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“Keep the door open—”
“Nah, I don’t think so.” Darien slammed the door in the face of the officer who was lingering outside, looking like he had no idea what to do. Darien strode to the interior window that gave him a clear view of the people sitting at their cozy little desks, every single one of those people peering at him with wide, terrified eyes, and proceeded to pull down the blinds and slant them shut. “Clearly, it was your goal to try to intimidate me by sending one of your boys to find me, so I think it’s only fair that I intimidate you in return.”
He faced Finn, giving him an opportunity to argue. The only sound in the room was the swaying tassels jingling against the aluminum blinds. When Finn didn’t say anything, Darien strode to the polished mahogany desk and plunked down in the chair across from him. He leaned back, put his feet up on the desk, and crossed one ankle over the other.
Finn’s attention went to the mud that was caked to the soles of his black combat boots. Darien swore the guy’s eye twitched. “Get your feet off my desk, Cassel.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, it’s far too comfortable.”
Finn blew out a sigh through his nose and laced his fingers on the desk. “I was hoping we could’ve had a civil conversation—”
“You should’ve thought that through before sending a peace officer to track me down at my girl’s school and threaten to arrest me.” Darien leveled him with an icy stare. “You could’ve just called.”
Finn’s brows shot up. “No offense, but the number of times you’ve answered your phone are too few and far between for that offer to sound enticing.” Irritation flickered across his features, accentuating the frown lines framing his mouth. “Did you know your voicemail is always full, or do you just not bother to delete your messages?” Darien didn’t bother to listen to them either, but he wasn’t here to discuss that.
“What do you want, Finn?”
The detective considered his question, a muscle in his jaw twitching as his eyes once again flicked to Darien’s filthy boots, so close to his oh-so-valuable paperwork. “There’s a new Head Detective in town,” Finn began, his voice a bass rumble. “Where he comes from, Darkslayers don’t exist. He has plans to stamp them out in Angelthene, too.”
“I’m quaking in my boots.”
“This isn’t a joke, Cassel. He has the means to take you and your Devils down, and he won’t hesitate to do it. You’re number one on his list, followed closely by Delaney and his Reapers.”
Finn had Darien’s full attention now, if only because he was curious to know what this was all about, and why the new head honcho of the MPU was more concerned with taking down Darkslayers than the thugs and thieves that stirred up unrest in the city’s many districts. If the law was smart, they worked with Darkslayers, not against them. It sounded like this guy was off to a real bad start.
“I have a business proposition for you,” Finn began.
Darien allowed for a beat of silence. “I’m listening.”
“Detective Nolan wants to take down Angelthene’s illegal arms trade even more than he wants to take down people like you. I convinced him it would be worth our time to approach you with an offer that would not only help you, but would also help us. As I’m sure you are aware, Randal didn’t just have a large role to play in the routes the dealers use to smuggle the weapons into the city, but he was also a major negotiator with the clients the dealers have had decades’ long relationships with. And with Randal now gone, the assumption is that his former responsibilities will fall to you.” He nodded in Darien’s direction, not seeming to notice how hard Darien was gripping the armrests of his chair, how threatening the look in his eyes had become. They were half a second from turning black—he could feel it. Oblivious, Finn concluded, “His successor in every regard.”
Leaning forward in his seat, the anger inside him a snake coiled to strike, Darien bared his teeth. “I want nothing to do with my father’s throne of shit.”
“That’s fine.” Finn held up his hands. “But if you change your mind, and if you accept my proposition—”
“That’s a massive if, Finn.”
“You’ll have to pretend that you want every bit of that throne. I’m asking—begging you to consider my offer. If you can get in close enough to get us some names and locations, and we can take these sons of bitches down, you and your Devils will be in the clear. I give you my word.”
“And how do you propose I do that? Considering Randal’s dead, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s already managed to steal his title.” It had been on his mind since Randal died, but the last thing he’d wanted was to get into a new mess, especially when he’d just got out of one.
And especially when he’d never been happier in all his life. Why would he want to invite trouble to his door when he now had Loren to consider? He’d made a promise to keep her safe, and that promise would last for as long as she lived. The decisions he made affected them both now, and he would make them wisely.
“You would’ve heard by now, no?” Finn gave him an incredulous look. “You—Darien Cassel. I mean, come on.” He leaned back in his seat and crossed an ankle over a knee. “Nothing happens in this city without you hearing about it.”
“You flatter me.” Darien forced himself to relax in the seat. He sighed…drummed the armrests…looked about the room. Eventually, the Surge stopped knocking, leaving him safe for a little while longer, the colors of auras and energies fading into regular vision. “Does this have anything to do with the murders caused by Blood Staves?”
The look shining in Finn’s eyes suggested he was impressed by the question. “It has everything to do with the murders caused by Blood Staves. We might’ve put Cain Nash behind bars with your help, but after some recent events, we’ve realized we might’ve been chasing after the wrong players in this game.”
Darien made a sound of agreement in his throat. He always knew going after someone like Cain wouldn’t fix the problems the law enforcement wanted to fix. Cain was only one of many people who brought danger to Angelthene’s streets. You couldn’t take out a measly pawn and expect the king and queen to fall too.
Finn was watching him. Waiting.
Darien watched him back.
“I’m doing this because I like you, Cassel,” Finn said. “Even though you’re a pain in my ass, and you should be behind bars too, I like you, and you have a lot to offer this city that you can’t give if you’re locked up in Blackwater.”
Darien had been inside the walls of the twin prisons known as Blackwater and Darkwater Penitentiary before, but only as a visitor. It was hell on earth, a cold and hostile facility where the worst of the worst were sentenced to rot. A place where his father had served time on multiple occasions, only to be let off far too easily, slipping through the many cracks of the unjust system. Blackwater was the worse of the two; it was more like one big fighting ring, a place that just might kill you before you had a chance to face execution.
