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I turned my back on her. “That man murdered his own father to gain power. Why in all the world would I ever treat him like his promises mean a damn thing?”
I felt her disapproval, but I wouldn’t acknowledge it.
Redmond was a means to an end. They were all a means to an end. My supposed family, my friends, my sister, poor Penny, all a means.
I wouldn’t let them bury me. I wouldn’t let them treat me like an outsider anymore.
I’d take what was rightfully mine and the world would bleed before I was finished with it.
But first, I had to handle Redmond.
Chapter 4
James
I smelled her everywhere.
In the basement, in the backyard. Coming from the flowers and the grass. She was pungent. She was smell itself.
Erin filled me like a bouquet of roses.
I’d done a lot of bad things in my life. I joined the marines when I was eighteen years old and did three tours of duty in Iraq. I killed, watched friends die, followed orders, and came home a broken wreck. I signed up with a mercenary force and returned overseas, killed some more, committed more than one war crime, took part in a few atrocities, and came home again, jaded and ruined.
I met Erin years later.
I’d seen men like her before. Ruthless men, smart men. Clever men willing to do anything to get what they wanted. I thought I was like that once—a monster able to go to any lengths to achieve my objectives.
Maybe I was. Not as much anymore.
I’d softened in my old age.
Erin made me want to be better. She found me when I was at rock bottom, fired from my mercenary squad after a botched rescue mission left too many bodies behind. I was drinking myself to death when she pulled me from the gutter and gave me a second chance.
I was almost twenty years older than her, and yet she commanded me like a grizzled general, and I followed her like a puppy dog.
She came downstairs late several days after that Oligarch bastard visited. I hated that man. The sight of him made my skin crawl. He was too handsome, too perfect. Something wicked and broken hid behind his cocky smile.
That head had been sawed off with a knife like the one he carried in a sheath at his hip.
“You don’t mean you’re really going?” I watched her carefully from the kitchen table. I had a spreadsheet of all our men, our gear, and our finances in front of me. It was all in code, and I’d destroy it when I was finished inventory. She barely glanced down in its direction. She had all that information up inside of that incredible, beautiful head of hers.
“I don’t have another choice.”
“Stay and fight. We’re adding men every day. You don’t need—”
Chika came down next. She drifted like a ghost. I shut my mouth when Chika glanced in my direction.
That woman was dangerous. Not as dangerous as me, but a close second.
Erin shook her head. “Believe me, there are a thousand things I’d rather do here. Kill several people, for starters.”
“Speak a name and I will do it for you.” It was dramatic, but the truth. I’d kill for her. Dip my hands in blood. Do all the things I never wanted to do again, for her.
“I’m sure you will. But your job is simpler. While I’m gone, I need you to keep growing our power.”
“Erin—”
“Enough.” She held up a hand. I knew that look. She’d be angry in a moment if I pushed.
I desperately wanted to push.
But I bowed my head instead. “How many men?”
“As many as we can afford. When I return, we’re going to war.”
A chill slipped down my spine.
War. I’d been to war. I didn’t know if she understood what that word meant.
Guns echoing off buildings. The scream of friends falling, dying. Snipers everywhere and nowhere at once. Panic, terror. Blood, so much blood.
That was war to me.
And if she wanted it, I’d give it to her.
“I’ll do my best.” I still had contacts in the mercenary companies. I could pull men from their ranks—seasoned, skilled men. They wouldn’t be cheap, but the gold we’d taken from Orchard’s bunker cache would last a while.
“Good.” She smiled and hope blossomed in my chest.
Perfect Erin.
She turned and walked to the door. Chika followed. I stayed behind, watching her go.
She was so beautiful. Her every step sent a quake through my heart. She’d make a glorious Queen of the Oligarchs. She was brilliant and poised and just psychotic enough to rule with an iron fist. Her reign would be drenched in blood and terror, but it would be long and it would be glorious.
I wanted her so badly it hurt my stomach to imagine.
“You’d better behave,” she said, looking back before she stepped outside.
“I will. You can trust me.”
