Prologue #2
“Second of all,” she plows on. “768 is in the wind. No one knows when or where she’s going to pop up to fight next. Whoever’s controlling her… they’ve got her location locked down tight.”
“Someone must know!”
“Her fights aren’t exactly public knowledge, Blaine! She pops up, beats the shit out of whoever she’s battling, then vanishes with the fucking cash. The cycle repeats.”
“Then we need to get ahead of her.”
Rising to stand, I give Raye my back while I locate a clean, black t-shirt from the chest at the back of my office. We’ve gotten used to bouncing around with no real home or possessions, so I always keep spares on hand.
Competing ideas continue to flit around inside my skull as I eye my other shirt, laying in bloodstained tatters on the metal floor where I ripped it off when I stormed up here.
Our enemies have gotten bold in my absence. Sending a member of their syndicate here to wave a knife around was a poor choice. Lucky for him, his heart gave out before I could finish plucking his severed fingers off.
It isn’t that hard to do once you know how to slice the cartilage just right. Those fingers have already been sent to our rivals as a warning. Nobody messes with the Madden dynasty.
“Blaine! Care to clue me in?”
“I’m still thinking.” Tugging the t-shirt over my head, it covers my ugly quilt of scars. “How well-protected is she while fighting?”
Raye wrinkles her nose. “From what I saw, she doesn’t need protection. Bitch is a fucking hellhound. Those men are her captors, not her guards.”
“And you have no idea where she’ll be fighting next?”
“It’s a big country,” she snarls acidly. “I can’t keep track of every last underground club. If you want to find her, you need a professional tracker.”
“That can be arranged.”
Floral tattoo-covered arms folded, Raye pins me with the stink eye. It’s not my favourite look on her. She’s loyal to a goddamn fault, but nine times out of ten, she’s a massive pain in my backside.
“What are you plotting? Why do you care about her?”
“I don’t care about Ember Lawson,” I quickly deny.
“Then what’s the deal? Why is she so important?”
“Because she’s the key to everything.”
Moving to face the dirt-speckled, floor-to-ceiling warehouse windows, I gaze outside. The metal, crisscrossed slats offer snapshots of the capital’s lawless streets.
This deep into London’s seedy underbelly, we’re surrounded by the industrial beating heart of the glitz and glamour that most associate with this city. Reality is far less romantic.
The United Kingdom is no different than any other country. We have our own underground subculture of criminality and exploitation. For years, I benefitted from it. Until my own family turned against me.
“We’ve been searching for my father since we regrouped and resumed operations.” My attention remains locked outside. “But without success.”
Raye hums her disappointment behind me.
“I don’t believe he’ll allow us to rebuild fully without showing his face to retake the family empire. We need to find him, Raye. And eliminate him.”
“What does this have to do with the girl?”
“Warner Mead.”
For several seconds, Raye holds her silence. “Wait… The asshole who works for Sabre?”
Turning around to face her, I prop my tailbone against the windowpane. “Bingo.”
“You know, he’s been tearing apart anything and everything he can get his hands on while searching for this crazy bitch.” She smirks a little as if impressed. “That’s dedication.”
“It’s also his weakness.”
She rattles out a sigh. “Walk me through it. We don’t all live on your intellectual level.”
“We can find the one thing he wants.” I incline my head, urging her to understand. “Now we have a starting point.”
“And that’s good… Why?”
“You said it yourself. He’ll do anything to get his girl back. Anything .”
Her eyes widen as she begins to catch onto my thinking. “Oh, hell.”
“If we can’t find my father… You can surely bet that with Sabre’s help, we will hunt him down and eliminate him. If we get them off our backs in the process and clear my name, that’s a win-win.”
With her mouth open in astonishment, several beats of silence pass.
“Fuck me. You want to strike a deal with Sabre Security?”
“I want to throw them a bone.” I shrug casually. “Then watch them come running when they want another taste of the results only we can offer them. For the right price, of course.”
Her stunned expression is amusing. I don’t know why she’s surprised that I’ve concocted a scheme to save our skins. It’s what I do—plot, plan then fucking attack.
All my life, I’ve operated from the shadows. The darkness became my home long before I could walk or talk. That’s what happens when you’re bred to bolster an illustrious criminal empire.
I’m going to take that empire back.
It’s rightfully fucking mine.
Raye’s laugh is stunted with surprise. “You’re certifiable.”
“You going soft on me now?”
“Nah. Just hope you know what you’re doing. Those Sabre pricks don’t mess around.”
“They certainly do not.”
Finishing her liquor, Raye rises to her feet. “How are you going to find 768 and free her? I told you, she’s a ghost. Someone powerful is controlling her.”
Grabbing my phone from the cluttered desk, I depress the power button to turn it back on. I’m usually the last to admit it, but sometimes, professional assistance is the price of doing business.
“Blaine?” Raye prompts.
After scrolling through my contacts, a name I’ve only called upon in times of true desperation causes goose pimples to rise on my skin.
The Hunter.
When I continue to ignore her, Raye peers over my shoulder to see what I’m doing. She lets out a low, impressed whistle.
“Are you serious?”
“Deadly,” I murmur back.
“But… we can’t afford his bill.”
“Then we’ll figure it out. He’s usually willing to cut a deal, and we can’t do this without him.”
My calloused thumb hovers over the call button without pressing it. Pressure builds behind my eyes, adding to the rising levels of adrenaline swamping my system.
Feeling Raye’s uneasy gaze on me, I turn to meet her stare. She gnaws on her bottom lip, brows curved in a frown as she appears to weigh her next words.
“You know… this genie doesn’t go back in its bottle once you let it out.”
Without another second of fretting, my thumb jabs the call button. Raye’s stare disappears. All I can see is the mental image of that beautifully savage fighter battling for her life, splattered with blood and bruises, toned limbs contorting in blissful violence.
Fuck. Ember Lawson is just a job.
But what I wouldn’t give to see those scarred curves up close. To trace my tongue along her pointed lines, ridged muscles and dark-purple bruises. To bathe in her violence. Her rage. Whatever inner beast has given her the strength to survive.
Perhaps I’ll meet her yet.
No—I will. I’m fucking counting on it.
As the line rings, awaiting the demon I must be crazy to call upon to answer, I smile slyly at my loyal foot soldier. She’s gaping at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“I know, Raye. That’s exactly what I’m counting on.”