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“Seems Wolfe is getting close to?—”
“Gentlemen, shut the fuck up,” Ryth slashes through his partner’s next words in a harsh voice.
Feet grind on dirty cement as Ryth’s partners push to their feet.
“You need to turn around more often, assholes. You’ve let your guard down. We have company.” Ryth crosses his arms over his chest. From this close distance, I can see the storm clouds rolling behind those thick, dark lashes.
My senses come back to me and the red whirling siren in my head screams for me to run.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I don’t dare take my eyes off him as I randomly punch buttons. Any button. At this point I don’t care where I’m taken. Just get me out of here! My heart lurches for my throat and stays there.
Behind him the men I know as the other two Lords of Chaos come to stand at Ryth’s sides.
“I found her in my room.”
“Sneaky. I wondered what took you so long.” That’s Marco Maximillian talking. Dark hair, dark eyes, movie post gorgeous if you like the rugged type, and just as rich as the name suggests. And older than me by about fifteen years. They all are. Ask me how I know later.
Crimson drips from his right hand.
“Let’s finish here and then we can deal with our new toy.”
Oh, God! I gulp air big time and peel my eyes off Marco’s long enough to look at the third Lord of Chaos.
Alaric D’ark. Shocking black hair with hints of silver at the temple and in his beard makes him a silver fox who looks just as hot as his two friends.
If you’re into killers and mobsters.
He’s the one in blood-stained jeans and talking about me like I’m no more than his entertainment. Rage, frustration, and an ungodly amount of arrogance roll over their expressions. And it is all aimed in my direction.
I grip my phone and don’t breathe again until the doors close.
Not once do I question why they are not chasing me. Yet another mistake.
CHAPTER 3
RYTH
“Wolfe was right. But I have to say, it took her longer than I expected to come looking for him.”
I grunt in agreement with Alaric as the elevator doors close. “Call in the undertaker and get this cleaned up before Nyx heads out of our territory. I don’t like the idea of calling Harlon, Cassius, or Santi for additional favors.” I don’t make it a habit of looking like I can’t keep my house in order. It’s bad for business.
“Sure, boss. Let me jump on that.” Marco’s scathing sarcasm earns him a stiff middle finger.
All three men form the Northern Alliance and are good people as long as you don’t cross them. Their club, Genesis, is on the East side of Chicago. It’s where people of the underworld gather to make deals, settle scores, and take out contracts.
That is where we come in on the more difficult jobs. They call, and we answer in exchange for a piece of their territory. I’m not greedy, nor are my partners. We rule over our slice of the pie with iron fists, but we are fair too. And we keep to what is ours. What happens beyond our borders isn’t our concern.
Or it used to be that way. Harlon called about a month ago needing help with a delicate situation—catching a serial kidnapper who preyed on young girls. The payout on the special request contract was nice, but I would have done it for free if it meant clearing out the trash. Crimes like those only bring in law enforcement where they are not wanted. It’s better to keep your own streets clean before badges try to connect dots and point fingers in the wrong direction.
We sent Wolfe out to fulfill the contract as our enforcer. It was supposed to be easy. No one is the wiser. Three days max.
Turns out, the subject Wolfe hunted was tied to a much larger organization. One that isn’t so easily taken out and that has deep ties to the Bratva. We’re strong alone. Stronger with the Northern Alliance. But to go up against a group as old and deeply connected as the Russian mob makes me want eyes in the back of my head.
“Does Nyx have her phone?” Alaric cuts into my thoughts.
“Yes,” I answer. It was part of the package with Wolfe. He wanted the job we needed access to his entire life including his sister.
