took shit seriously, so I was surprised he called for the third time in half an hour.
“She’s still there?” I asked when I picked up.
Cerberus lifted his head at my tone, but with one command, he relaxed and lay back down.
“Yes, sir,” Matteo sighed. “Wasn’t gonna call again, but…”
“But what?” I growled. Apparently, some girl had driven up to the gate and asked to see me. I didn’t know her, and I was in the middle of a difficult job, so I told him to send her away. The next time he called was ten minutes later, informing me that she wouldn’t leave and was demanding—quite adamantly—to meet with me. He said she swore she had information I would want to hear. I’d told him to get her number and tell her I’d call when I had the time.
“She’s crying, Prez.”
I barked a laugh and shook my head. “Seriously, kid? You’re interrupting me because some girl is crying?”
“Yes,” he admitted. There was a moment of hesitant silence before he added, “I’m not trying to be insubordinate, but I don’t think even you would turn her away like this.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I grunted. “I’ll send someone with balls to take care of it.” Looking at Blaze, I quickly explained the situation and sent him outside. Then I spoke to Matteo again. “Thin ice, prospect,” I threatened.
To my surprise, he sighed in relief. “Worth it if I don’t have to say no to her again.”
Shaking my head, I muttered an expletive as I hung up. I didn’t understand how any woman could convince Matteo they were worth risking my wrath.
My road captain, Echo, and Kevlar, our sergeant at arms, were sitting at a round conference table set up on the right side of my office. Kevlar had stopped speaking, and Echo quit typing on his laptop when I answered the phone. “The fuck?” Echo asked, clearly as perplexed as Kevlar and I.
I shrugged. “No idea, but I don’t have time for that bullshit. Tell me about The Company going after our client.”
The man we were giving a new identity to was a whistleblower. A former employee of a company that manufactured and sold guns and ammunition. Our client had uncovered information that they were selling to warlords and drug kingpins. Now there was a hit out on him, so he’d come to us for help.
Wizard had gathered all the info, but Kevlar—a former SEAL and munitions expert—was going over some of the finer details on The Company’s process when Blaze strolled back into the room.
His expression was confident, but an underlying wariness put me on alert.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re about to piss me the fuck off, Citizen?” I snarled.
Blaze didn’t flinch, but the slight wariness didn’t disappear either.
“I think you need to meet the girl.”
My already shitty mood plummeted. “Am I surrounded by a bunch of pussies?” I snapped. “You couldn’t send some chick packing?”
Blaze’s eyes narrowed. “Matteo was right. You want to face her tears and send her away, go for it.”
“For fuck’s sake.”
“But that’s not why I think you should hear her out.”
I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue because I was reaching the point when I was gonna shoot someone.
“Don’t know why for sure. Just an instinct.”
Blaze’s gut had rarely, if ever, been wrong. We’d known each other since we were punk kids doing stupid shit out on the streets of Riverstone. I’d been in the system since I was three, and Blaze had a shitty home situation.
Pierce had seen something in us both. He taught us how to ride and encouraged us to clean up our acts and get an education. He’d told us that the Hounds of Hellfire would be our family if that was what we wanted.
He’d been right. Whoever said blood was thicker than water had no clue what it meant to be in an MC. It was a brotherhood, and we were loyal to the club and to each other in a way that shared DNA could never compete with.
“And she asked for Connor Kingsley, not King,” my VP tossed out.
“Fine,” I seethed. “Waste of my fucking time.”
“We’ll see,” Blaze mumbled.
He walked out the door, then returned a minute later, leading a young woman with long, honey-blond curls floating around her. I was astonished when my fingers itched to run through the silky-looking strands.
“Stella Ford,” Blaze introduced her. “This is the president of the Hounds of Hellfire Motorcycle Club.”
“Connor Kingsley?” she asked. Her voice was smooth and husky at the same time, and it sent a little shiver down my spine. What the fuck?
She looked directly at me, and when my eyes locked with her brown eyes, my dick twitched. Before I could think better of it, I scanned her from head to toe. Her tan skin looked natural rather than colored by the sun. Her dark eyes were rimmed with even darker lashes, her cheeks were high and plump, and her mouth…the full, plush lips would make a pornstar jealous.
She was petite but with mouthwatering curves. Big tits, round and wide hips—made for breeding—shapely legs that would feel amazing wrapped around me and?—
WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?
Did I just think about knocking her up? My cock swelled, and I scowled, pissed as hell by my reaction to this girl. I didn’t have time for this bullshit. Or the fury building inside me because of how close Blaze stood to her.
“Get the fuck out,” I commanded.
Stella frowned and turned as if to leave.
“Everyone but you,” I grunted, pointing at her.
She glanced around at my brothers as they stood, her body coiled with unspent energy, but her expression was blank.
The boys filed out of the office, throwing curious glances her way.
Blaze was the last to move toward the door, but he stopped and turned around when I said his name.
I’d noticed the lack of wetness on Stella’s cheeks and guessed that she’d played the boys. Naturally, I was gonna give him shit over it, especially after forcing me to meet with her. “Those tears of hers are really heartbreaking.”
Blaze glanced at Stella, and his lips pressed together irritably. “They dried up real fucking fast when I brought her through the gate.”
As pissed as I was about the situation, I wanted to laugh. I’d never seen him look so conflicted, torn between her clear manipulation and his instincts.
She shrugged. “A girl’s gotta use the tools in her arsenal to get things done.”
He was obviously furious over his predicament, and a chuckle slipped out.
He glared at me, and I smirked, then jerked my chin up, silently ordering him to leave.
My gaze was drawn back to the beauty standing before me. Damn, she would look amazing on the back of my motorcycle…or riding me while I sat on it. I shook my head, trying to dispel the erotic images.
My mind wasn’t focused, so I didn’t notice Cerberus move until he was right in front of her. Worried that he would scare the fuck out of Stella, I opened my mouth to give him a command, but it got stuck in my throat. I was dumbstruck when he plopped his butt on the ground, wagging his tail and nudging her hand with his nose.
“Hi, cutie,” Stella whispered, bending down to rub his head and scratch behind his ears. He practically preened and made a low sound of appreciation that was nothing like the aggressive growl he used with my brothers when he wanted their affection.
Another “what the fuck” seemed appropriate, but having asked myself that so many times in the past two minutes, I tried to think of another phrase that would convey the same thing.
But all I could come up with was, “What the fuck?”
I realized I’d said it out loud when Stella’s head popped up, and she glowered at me. “What’s his name?”
“Cerberus.”
Her brow furrowed, and she glanced down at the teddy bear that used to be a terrifying guard dog.
“Like the three-headed dog that guards hell?”
I nodded.
“That’s not very nice.”
Rolling my eyes, I snapped a command at Cerberus that had him trotting back over to lie at my side.
Because I was trying hard to ignore my body’s visceral reaction to her, my voice came out a little harsher than I’d intended when I asked, “Why are you here?”
“That’s a very good question,” she retorted as she closed the distance between us. When she reached my desk, she pulled a letter from her purse and held it out.
“This is from my father, Joseph Ford.”
I stiffened at hearing the name. Joseph and I had worked together extremely closely while at the CIA and became good friends. But when I left The Company, he was still an active operative, so we’d had to limit contact because we suspected my cover might have been blown.
He was the only person I trusted with my life outside the Hounds of Hellfire. When shit had hit the fan, he’d been the one I told of my suspicions, and he’d helped me find the truth that led to me walking away from the job I loved and had been damn good at.
If someone was saying his name to me, they likely uncovered my connection to him. Which meant there was a good chance I would have to kill the sexy-as-fuck woman standing in front of me.
“Your father?” I repeated skeptically. “Why should I believe you?”
Stella didn’t flinch at my question, a good sign.
“He warned me that you might not and told me to ask Guardian to read the letter.”
There was nothing, not one thing , that would have made me trust her other than calling me Guardian. It had been my code name during the most top secret missions. Even within the group of people running the op, they knew Guardian and they knew Connor, but only a handful of them knew they were the same person.
Joseph had been my point of contact.
Silently, I took the letter, blinking in surprise when our hands brushed and an electric current sizzled between us.
“Sit,” I ordered, gesturing to the couch. Without waiting to see if she obeyed, I opened the envelope and took out the letter. But before unfolding it, I spotted something inside. To most people, it would have looked like a simple thumb drive, but I knew the real purpose of the item. It was an electronic key—one of the most completely secure ways to store highly sensitive information. Pretty much the only way to take information off a skiff room server.
I set the device aside to give it to Wizard and turned my attention to the letter.
Guardian,
If you’re reading this letter, then my latest mission has gone sideways, and I’ve been burned.
“Fuck,” I whispered.
Who knows what story they’ve concocted to put me on an official most wanted list and an unofficial hit list, but with my real identity compromised, I’m in deep shit.
When the CIA issued a burn notice on someone, they sent an official statement to other agencies alerting them that the asset was unreliable for one or several reasons—often bullshit and lies—and must be officially disavowed. It was essentially a directive for the recipient to disregard or "burn" all information derived from that agent.
It wasn't like the movies and TV shows. They didn’t freeze your assets, destroy your credit, and basically wipe away any proof of your former life. However, there was definitely no record of your employment with any government agency.
And sometimes—I had a feeling this was one of them—the burn notice included an indirect kill order. Though the agencies would never admit it.
Knowing I needed all the information before I decided on an action, I kept reading.
I can’t trust anyone in The Company, and besides my daughter, there is no one in this world I trust more than you.
Obviously, you’ve met my daughter, Stella, since she is the only one who would have delivered this note.
She is the most important person in this world to me. Above all, I’m begging you to protect her.
I’ve spent years giving her the tools to handle any blowback that she might encounter from my job, but I can’t stomach the idea of her alone and putting herself at risk. She’s brave, strong, loyal, and stubborn as fuck. She’ll run straight at the danger if she thinks she can save me, and no amount of pleading in a letter will sway her.
So I’m asking for a pretty big favor, Connor. Keeping Stella safe won’t be easy, but I know you’re the only one who is strong enough, and that I trust, to accomplish the task.
She is your priority, so when I give you the rest of the information, please don’t forget that.
The official details of the op are on the key, along with everything I’ve “unofficially” gathered. Someone is betraying operatives, and I fear it’s from deep within The Company. I haven’t been able to get to the initial source, but my suspicions have led me to one conclusion that I know will test your resolve to do the first thing I’ve asked of you.
When we took out Trailblazer, we were wrong in thinking that it ended there.
I nearly dropped the letter when I read those words. We’d been wrong? Every day since I walked away from the CIA, I’d felt closure because we’d found and destroyed the man responsible for my failure. Now, Joseph was telling me that the motherfucker was only one branch on a tree made of corruption?
Everything is on the encrypted key. The password is the nickname we gave the safehouse built on desecrated ground.
You’ve put your trust in me more times than I can count, and now, I’m putting my faith in you.
Wayfarer
I reread the letter twice while clutching the key in my fist. It was practically burning a hole through my hand.
The need to know the information contained on it was almost consuming me. But the second Joseph had asked me for help, I’d made a silent vow to do whatever it was. That meant securing Stella first.
Then I’d give the key to Wizard, along with the password. One corner of my mouth lifted as I remembered that moment with my friend.
The safehouse in Hungary had been built on a former cemetery. We stumbled upon the history of the land by accident one night when we overheard a conversation while having a drink at a nearby bar. The whole thing was complete hearsay, but it amused us to believe it was true.
The graves had been robbed so often that the clergy finally dug everyone up and moved them to another, more secure resting place. Technically, they’d moved the bodies without the families’ permission, which made the land “desecrated” ground.
Hungarian is a hard as fuck language to learn, but Joseph and I had both become fluent, so I had come up with the ridiculous idea to name the safehouse with arguably the longest word in Hungarian— Megszentségteleníthetetlenségeskedéseitekért . Roughly translated, it meant “For your unholy deeds.”
I’d been young and new to my career, not yet jaded by the darkness I would become familiar with in my job. It had seemed hilarious at the time, and years later, it was a moment I often recalled when I needed to think about something other than the shit that happened in a world most people didn’t even know was all around them. Considering what was on that key, it was the perfect choice for a password.