Chapter 1
Kian
Four Months Later
Washington, DC
Considering my roots, I’d never been built for snow. I detested it, in fact, but my military training had taught me to endure anything.
Still, even I couldn’t ignore the way the white powder softened the hard edges of DC and this part of Georgetown, framing the city like a postcard this frigid cold February.
Snowflakes packed the sidewalks, crunching under my boots as I moved in step with River, Astor, and Darius, the way I had a hundred times before. Different countries. Different missions. Different stakes.
The rhythm was always the same though: squared shoulders, vigilant eyes. I kept my hands in my coat pockets, ready to draw my weapon. Those old habits didn’t fade just because the streets were pretty and mostly empty.
Our breath fogged the air, the sound of the city dulled beneath the snow, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed to the unspoken understanding that came from walking beside people who knew you better than you knew yourself.
It was the result of years of working together on various rescue missions. Each one of us had our reasons for doing that job. Mine was to redeem myself for failing one specific woman.
“This cold is a violation of human rights,” River muttered beside me, tugging his collar tighter around his neck.
I let out a quiet laugh. “You say that every time it drops below forty.”
“Damn straight, give me fucking tropics. Not this white shit,” River retorted.
We met up first thing this morning in the lobby of my hotel to discuss some business related to Blackhawk Security, but I had to cut it short, so we were continuing our conversation on my way to meet the Ashfords and Kristoff Baldwin.
Darius’s sharp voice came from my left. “At least the coffee doesn’t taste like diesel here.”
“Debatable,” Astor said.
The four of us couldn’t be more different. We came from different backgrounds, different countries, and had different tastes. The only thing we had in common was our military background.
The three of them wore their hair longer—the rebellious result of years of buzz cuts—and that was where the similarities ended.
I started Blackhawk Security decades ago and these three were my first hires, but in the past ten years, I’d stepped back significantly and recently turned it over to them completely. I had my hands full running the Albanian criminal empire as well as the Cortes Cartel.
“Now tell me what brings you to DC,” I said calmly. “Besides me.”
River snickered. “I told you he’d see right through us.”
“It’s not like we’re good at social calls,” Astor clipped.
“Speak for yourself,” River replied. “I always bring the best gifts. People fucking love me.”
Darius cut them off.
“I swear to God, you two are like fucking children.” His eyes met mine and he continued in his no-nonsense voice. “We got a job that we aren’t sure whether to take.”
“For the first time ever, we seem to be in complete disagreement,” River commented, flashing a smile and revealing a set of perfect teeth. “We can’t even vote, because Darius refuses to make a decision one way or the other.”
“That should tell you something,” Darius said coldly.
“That it’s a yes?” Astor declared.
“Why don’t you start by cluing me in with the details,” I stated matter-of-factly, my breath fogging the air around me.
We passed rows of townhouses, lights glowing warm behind frosted windows. A couple walked past us, bundled up, and I caught the way they were trying not to stare. We didn’t look like tourists. We never did.
“The job involves a protection detail, but the individual’s family has ties to the Black Oil Syndicate.”
My steps halted and I turned to look at River, certain he was joking. However, his expression told me he was dead serious.
The Black Oil Syndicate was based in Texas, and the family who ruled it often dabbled in deals that weren’t always a hundred percent above board.
On its own, that wasn’t an issue, especially considering my background.
The problem was that they operated saloons with trafficked women from all over the world.
That was the reason we kept our distance.
Darius glanced at me. “I think everyone deserves to be considered.”
“Exactly what I’m saying!” Astor exclaimed.
“But?” I urged Darius to continue.
“There are too many inconsistencies in the client’s story,” Darius continued as we all resumed walking.
“Lies,” River corrected.
“Maybe,” Darius agreed reluctantly.
“What kind of inconsistencies?” I asked.
“Locations and dates are not lining up. Names keep changing,” River went on. “And before you say it might be fear speaking, it’s not. Not a single bone in that client holds fear.”
“The bottom line is this person needs protection,” Astor challenged. “Don’t tell me we’re worried about them?”
“It’s not them we’re worried about,” River reasoned. “It’s taking on a client who might be even worse.”
Darius didn’t object, although he didn’t agree either.
“What would you do, Kian?” Astor questioned. “Ever encountered a situation like this?”
“No two situations are the same. However, if you want my advice, it’s to go with your gut,” I recommended.
“Well, that helps,” Astor remarked wryly.
“Actually it does,” Darius stated, giving me a sidelong look. “My gut feeling says we don’t take on this client.”
“Hallelujah,” River exclaimed just as we stopped in front of an Irish bar. Music hummed behind the door, bass steady and alive.
Astor tilted his head toward the entrance. “You want one of us inside since you’re flying solo?”
Amir, my head of security back in Albania and the man I trusted explicitly, was on multiple Interpol lists, but my connections meant he’d never face extradition.
Some would say it was unwise to have such a high target as my right-hand man, but I would disagree.
He was the best, and I only worked with the best.
“I don’t need a babysitter here,” I retorted. “You three go on.”
Darius was already headed away from me, scanning the street as he called over his shoulder. “Text if you change your mind.”
The three men moved on, their voices fading back into easy banter while I stood alone, my breath fogging the air.
I scanned the bar through the window. It was one of those DC places that tried very hard to look casual while quietly charging twelve dollars for fries.
I saw them before I even opened the door. The two Ashford brothers and the man I’d be meeting officially face-to-face today, Kristoff Baldwin.
Not long ago, I’d worked on digging up information at Byron’s request. He needed someone to look into an unusual matter with his ex, his cousin, and his late friend Jonathan.
There wasn’t much there aside from a crazy, alcoholic ex-wife who was jealous and coincidentally had a loose connection to the Black Oil Syndicate. Although, all reports pointed to her walking on thin ice with her family for the past two decades.
Kristoff’s cousin, Sophie Baldwin, was in an accident she was convinced involved foul play, but the data merely pointed to a freak-of-nature crash that cost Jonathan his life.
Fucking love triangles.
I reached for the handle and pulled the door open, warm air spilling out, along with music and the smell of beer. I noticed Alessio first as he sipped happily from his beer bottle. He seemed to be more relaxed than I’d ever seen him, long legs stretched and jacket slung over the back of his chair.
Byron swirled his whiskey. “I’m just saying, if a senator starts a sentence with ‘off the record,’ it should absolutely be on the record.”
The Ashford brothers had a clear distaste for politicians after the experience with their senator father. Although, I didn’t think they were talking about him in this particular case, since he was dead.
“Any senator we know?” I questioned, pulling out a chair before taking a seat.
“Pretty much every single one,” Byron answered, his tone dry. “Your bourbon.”
“Thanks.” I reached for the glass and took a sip. “They usually think they’re invincible.”
“Until they’re not,” Alessio remarked.
“Exactly,” I agreed.
During his life cut short, Senator Ashford was no exception.
I owed him a favor posthumously, dating back to my younger days.
He was the reason I was able to join the military and stay under my father’s radar, who’d wanted me dead.
It was that which made me untouchable, although I was under no misconception that the man had done it out of the goodness of his heart.
He had counted on me becoming the head of two mafia factions and the kickbacks that would come along with it.
“They just don’t know when to stop. People in power think they can get away with everything,” I continued.
“Spoken like a man who’s never been caught,” Kristoff remarked wryly.
“The night’s young.”
“Damn, introductions are due,” Alessio chimed in. “Kristoff Baldwin, Byron’s buddy from his military days. Kristoff, this is Kian Cortes, the man who saved my wife’s life and got her out of Afghanistan. A debt that can never be repaid.”
Byron raised his glass. “Ditto.”
“No debt, it’s been forgotten.” I waved my hand. “Besides, Kristoff and I worked together recently. Good to meet you in person.”
“You as well. Thank you, by the way.”
“My pleasure.”
“Sophie’s lucky she lived through that car wreck,” Byron remarked.
Kristoff nodded.
“She’s a tough cookie, although she’s worrying me lately.” He raised his own glass. “To family and friends.”
“And surviving this fast and furious life without selling your soul,” Byron chimed in.
“I sold mine years ago,” Alessio said. “I just rent it back occasionally.”
“We all did,” I echoed. We all downed our drinks, then sat silently until the server came by with a refill. When he left with our glasses, I spoke. “So you three called this meeting. What’s the occasion?”
They shared a glance.
“Maybe we just wanted to see your pretty face?” Alessio suggested.