High Reward (Sin City Suits #5)

1. Chapter 1

Victor

The Audi’s engine roars as I push it past the speed limit, my grip white-knuckled on the steering wheel. Palm trees and neon blur past the windows. Vegas at night, a city that never sleeps, and is never not in motion.

Like me.

Like the thoughts racing in my head. Hunter’s ultimatum.

Seven days, or he buries us. Prayers that Trinity will survive the bullet that was meant for Lili.

Kara Lindon’s apparent grief turned vengeful.

And my girls, sleeping peacefully at home, unaware they’re both targets now.

Calling my father was a last resort, and now that I’ve done it, there is no taking it back. The Serranos are officially involved.

Something I never wanted to have happen. But desperation makes us all crawl back to things that are familiar.

“I’ll have someone dig into Draven, and if you need it, the Lindon woman too,” my father had said after I explained, his voice carrying that familiar note of smug satisfaction at my need for his help. “And I’ll send men to watch your house. No one touches what belongs to the Serranos.”

I hadn’t corrected him about Grace and Lili “belonging” to the family. Some battles aren’t worth fighting when you need someone’s resources. I may have an intense power exchange with Grace, and refer to her as my property, but no one owns either of my girls the way my father meant it.

The traffic light in front of me turns red.

I slow just enough to ensure no cross traffic before accelerating through it.

Seven days. Hunter gave me seven fucking days to dismantle a powerful man.

A man whose wife I’ve fallen for. A man who, if I’m honest, I should have killed the moment I learned who he was.

Owen’s neighborhood is upscale but discreet, filled with modern homes with tasteful landscaping and security systems worth more than most people’s cars.

There’s no doubt that Owen’s system rivals, and likely monitors, every other security system in the gated community.

I park haphazardly, half on the pristine lawn, half on the driveway, and stride to the door.

The doorbell’s chime sounds hollow in the quiet night. Seconds pass. I press it again, longer this time.

The porch light flicks on, and Owen yanks the door open wearing nothing but sweatpants. His hair is mussed, face creased with sleep, but his eyes sharpen instantly when he sees me.

“Victor? What the fuck?”

“We need to talk.” I push past him into the house. “Now.”

He closes the door and follows me as I make my way to his kitchen. The space is all sleek countertops and stainless steel bathed in cool under-cabinet lighting that Owen triggers with a wave of his hand.

“It’s nearly three in the morning,” he says, moving to the coffee maker. “This better be good.”

“Hunter Novak called me tonight.”

Owen’s hand stills on the coffee canister. “And?”

“He gave me an ultimatum. Seven days to put Draven in the ground or a prison cell. If I don’t, he’s coming for all of us.”

“Fuck.” Owen abandons the coffee prep and braces both hands on the counter. “Did he call anyone else?”

“That’s what I’m here to find out. Has he contacted you?”

Owen shakes his head. “No. Nothing. Just the brief update I sent you about Trinity’s surgery.”

I pace the length of the kitchen, my reflection distorted in the glossy cabinets. “So, he’s isolating me. Making this my problem alone.”

“Or he assumes you’ll tell us, and he doesn’t need to make the same threat five times.” Owen grabs two glasses from a cabinet and pours two fingers of bourbon in each. He slides one across the counter to me. “What exactly did he say?”

I knock back the bourbon in one swallow, welcoming the burn.

“That I brought this war to his door. Trinity might never walk again. That if she dies, he’ll dismantle everything we’ve built and put me in the ground next to Draven.

” I set the glass down harder than necessary.

“He also said he’d take Lili down with us if we fail. Called her Draven’s wife.”

Owen’s expression darkens. He doesn’t touch his drink. “And Grace?”

I snatch Owen’s untouched bourbon and laugh mirthlessly as I raise it to my lips. “Oh, he says Grace is innocent in all of this, but that won’t stop him from leaving her to mourn Lili and me.”

“Jesus.” Owen runs a hand through his hair. “I knew he was upset, but this is... Fuck, mate. I’m surprised I still have a job.”

“Yeah.”

Silence stretches between us, filled only with the soft hum of the refrigerator.

“And then there’s the Lindon situation,” I continue. “If Grace’s name was in that suicide note, and Kara blames her…”

“We need to look into it immediately,” Owen finishes. “How much does Grace know about all this?”

“Nothing.” I slide the drink back to Owen. “She and Lili were asleep when I left. I want to keep it that way until we have more information.”

Owen nods, then downs his bourbon. “We need to call everyone in. Now.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“And I’m sure they’d rather be woken up than blindsided by Hunter Novak’s private security force.” Owen grabs his phone from the counter. “The warehouse. One hour. You call Luke and Matteo. I’ll go wake Tobias.”

A grim smile twists my lips. “Finally found something that scares Owen Thorne. A death threat from the most powerful man in Vegas. Or are you just afraid you’ll lose access to all that fancy tech he’s got?”

“Fuck off.” There’s no heat in it. He’s already heading for the stairs. He pauses and turns to face me. “Next time you show up at my door at three in the morning, bring bloody better news.”

I pull out my phone, dial Matteo’s number. It rings three times before he picks up, voice sleep-rough and annoyed.

“Someone better be dying, Victor. I went to a stupid party with Skylar’s record label and just fell asleep half an hour ago.”

“No one is dying yet,” I answer. “But that might change if you don’t get to the warehouse in an hour.”

A pause. “I’ll be there. You call the others?”

“I’m at Owen’s house now. He’s waking Tobias. I still need to call Luke.”

I hear Matteo moving around, and he pulls the phone away to whisper something to Skylar. Then he’s back. “I’m on my way.”

I end the call and dial Luke. He’s not as angry as Matteo, which tells me he was awake. When I end the call, I slide the phone into my pocket and pull the hair tie from my hair with the other hand.

Owen reenters the kitchen, now fully dressed in jeans and a dark button-down. “Tobias is getting dressed. Bellamy says, fuck you but also keep Grace and Lili safe. Pretty sure she likes them more than she likes you, mate.”

I snort. “That just makes her smart.”

Tobias jogs down the stairs a minute later, and Owen jingles his keys.

“You following or riding with us?”

I glance at the empty bourbon glasses, most of which I drank and sigh. “Guess I’m riding in the backseat.”

Owen nods, and we head for the door that leads to his expansive garage. The only one in our crew with a more impressive garage is Luke, and that’s because he owns a VIP transportation company.

The warehouse sits on the outskirts of Vegas like a sleeping beast, windowless concrete walls under a moonless sky.

Our headlights cut through darkness as Owen pulls into the gravel lot.

Matteo’s sleek Maserati and Luke’s Range Rover are already parked near the loading bay doors.

I check my watch: 4:17 AM. Hunter Novak’s ultimatum ticks in my head like a bomb, six days, twenty hours remaining to dismantle a man whose empire has stood for decades.

“They’re already here,” Tobias says from the passenger seat. “That’s a first for Matteo.”

Owen kills the engine. “Amazing what the threat of death will do for punctuality.”

We exit the car in silence. The desert air is still cold at this hour. I punch in the key code at the side entrance, and the heavy metal door slides open with a hydraulic hiss. The security panel inside flashes red until I press my palm against the scanner.

“System disarmed, Victor Serrano,” announces a mechanical voice.

The warehouse looks like what it’s supposed to be, a storage facility for High Card’s excess equipment.

Stacks of chairs, extra bar equipment, and crates of specialty bondage furniture fill the main space.

We used to have our meetings in the middle of it all at an improvised table made of boards and sawhorses, but with the threats against us, Owen recently made some security improvements.

Now, our secret lair lies beyond a false wall at the back, behind a door that requires retinal scans from at least two partners to open.

Owen and I step up to the scanner, and the reinforced steel door slides open to reveal our new war room.

Luke and Matteo are already seated at the long conference table.

Luke looks freshly showered, dressed in a crisp black shirt and slacks like he’s heading to a business meeting instead of an emergency gathering at dawn.

Matteo, by contrast, still wears the designer clothes from whatever industry party he attended, a silver-gray suit with the tie loosened and hair slightly disheveled.

“This better be worth dragging me out of bed,” Matteo says, dark circles under his eyes. “I was having the first decent night’s sleep this week.”

Luke doesn’t look up from his tablet. “Owen texted that it’s about Hunter Novak. I’m assuming that means it’s worth your beauty sleep.”

Tobias moves to the coffee machine in the corner, flicking it on. “You’ll want to be wide awake for this.”

I take my position at the head of the table, standing rather than sitting. Owen moves to the wall of monitors and activates the signal jammers. A soft beep confirms we’re secure. No calls in or out, no digital surveillance possible.

“Phones in the box,” Owen says, sliding a metal container down the table. Everyone complies without argument. It’s become protocol for our most sensitive discussions.