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“I never thought I’d see the day, Rider Rawson using some of his vacation allowance. Goddamn, it must be a special occasion.”
“It is,” I say, and then take a sip of my jet-black coffee.
“I reckon you’ve got a secret girlfriend coming to visit or something. It’s the only explanation. I’ve never seen you take a day off.”
“I did. Ten years ago, right to the day, in fact.”
Alex quiets. “Oh, fuck.”
I laugh darkly. “Don’t beat yourself up, Garcia. You didn’t know.”
“Shit, I could’ve worked it out. Why’d you let me start making jokes about it?”
I laugh again. “Because I knew you’d feel bad when you realized what day it is.”
Alex chuckles, but some of the steam has gone from it now. “That’s some real sick shit, Rider, you know that?”
“I know it. But it was worth it.”
Today is the twentieth anniversary of the day my parents were murdered by the Cartel, the day that changed my life forever. I was twenty-three when Mom and Dad were riding the subway one night, minding their own damn business, when two Cartel lowlifes decided to have some fun with them.
I was a boxer at the time, one fight from becoming the champ and already a big star – I had sponsorship deals, absurdly high pay for each fight, the chance to become a superstar – but I quit and joined the force the second I heard the news.
They murdered them like animals, did sick twisted things to my mother, and I made it my mission to hunt the fuckers down.
I did, eventually. They’re serving life right now.
But once a man learns how fucked the streets truly are, he can’t abandon them.
At least, I can’t.
“So what’re your plans for today?” Alex asks, his tone more somber now.
“I’ll visit their gravesite later on. For now, I’m going to work out like a motherfucker. My old man would have appreciated that. He was always pushing me to train harder. I’ll get some flowers for my mom. She always loved lilies.”
“Alright, bro. Give me some heads up next time, eh?”
“Nah, I like hearing you squirm. Try not to fuck up too badly without me there to bail you out.”
“Ha, ha, ha.”
We hang up on good terms, both of us chuckling, but the second the call ends my thoughts turn dark. Even if I managed to catch and imprison the bastards, there’s still a blazing fire in me, stoked today especially because soon – very soon – I will have lived longer on this planet without my parents than with them.
I close my eyes and try to bring their faces to the front of my mind, but it’s more difficult than it has any right to be.
I finish off my coffee and turn to my large penthouse – one of the benefits of living a separate life as a superstar boxer – and pace across the open-plan living room. I lay my mug on the obsidian kitchen island and stretch my arms over my head.
A good solid workout.
That always sets my mind straight.
I pause when the buzzer cuts through the apartment.
I haven’t ordered anything and nobody else uses the buzzer.
Visitors arrange beforehand. I’m not expecting anyone.
Perhaps it’s paranoia, but I’ve been a cop for twenty damn years.
I grab my glock and move over to the door, ignoring the buzzer when it blares again.
I look through the peep-hole, making sure this isn’t some trap.
But the corridor is empty.
Whoever’s buzzing isn’t being allowed up for some reason. I guess security must’ve stopped them.
I press the intercom button. “Gary?”
He’s ex-Army, one of the better members of the security personnel this building has to offer.
“Sir, we have a lady here to see you.”
“A lady?”
I almost grunt out a laugh.
I stopped looking for my lady a long time ago.
When I was a younger man I used to believe there would be a woman who could handle the darkness in me… but not only that. I used to believe there would be a woman who would ignite something in me, who could push away pieces of the dark.
It never happened and so I stopped looking.
“There must be a mistake,” I tell him.
“She’s adamant,” he says. “She says she needs your help. She says once you learn her name, you won’t be able to turn her away.”
What the fuck?
My instincts tingle.
Perhaps this is the Cartel making a play or the mob.
Both have been ramping up lately, and I’ve made it no secret I’m out to get each and every one of them.
“What’s her name?” I snap. “No need to keep me in suspense.”
“That’s the thing.” Gary sighs gruffly. “She won’t tell me. She says she’ll only tell you. She can’t risk me hearing it, apparently.”
My curiosity gets the better of me, even if I know it’s probably some prank. That’s one of the downsides to being a celebrity before joining the police. I’m more well-known than the average officer, which isn’t a good thing where the underworld is concerned.
