Chapter 2
CIPHER
The Den is louder than usual. The noise hitting me like a physical thing as soon as I step inside.
Music pounds through hidden speakers, bass vibrating through the concrete.
The air is thick with smoke, sweat, and adrenaline.
Someone slaps my shoulder as I pass, another chest-bumps me hard enough to make a point.
“Cipher!” a deep, smoke-roughened voice bellows from the middle of the crowd.
Rafael Milano. The man who stands at about my height, catches my eye and so does the viper tattoo on his hand.
No one can miss the ruby red eyes of the venomous creature.
He’s part of the Red Letter Syndicate and comes here to blow his billions.
Something I wasn’t aware of a week ago. After seeing them show up on site with Veles and the Vultures, I did some digging and made quick work of getting to know the men. All nine of them.
Turns out, he and his wealthy crew of criminals aren’t into drugs. But they are into scouting out potential threats. Hence why they’ve been seen with Veles. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, and all that bullshit.
“You up on the roster tonight, Savage?”
He’s won about four million off my blood and sweat so far. I’ve made three times that as the one in the ring. I never said I wasn’t as loaded as the fuckers in here betting, but by the looks I get from a few of the Botox babes in here, you’d think I was a bottom feeder.
Must be the neck tattoos making me look bad.
I shoulder my way toward him and we clasp hands. Rafael has a lady on each arm with another walking toward us with a whiskey in each hand.
The mafia man is living the high life, but the dullness of his eyes reveals another story. I recognize going through the motions of life just to keep from ending it all.
I shake my head. “Nah, man. Not tonight.” My eyes scan the space behind him and the crowd closing in on all sides as another set of fighters step into the ring.
My eyes immediately land on Harlow.
“I’ll be back after the new year to take your money from you though.”
“Deal.” We bump shoulders and I leave him to his night so that I can get back to mine.
I don’t spend much time in the Den unless I need to work something out physically. Too much screen time will make a man crazy if he doesn’t bleed it off now and then. At least that is true for me. Tonight, though, I’m not here for myself.
A familiar face pops up in my line of sight before a hand snatches my arm. “Hey, man. I didn’t think you were comin’ in. Thought it was your night off.”
“Monies, man. Good to see ya. All good, tonight?”
The Savage in-house bookie taps a new pack of cigarettes against his palm before sliding one out and lighting up.
Monies sits on his usual rickety metal stool beside the caged ring—broad-shouldered, salt-and-pepper running through his trimmed beard, and eagle eyes that catch everything.
The aging man used to be a fighter. There’s an easygoing slouch to his posture, but it’s all calculated—he misses nothing.
Now he’s the one taking bets, running the numbers with a lazy drawl and a sharp mind.
He’s laid back, sure, but nothing gets past him.
Around here, everyone respects his last word.
Smoke curls around the sides of his face as he asks, “Good, yeah. We got new blood in the ring tonight. You wanna put some money down?”
I rock onto the back of my heels. “What do you know about ’em?”
Monies grins, cigarette dangling from his mouth. “It’s a lady. Got herself a helluva right hook and a sexy rack’ll make you forget your own name. Done dropped Brutus and Sampson both like sacks o’ crawfish. You best pay attention to that one. She’s a moneymaker.”
That catches my attention. I’ve gone a few rounds with both and walked away a couple of broken ribs.
“She’s that good, huh?” I know he’s talking about Harlow and I’m also aware of what she is capable of, but she’s always had a way of taking my breath away. I never expected to see Harlow again, much less in my own establishment.
“Tell you what, she’s made more folks richer than the slots upstairs tonight. You want my two cents? Bet on her. That’s easy money.”
Monies shrugs a thick shoulder in a way that says I can either take his advice or leave it. His knowing grin says he knows what I do. Harlow is a powerhouse and knows how to handle herself in the ring.
“How ’bout it, boss? Three to one payout as usual. You in?”
He sucks on the filter end of a cancer stick, filling the space with a heavy stench of smoke.
I glance back toward the ring, where Harlow stretches her arms, preparing for another round with the next fighter. I’m almost sorry I missed her taking down Brutus and Sampson.
“Know what, man. Put me down for fifty. And maybe put down the cigarettes, too. Fuck. How are you breathing through all that nasty smoke?”
Some people do not respect the life they’re given, but I can’t keep the man from what he loves.
Monies gives a rough laugh weighed down by years of sucking on those damn things.
“Nah, I’m good. Down to two packs a day, though. Better than my usual three. You add more bouncers in here and I might get down to one pack. The fighters stir up a lot of emotions and sometimes that boils over to the patrons.”
“Copy that. I’ll get the ball rolling. Count on it being done.” I step away with a mental note to talk to the crew about getting more security. Normally everyone is pretty well behaved for an underground fight club. No one wants the cops in here, but I hear him.
I melt into the shadows, watching as another fighter steps into the ring with Harlow.
This one is bigger than Brutus or Sampson.
This one’s way too overconfident, but he’s gonna find out the hard way which seems to be the theme of the night.
I look on from the darkness as Harlow’s opponent lands a right hook that snaps her head back, and something dark and violent coils in my gut.
She takes it, but it’s me who has a hard time watching a man put his hands on my woman.
Used to be mine, I remind myself. I glue my feet and continue to watch.
Harlow doesn’t seem fazed.
She moves like water, like she knows exactly how far she can bend before she breaks someone. She lays into him with every move I taught her, every move her brother taught her, and a few moves I think she picked up from her FBI courses.
Point is, the other fighter is learning that underestimating your opponent is a rookie move. Period.
One good right hook to the left followed by one on the right and a solid front kick that catches center mass and Harlow fells another one of our fighters. Shit. At this rate we won’t have anyone else to put in there.
When she drops him, the crowd goes wild again and then it’s over.
I look on as thick wads of cash change hands. Our bookie snags my attention and I give him a nod. He knows where to put my winnings.
I look back to see the behemoth Harlow dropped, shaking himself back into the world of the living after being knocked out by someone a third of his size. He leans over and I can’t help but smile as blood hits the concrete.
Harlow takes her payout from Monies and disappears into the mass of bodies.
Shit.
For a second I can’t find her, but her strawberry blonde hair is easy to spot when the crowd parts to let her through.
I don’t follow her right away. I hold back and wait.
I count my breaths instead of acting on impulse.
When I finally step out into the snowy night my pulse is steady and my mind is clear.
I slip into my SUV and follow her smaller car.
The snow gets thicker on the road as we head north of New Orleans.
For a minute I think we are heading back to my parish, but then she turns down several back roads that lead us away from anything I’m familiar with.
I kill the headlights and keep my distance. It’s not easy to stay on the road, but it’s not long until she takes a single-lane road that’s more snow and mud than anything else.
I ease to a slow stop just out of her line of sight. She quickly goes inside the cabin, but she doesn’t bother concealing where she keeps the key tucked above the door.
I smile. Big mistake. She’s let her guard down out here and that tells me she thinks no one can find her.
I let half an hour go by before I make my way closer. Her cabin is quiet when I step onto the darkened porch. The lights from the front window are killed, but from the sides of the cabin I can spot a low hum of gold and white coming from a window. Her bedroom? Bathroom?
There are no neighbors to worry about since the cabin is in the middle of nowhere.
That’s one plus.
Another is how winter’s stillness wraps around the place, offering a buffer between the real world and whatever I find waiting for me on the inside.
Maybe this night will turn out to be a little fun after all.
Large cypress trees cocoon us in from nearly all sides.
There are some raised stairs with empty flowerpots filled with snow.
I look around for any other signs of a family she’s started or maybe signs of a lover, but there’s not much else.
No porch swing, no secondary vehicle and there’s no smoke coming out of the chimney.
There’s nothing to make this place feel like home. That’s not the Harlow I remember.
I crouch down and take a peek inside the front window. There’s not even a throw blanket on the couch.
If I didn’t see her walk into the cabin, I would say this place is abandoned most of the year.
I grab the key from the top of the door ledge and I step inside and close the door softly behind me.
The place smells like fresh soap and clean linen, with a faint undercurrent of gun oil that tells me she hasn’t gone soft. I move through the space, cataloging exits and checking for any hidden weapons, but there’s nothing to find. Her badge sits on the table beside the door alongside her gun.
She’s not expecting anyone to find her out here. It’s not like her to be so careless.
I leave the kitchen and turn down a short hall. Gold light spills from a crack in the bathroom door.
Hmm…she’s in the shower. I can’t help but grin.
Steam drifts down the hall, carrying the scent of her soap, something citrusy and soft. I stop just outside the bathroom, listening to the rush of water and the faint sound of her soft exhales. She always loved long showers.
I ease the door open a fraction more. Moonlight spills through the open ceiling window, silvering the steam.
I step into the doorway as she reaches for a towel.
Harlow freezes when she sees me in the mirror. Her chest rises sharply with a breath of surprise.
For half a second, neither of us moves.
And then someone hits fast forward.
“You!” she seethes.
She spins, blue eyes wide, and then the hellcat lunges.
I hold my hands up. “You’re on a hit list and shit is about...” I try to explain, but she’s not having it.
Her breath stutters as she rears back and drives a fist into my side. “You don’t get to—”
I block it and cut her off by pressing my mouth to the bruise on her cheek, my lips lingering there. She gasps, her body betraying her even as she shoves at my chest.
I feel it then. The heat between us rekindles on contact. Our souls recognize each other and I can feel the way her blood sings under my touch.
Water drips from every delicious curve of her body and there’s not a part of me that doesn’t go on high alert the second my hands are on her body.
My entire plan of getting her to safety and finding out why she’s in the Vultures’ book is out the door.
I’m now locked in on remembering her smell, the feel of her in my arms and tasting the sweetness of her kisses on my lips.
For a few seconds, my whole fucking world is right again. I can’t believe I let her slip through my fingers. Then again, back then my life was pure chaos, and she was a force of nature I didn’t know how to handle.
That is not tonight's problem, though.
She lunges again, and this bathroom is very small.