Page 43 of Sinful Lord

Looking down at my phone, I double-check the coordinates Yasha sent me. I also memorize the names contained in her email.

Lothar Muller. Fritz Kahn. Sepp Klinsmann.

Apparently, these are some of the top dogs in the Berlin underworld. If anyone will know what happened to Melina, they will.

At least, that’s what Yasha said.

I’m still not sure I entirely believe her.

“Are you The Warthog?” a heavily accented voice seeps from the darkness ahead.

A disgusted laugh lifts my lips.

“So that’s what Yasha is calling me behind my back nowadays?”

“Hush, no names,” another hidden voice calls out.

“You expect an audience?” I ask, scanning the claustrophobic skyline. We’re walled in on all sides but one.

Only an idiot would come into a meeting like this blind. Yasha’s cameras provided me with an eagle-eyed view of the surroundings long before I decided to take the chance and actually show up.

Luckily, there aren’t many above-ground hiding spots here. If someone is listening, they’ll have to be on the same level as me. And that means they won’t be hiding long.

I’ll smoke out anyone who tries to ruin this.

Melina deserves that much.

“One can never be too careful.” Finally, a face appears to match that voice. And what an ugly face it is.

At first, only a single man steps out of the shadows ahead. He’s older than I expected, but definitely just as haggard. His hollow cheeks are so worn they look like they’ve been melted from his bone. Dead black eyes glare back at me.

Slowly, a crew steps up behind him.

I quickly count a dozen men. The number clenches my fists. Either Yasha warned these fuckers I was trouble, or they’re planning to push me around.

“I can see that,” I nod to his entourage. “Didn’t know I already had such a fearsome reputation in Berlin.”

“Oh, this isn’t for you,” the leader says, stoned-face. “There have been far more dangerous creatures lurking in the night lately.”

Immediately, I know he must be talking about the figure that chased Melina from the car crash. That’s what I want to know about most. Because somehow, he managed to stay out of sight for nearly the whole incident.

It’s like the fucker knew where the cameras were watching.

I must have gone over those recordings a thousand times, trying to get a freeze frame that I could use on a wanted poster, but the shadow barely showed his body, let alone his face.

“So, you’re looking for the same shadow I am,” I say, keeping my fists curled.

“No, not just any shadow,” the man shakes his head. “The devil’s.”

“Sounds like you scare easily,” I taunt, but my pulse is already quickening.

These fuckers don’t look like the types to be scared of anyone or anything. But even through the leader’s dead gaze, I can see an amount of caution that could easily be construed as fear.

“I think you’ll find that not to be the case,” the man practically whispers. “For example, we are not scared of you. Though, you are indeed an impressive specimen.”

“I’m guessing you’re Lothar,” I roll my eyes, remembering the sparse notes Yasha provided me. Lothar Muller is the supposed leader of this gang.

“No names,” someone hisses from behind him.