4. Ember
EMBER
JOHNNY WANTS TO FIGHT – BADFLOWER
One day, I suspect historians will study how on earth someone like Blaine Madden went from evading law enforcement to summoning them like trained dogs. And to his clandestine, criminal lair, no less. The place Sabre literally tried to shut down.
That fact clearly isn’t lost on Warner. He’s had a face like he’s chewing hornets for the entire drive. Hyland’s grip on the steering wheel is white knuckled too. Neither are happy about being summoned.
“We shouldn’t trust Madden,” Hyland grumbles.
With a sigh, Warner checks his watch. “We’ve had this conversation.”
“Wasn’t much of a conversation. You thrust this alliance on us.”
“We need his help.”
“He’s our enemy. We don’t need shit from him!”
“You’re letting the past cloud your judgement,” Warner combats.
“I’m trying to protect our team. Last I checked, that’s your job.”
“Watch your mouth, Hy.”
A snort emanates from our stone-faced driver. “Or what?”
Honestly, I should’ve known that insisting on riding in the back was a bad idea. These two are going to kill each other before we even arrive. Pulling out my mobile phone, I fire off a quick text message.
Ember: You better have a good reason for this, or they’ll kill you.
I’m thankful his reply comes fast.
Blaine: You think I’m that foolish?
Ember: I don’t know.
Blaine: A deal’s a deal.
Gnawing my lip, I consider my response.
Ember: What’s in this for you?
Three dots appear then vanish. He’s hesitating.
Blaine: Besides my freedom?
Ember: Yes.
No delay this time.
Blaine: You.
Unsure how to process that, I tuck my phone away without responding. Blaine’s motivations are muddied at best. I know why he took me, freed me, then taunted me. I was a mere pawn to him then. Now? I’m not so sure the battle lines are clear cut.
You.
I doubt my teammates would like that answer.
Steering his SUV down barely lit backstreets, Hyland ploughs deeper into the industrial landscape. It’s not unlike the warehouse district that Blaine sent me to the first time we fought, though we’re on the outskirts of an East London offshoot now.
Manufacturing is the backbone of the capital’s wealth, and that couldn’t be more apparent than out here. While the rest of the world associates this city with glittering skyscrapers and golden, royal artefacts, the beating heart lays buried beneath that faux reality in places like this.
As we pass several unlit company headquarters deep in the industrial park, Warner clicks open the centre console to access the stowed gun safe. He pulls free a black semi-automatic pistol, making short work of checking the chamber and clip.
“Blaine is investigating for us,” I tell them from the back seat. “Why are we going in all guns blazing?”
Hyland laughs under his breath. Asshole.
“Caution is what keeps us alive, Em.” Warner remains focused on the weapon.
“He signed that deal to buy his freedom.”
“That doesn’t mean we’re trusting him.”
“Then why is he living with us?” I interrogate.
“He’s sleeping on the sofa where we can keep an eye on him,” Warner replies. “Madden is an asset. Don’t confuse that with an ally.”
“Take your own advice,” Hyland mutters.
“Just shut up and drive.”
At the end of the block, one large warehouse glows with light in the pale rays of dawn. A cluster of different vehicles are positioned outside—two muscle cars, a familiar motorbike and one unmarked van.
Hyland parks behind Axel’s baby then scans the scene. “Why are we meeting here?”
Warner frowns out the window. “Axel was due to be scouting out some false license plates we identified passing near Tom’s apartment around the time he was taken.”
“Sure looks like he decided to follow the convict on a wild goose chase instead,” Hyland chuffs.
“You’re doubting Axel now too?” I eye him.
“I’m doubting any situation that threatens to hurt our team.” Hyland glares dark daggers at the scene ahead. “That’s my job.”
Shaking my head, I clamber out of the car before I can hear Warner argue back. I’ll take a bogus trap over listening to their competing egos for a moment longer. They follow in quick succession, the sound of Warner’s cursing floating over the SUV to reach me.
“What is this place?” I peer up at the warehouse.
Warner stiffly circles the car, favouring his left leg. “I did a quick search in the car. Registered to a nesting doll of shell corporations with a paper trail more complicated than a Rubik’s Cube.”
“Because that isn’t suspicious at all.”
“It’s exactly how the Madden dynasty built so much infrastructure across London over the last century.”
“You’re saying this place is his?”
Adjusting his light jacket, Warner shifts uncomfortably. “It would appear we didn’t erase his operations as effectively as we thought.”
“No shit,” Hyland scoffs.
Inviting his unlikely allies directly to his secret base of operations does little to explain Blaine’s mind to me. He knows the guys don’t trust him. Why take the risk? For all he knows, they could bring this place down on top of his head.
“How does his plea deal come into play here?”
A few steps ahead of us, Hyland checks his hip holster. “Not illegal to own a warehouse. If it’s being used to manufacture and distribute narcotics… Well, then I can send a team in there to sweep the place clean.”
“I’m sure he’ll be happy to help us find Tom once you’ve done that.”
“We don’t need his help, red.”
“You know as well as I do that Blaine has connections. He wants to take down Gael too.”
“Those connections are precisely why he belongs back in prison.”
He stomps on to approach the structure, cutting off our discussion. I bite back my own laugh as we follow, sliding into professional mode. Warner has his gun drawn, covering Hyland’s back, while my head rotates on a swivel.
The warehouse isn’t as decrepit as the last place Blaine sent me to. With only the odd smashed window and overgrown tufts of weeds, this place seems almost functional. The bare bricks, crisscrossed windows and distant rumble of music still sets my teeth on edge.
Before we can enter, the heavy steel door at the entrance groans while opening. Two shadows emerge—both tall, darkly clothed and clutching visible handguns. My gut drops when lurid, blue hair is illuminated by the dawn.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I deadpan.
Her scowl firmly fixed in place, Raye pops a hip as she stares me down. “Hello again.”
“Come to slice me open? Or toss me out of a moving vehicle?”
“Calm down, princess.” She sticks her weapon in the back of her waistband. “The van wasn’t moving. We’re not complete assholes.”
“Em?” Hyland’s gun is still raised.
“Right. This is Raye.”
“You were there in Mexico,” Warner surmises.
With a faintly bored look, Raye looks over our group. “Bingo.”
“Fantastic,” Hyland drawls. “You here to surrender?”
A burst of laughter spills from Raye. “Surrender. Hah. Hilarious.”
The bulky shadow at her side steps into the light, revealing familiar, light hair and an acidic glare. Warner inhales when he recognises Blaine’s other right hand man from the fight club. It’s Spyder, though I still refuse to believe that’s his real name.
“We’re exposed here,” he clips out. “You lot coming in or what?”
“Where is Axel?” Warner ignores him, not moving an inch.
“The purple-haired fuck?” Spyder scowls. “Inside. Giving me a damn headache, too.”
Lips rolling inwards to suppress a smile, I wave a hand to indicate for them both to relax. This isn’t some elaborate setup. Blaine signed that deal in good faith. Perhaps this is a test, or an extension of trust that we should honour.
“Take us to the boss.”
Spyder nods at my command. “You gonna give us another show? I’ll even bet on you this time.”
“Yeah, not likely.”
“Shame. Wouldn’t mind seeing a decent fight.”
I take the first step to follow, letting the other two decide whether or not to follow. Their whispers betray a rapid argument before footsteps trail behind me into the warehouse.
Spyder and Raye guide us through a warren of empty rooms and corridors. Whatever they’re doing here, it isn’t immediately obvious. Blaine’s playing this smart, giving no clues as to what really goes on behind these walls.
After several turns and twists, I’ve lost track of our path deeper into the cold, echoing building. The knowledge that Hyland and Warner are armed at my back offers some assurance. The way Spyder keeps glancing over his shoulder to look at me is unnerving.
“What are we doing here?” I snap at him.
“Heard about your little problem.” He eyes me knowingly. “We’ve been turning the city over since the boss man called to fill us in.”
“You have?” Warner sounds surprised.
“He says jump, we ask how high. Just didn’t expect it to take this long.”
Thundering heart leaping into my mouth, I quicken my steps. Blaine’s been floating around the edges of our investigation since Tom was taken yet never once mentioned that his people are out there working from the shadows.
The central hub opens to a wide, drafty space with high ceilings, exposed steel beams and rows of empty work benches. Drinking in the details, I flinch when a scream cuts the chemical-tinged air.
“What the fuck?” Hyland jerks in front of me.
“Calm down, toy soldier.” Spyder snickers.
“Where is Madden?” Hyland turns to Spyder, nostrils flaring.
“You want to lower the piece?”
Jaw clenching beneath his blonde scruff, Hyland’s raised gun doesn’t budge. “Alternatively, I could unload it into your carcass.”
“You son of a?—”
“It’s alright.” The formal croon that seems to haunt me rings out. “No need to get all worked up, boys.”
Strolling towards us like he doesn’t have a care in the world, Blaine immediately catches my eye. His self-assured grin is full of smug satisfaction. Such a shit stirring drama queen.
“What is this?” Warner steps forward to meet him. “The plea deal didn’t include running around the city and playing pointless games.”
Blaine grants him an exaggerated eye roll. “Good morning to you too.”
“Stop wasting our time. Why are we here?”