Chapter Thirty-Four
Present - Ryder
I’VE MANAGED TO steer clear of malls for a decade, avoiding the tedious roaming that seems like a good idea until you get there. But here I am, roped into yet another trip to International Mall, the second time in a month. At least there’s coffee involved. And Evie. She’s got her vanilla cream cold brew in hand as we meander past the stores on the way back to where we’ve parked.
Taking another sip of my coffee, I relish in the small high caffeine has to offer. I’ve hardly slept since the news aired about Stefan’s yacht. The first night I didn’t even blink, let alone sleep, as I waited for a summons. When it never came, I was certain I’d arrive to find my loft burnt to the ground. And when I found even that untouched, this horrifying feeling creeped into my heart: hope.
Just as we find ourselves on the home stretch, I almost swear, a head of spiky blonde hair emerges from the Louis Vuitton store up ahead, a head I’d like to slam against the bar top the next time I see it. But with the notoriously nosy person next to me, and the proclamation of loyalty that psychotic prick made to Stefan, this could very easily exceed an awkward encounter.
Shoving Evie into the closest store, I pull her deeper inside until I’m certain he wouldn’t see us as he walks by.
“What are we doing in here?”
Looking around, I realize that I’ve pushed us inside of an Abercrombie of all fucking places. “I, uh, got the sudden urge to buy something that isn’t black.”
Grabbing the first navy shirt I see off the wall, I hold it up as evidence.
“Okay. I’ll pretend like we’re not in here to hide from whoever was about to walk by.” Evie pins me with a glare. “But navy is basically black without being black, so it doesn’t qualify as collateral in the trade to keep my nose out of whatever that was about.”
I roll my eyes, placing the navy shirt back where I got it. “Pick a color then.”
“You’ll have to wear it. Often.” Evie’s smile is one of a gremlin, the things nightmares are made of. “Whenever I say.”
“Come on, Eves.”
“I don’t make the rules.”
“You literally just made up the rules.”
Evie turns toward the door. “Huh, I wonder if I can still spot that person that RYDER CASSIDY–”
I launch forward as she shouts my name, covering her mouth with a sigh. “Pick whatever you want.”
Evie looks at the rack next to us, an evil little grin forming on her lips as she walks around, teasing me by touching what must be considered the opposite of a solid black shirt, repeatedly. Finally, she pulls out a yellow crewneck with a waggle of her brows. “It’s your size.”
I roll my eyes but allow it, because it’s yellow, and the color reminds me of her.
A few months ago, I’d look into the mirror and see nothing but what I’d lost. Yet here I am, with everything I could have wished for but didn’t dare, standing right in front of me. I was a fool for thinking I could go back to that wasteland of a life and take the coward’s way out. Doing the right thing, making a stand against Stefan with the strength of law enforcement behind me, is what I should have done from the beginning.
One last remaining puzzle piece clicks into place in my chest.
Opening my phone, I send a message to Connor.
Ryder: Tell Blondie that I’m in for that trip you mentioned.
Connor: If you record with us, it means you’ll be the new lead singer for Immoral Support on an immediate basis.
Ryder: I know what it means.
Ryder: And I’m ready.
Evie coughs. “Who’s got you smiling at your phone?”
Passing my phone over, I let her see for herself as I snatch the yellow bargaining chip and pull out my wallet. Thankfully there’s not a line to the very back of the store today. As I’m handed the receipt and turn, my stomach sinks out through my asshole when I see the figure approaching Evie.
“Evelyn? Is that you?” Preston looks the same as every night I’ve seen him at the bar. Gelled up spikes. Pastel colors. Sperrys. Entitlement dripping off him. The whole starter kit, plus a crooked nose.
Of course, Preston knows Evie, no doubt one of the boys that Evie’s parents waited for her to bring home. Of course, he’s also the prick with a penchant for getting under my skin and an untapped urge to maim. And judging by the pitch in his voice, Preston had his sights set on Evie for years .
Evie turns toward him, the news on my phone forgotten. “Preston?”
If her greeting had any layer of excitement to it, I might just die right here on the spot, but I’m saved by the hint of disdain and discomfort weaving through her surprise.
“Long time no see!” Preston laughs, far more joyous to see her.
Evie chuckles awkwardly. “Yeah, I haven’t seen you since I left college.”
“I’ve run into your parents a few times since, but you’ve never been with them.”
“Ohhh, I’ve just been busy with work is all.” Evie waves her hand through the air, physically brushing him off, but he doesn’t take the hint.
“That’s right, they told me you have your own company now. Event planning, if I’m not mistaken?”
Evie reaches up, gripping her neck. “Yeah.”
“That’s crazy because I’ve actually been looking to hire an event planner.”
Fate is a bastard, twisted and cruel.
“Oh? What sort of event?”
A slimy smile. “Just a little get together with the boys.”
If I was a smarter man, I’d keep my distance. Leave their little reunion be and creep out of the store while he’s preoccupied. Evie would get the point and make an inconspicuous escape, but I’m not a smarter man, and I can’t resist the urge to crack his ego the way I cracked his face.
And I refuse to stand here while he continues to make her uncomfortable.
“What a small world,” I marvel, taking up a spot on Evie’s side. “You know Preston?”
“ You know Preston?” Evie’s eyes widen, darting between the two of us. Preston’s shoulders square, plastic smile fading into a grimace.
“We go way back, don’t we, Preston?” I flick the end of my nose, his responding bristle fueling me with plenty of fresh content to replay in my mind the next time I can’t put my fist through his face. “He’s a regular at The Swan.”
“Oh.” Evie looks at Preston in a new light, seeing the kind of man he is, if she didn’t already know.
“And how do you two know each other?” Preston directs the question at Evie, and I let her take the lead.
“Ryder and I grew up together. We were inseparable until I was adopted.”
“That’s right, I forgot you were adopted, you always fit into our world so seamlessly.”
And just like that, if Preston had any shot with Evie, he threw away his chance so thoroughly, I almost feel bad for the guy. Almost . If he knew anything about her, he’d know that wasn’t true. But Preston sees what he wants to see, hears a no as a yes.
“Right.” Evie nods. “Well, we were just going, but it was good to see you.”
“Maybe we should catch up sometime.” Preston takes a step back, placing himself between Evie and the exit.
The hair stands up on the back of my neck, a hint of rage simmering through my veins. As if she felt the shift, Evie reaches over and delicately takes my hand in hers. “I’m sure we’ll run into each other at the next gala we’re dragged to or something.”
Preston smiles, but there’s too much ferocity in his eyes for my liking. It’s my turn to take a step, putting myself between him and Evie, while reminding him of the fact that as much as he hates me, he has to look up to look me in the eye. “Preston.”
“Ryder,” Preston says through clenched teeth.
And with that, I lead Evie out of the store.
As soon as we’re out of range, Evie releases a breath. “Well, that was fucking awkward.”
“This world needs to get bigger,” I grumble. Seeing him at work is enough. “I’m surprised his little posse wasn’t following him around.”
Evie snorts. “Was it Preston whom you were trying to avoid?”
“Yeah. I didn’t realize you knew him.”
“I don’t, really. We went to the same college and saw each other around, but nothing beyond that.” She scrunches her nose. “I never liked him.”
“Me neither.”
“There’s something… off about him. Don’t you think?”
“Yeah.” Evie has no idea how right she is. “Wait, since we still ran into him, do I get to return the shirt?”
Evie smacks me on the chest. “No.”
“So, did you end up seeing what was on my phone?”
“Yes.” Evie pulls me to a stop, grabbing my phone from her back pocket. “I’m incredibly proud of you, Ryder. You’re going to make magic.”
I bask under the glow of her hazel eyes, convincing me that there’s truth in her words. Running my palm over her cheek, cherishing her soft skin and the sweet blush, I drop my lips to hers. There will never be a day that I take this for granted. Having music. Having her.
As I pull away, my contentment is replaced by unease, the distinct sensation of someone dragging the tip of a dull knife down my back. Glancing over my shoulder, I find nothing amiss, but the feeling haunts me to the car and all the way back to Evie’s office.
Not even the feel of her arms wrapped around my middle, as I weave us in and out of traffic, manages to shake it. The dread only sinks its claws further into my skin when Evie heads inside.
· · ·
Today is my first shift since Stefan’s yacht was raided.
It’s been quiet. Too quiet.
Kicking the stand on my bike, I leave it in my usual spot out back, making my way around to the side door in the alley. The bar is almost entirely empty, besides Terra who is already here, setting up for opening. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Terra’s greeting doesn’t drip with vitriol, as close as she’ll ever come to an apology. I’ll take it.
She tosses a rag to me, and I get started on my typical routine, my stomach clenching as though I’m staring over the edge of a cliff. Is it too much to hope that Stefan crawled into a hole somewhere?
As if my cowardice alone summoned him, the secret door breathes open and Stefan stalks out, along with the usual cavalry. “Get the others.”
Stefan’s right-hand man, the one he goes nowhere without, grabs the bouncer from where he waits outside along with the guard in the kitchen. Terra and I remain where we are, giving him enough attention that we won’t be considered disrespectful, but not enough to be shot for putting our noses where they don’t belong. Tension falls over the room and nobody takes a fucking breath.
As if he knows it, Stefan waits, just begging for someone to breathe or pass out.
Seconds go by, followed by minutes of utter silence.
Finally, Stefan moves, his footsteps echoing throughout the bar as he crosses the room to where Terra and I prepare for opening behind the bar. We stop what we’re doing, giving him our full attention as he lays his hands flat on the bar top. My gaze catches on the iron knuckled snake, wondering what it’d feel like to go through my cheekbone.
My heart rate quickens when Stefan’s gaze turns onto me, before he slams his hands down on the bar and turns toward his men. “There’s a rat in my fucking house.”
Silence. You could hear a feather drop.
“THERE’S. A. RAT. IN. MY. FUCKING. HOUSE.” Stefan’s face goes purple with the force he delivers each word, spittle flying. Reaching for his waistband, he pulls out a gun faster than anyone can react, shooting his right-hand man in the head. Stefan calmly tucks his gun away, running his hands through his hair before addressing the other men. “Figure out who it is, or you’ll end up like Dmitri.”
With that, Stefan prowls out of the bar— alone —the door slamming shut behind him. His men move quickly to dispose of the body. Terra tosses one of them a few towels, and they do as good of a job as they can with the time they have. They’re still mopping when the first patron walks in, taking a seat on one of the barstools.
The old man chuckles after ordering a beer on tap. “Someone already puking up their guts so early in the day?”
“We party hard, old man,” Terra says with a halfhearted wink before filling his glass and sliding it over to him. Looking more shaken than I’ve ever seen, Terra whispers as I towel the last glass. “Who would be stupid enough to betray Stefan?”
I shrug, the face of nonchalance, even though my heart pounds on, harder and faster than its limit. “Someone who doesn’t like their head very much.”
That someone is me.
And Stefan isn’t going to stop until my head rolls.
· · ·
“This place is a shithole.” Even worse than my loft. I nod toward a cockroach that’s running up the wall. “Is he on the lease?”
Agent Blackhall throws up a middle finger. “The rent is coming out of my own pocket, sorry I couldn’t get a penthouse like everyone else in your circle. I mean, what kind of twenty-something-year-olds have penthouses?”
I snort, because he’s got a point. “Why isn’t the FBI bankrolling this?”
“I already told you. I’m keeping this quiet. You and me, nobody else.”
I’m fairly certain lone rangers are not a thing with the FBI.
They have policies, hierarchies and rules. Something doesn’t add up, because this just isn’t how bureaucracies of any kind work.
“Don’t tell me I’m helping you on some unsanctioned fucking vendetta mission.” Blackhall stares at me, not making a move to deny my claim. “That’s what this is, isn’t it? Why your partner isn’t involved?”
“Not exactly.”
I swear. Agent Blackhall pulls out the silver lighter, flicking it open and closed before finally grabbing a cigarette and lighting it.
“I came to you to do the right thing. I’m working with you to get out of that life, not trade one illegal activity for another.”
“You’re not trading one for the other, you’re getting around the red tape. This is the only way Stefan goes down. Would you rather we stand by while he continues murdering innocents?”
“ The end justifies the means, ” I mock with a scoff. “Well, congratulations, you’ve managed to get a front row view into the psyche of every criminal out there.”
“The last tip panned out the way you wanted, didn’t it?”
“I can’t fucking believe this.” I stalk toward the door. “I’ve seen this movie, asshole. I’m the one who gets burned—the expendable who gets lined right up like a sacrificial lamb.”
“You won’t get burned. You have my word.”
“Your word? And what good is that?” I’m pissed now. I’ve risked my life— Evie’s fucking life —for some asshole’s personal revenge. “And what happens when we get the evidence you need and it’s not admissible? Surely you’re not this fucking stupid?”
“I have my ways.”
“Unless you tell me exactly what the fuck I’m dealing with, I’m walking.”
Agent Blackhall’s jaw tics as he takes me in, no doubt deciding whether he can fully trust me or not. “Stefan’s got someone on the inside, but I don’t know who.”
“You haven’t tried to figure out who it is?”
“Obviously I’ve tried to figure it out.” Eye roll. “But whoever it is knows how to cover their tracks.”
“And now you can’t even trust your own partner?”
“We’ve been best friends longer than you’ve been alive, kid; of course I can trust him. He’s the only person in the entire agency I trust completely.”
“So, then why are we the only ones spending quality time together? Shouldn’t he be shacked up here too?”
“The mole has proven that they know where to look, and the entire Bureau knows that I’d never do anything without Wolf. I’m taking every precaution, including leaving him out of this. I’m hoping it throws them off my scent.”
“And you haven’t considered for one second that it could be your partner under Stefan’s thumb? I mean, he’d be the most obvious one to look at.”
“I know my partner.”
“And I know Stefan.”
“Wolf would never be turned. Stefan captured him once, two years ago. They tortured him for weeks, and when I found him, he was barely breathing. Despite every horror he faced, Wolf didn’t break.”
“Stefan could threaten his family.”
“I’m the closest thing he’s got to it, and I’m standing right here.” Blackhall throws me a glare. “So, if you’re done questioning Wolf’s loyalty, I’d like to move on.”
What the fuck do I know about any of this anyway. I’d cut out someone’s tongue if they questioned Evie’s loyalty. “Okay.”
“What do you say we move this to the bedroom?”
My brows shoot up as Blackhall leads me out of the living room, into the adjacent bedroom that’s barely bigger than a shoebox. One of the walls has been turned into a corkboard of sorts. There’s a big map, with pins and red string connecting locations. There are pictures of Stefan and every single one of his men, including me. There’s even a picture of Terra, walking out of the bar one night. Pictures and pictures and pictures. He’s got far more dirt on these people than I do.
“If you’ve got all of this, why do you need me?”
“The law doesn’t let me decide someone’s guilty and mete out their punishment, as you so helpfully pointed out earlier. There has to be evidence, something that isn’t circumstantial, that would prove beyond all reasonable doubt that Stefan is guilty.” Agent Blackhall sighs. “And that’s where it gets shitty. A law designed to protect the innocent begins protecting the guilty. Stefan is behind every major crime statistic doubling in Tampa Bay. Drug-related convictions are at an all-time high, leading to more overdoses, homelessness, burglaries, DUIs, arms dealing, and worse.”
Blackhall takes a step toward the wall, slowly pulling down a photo before handing it to me. “I told you that I was close to taking him down once. We had received a tip about a shipping container full of young girls that would be leaving from the Port of Tampa.” Agent Blackhall walks to the window, shoving his hands into his pockets. “That’s Lea Martin. She went missing right out of her front yard. Witnesses saw her get shoved into a van that we found burning later that day, and the trail ran cold. But then we got the tip. We were there that night, completely incognito, but the fucker knew we were coming. The container was already gone, minus one girl, whose body he left behind as a token of our failure.”
My stomach twists as I look at the photo again. Lea’s light brown hair and cheerful smile reminds me of a little Evie. She must not have been more than eight years old.
“You’re right about one thing, Ryder. I’m ready to do whatever it takes to make sure that no more little girls lose their lives. And yeah, I do believe there’s a score to settle, but it’s not mine . It’s Lea’s.” Agent Blackhall takes the picture from me, pinning the picture back on the wall. “Can you be part of that or not?”
I knew Stefan was pure evil, but even then, I had no idea how truly heinous he was, stealing little girls from their families to sell them. Maybe my information won’t be what takes him down, but I’ll sure as hell share everything I know.
“He’s dead.” Walking up to the wall, I point to the picture of Stefan’s right-hand man, Dmitri. “Shot in the head today by Stefan himself.”
“Stefan must be rattled.”
I point to the guy with a tattoo down the left side of his face. “That’s who I’d guess will be replacing him.” I’ve never bothered learning all their names, and Blackhall knows them already anyway.
We go through man after man, and I share every piece of information I’ve gathered over the last several years. Small details that seem inconsequential, and details that make Blackhall crack his knuckles, before scribbling notes onto a paper and taping it up next to the person. We go like that for hours, trying to make connections or zero in on someone who’s sloppy enough to focus on, see what they can slip up and deliver to us.
After I’ve stared at the board long enough to memorize it, one single photo stands out, tucked into the left-hand corner away from the rest. The only face on this wall I don’t recognize. This picture is different from the others, almost like a piece of art rather than a rough snapshot that was taken unbeknownst to the subject.
This one could be printed onto a canvas and taken to auction the way the light hits the woman’s face, setting it aglow as she tips her white sunglasses down, gazing directly into the camera. It’s not necessarily familiarity or fondness that sparkles in her eye, but an amused recognition.
“Who is that?”
“Stefan’s wife.”
Shock rocks through me. “Stefan doesn’t have a wife.”
“He does. Her name is Soraya Catalina Mesias.”
I don’t miss the way Blackhall’s throat seems to close up around her name. “I’ve never seen her, let alone heard him mention her.”
“Soraya is his greatest prize, keeps her locked up in their mansion, except when he brings her out to play.”
“Play?”
“Soraya is just as rotten as her husband, maybe worse. Grew up in one of the most powerful crime families in the world before she was given to Stefan as part of a bargain they struck. She’s wreaked havoc here ever since.”
“Where did you get that picture?” My eyes flick toward him as his throat bobs.
“I took it.” Agent Blackhall notes my silence. “It’s where Wolf was taken to be tortured, a vacation villa in Mexico. I was there to retrieve him.”
Light begins to peek through the window. “Listen, Blackhall–”
“Call me Lincoln.” He stretches out a hand. “If we’re doing this, we may as well be on a first-name basis.”
“Lincoln.” Shaking his hand, I accept his offer. “You need to understand one thing. Evie is the most important person in the world to me. More important than any other life. More important than any piece of information. So, if for a second I think this is going sideways in a way that could blow back on her, I’m getting out.”
Lincoln nods. “Understood.”
“I’ll have your back. You can count on that. But if it comes down to you or her, I’m leaving you to die.”
“I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t do the same for Wolf.”
“Then we’re clear?”
“Clear.”
“Then I’d better get back to my girl before the sun is fully up.”