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Ever since I’d seen it when I was cataloging what I’d found in the motel room of the once-Prez of the Satan’s Sinners’ MC, Bear, it had been haunting me.
Bear had annotated on the back:United Brotherhood?
That was what I’d been trying to figure out.
I’d recognized three of them. Three random officials from three different countries.
One, a high-ranking politician in the Chinese Communist Party. Two were princes, easily renowned for their playboy ways back in their heyday. But it was the fourth one…
I recognized him.
I just didn’t know how.
No names were on the back. Either Bear didn’t know who they were or he didn’t feel the need to make a note of them.
I wished he had.
It would have saved me a lot of torture.
The photo wasn’t recent, but the men in it weren’t much changed from the corpses I’d left behind. They were sitting in a room together, heads dipped as they conversed. What was interesting was the camera angle—it peered through a gap.
The subjects hadn’t known they were being photographed.
“Think about it, Eddie,” I mused out loud as I studied the stranger’s face. “You can die peacefully or you can keep quiet and I can make you regret the day your mother gave birth to you.”
Something mumbled spilled from his lips. I grabbed a hold of him and stopped the pendulum swing of his body, then I ducked and popped two fingers into the holes I’d made in the cling wrap that fed air into his nose. Kinda gross, but torture was messy. I needed more than a couple of Tide PODS to keep my whiteswhitethat was for fucking sure.
As he lost those streams of oxygen, I felt his panic increase before I retreated, tugging the clingfilm with it.
That was when I knew I’d done my job right—the panic didn’t abate. Itsurged.
“You try to scream or alert a guard, you’ll do more than choke on your vomit,” I warned as I carefully tugged on the gag I’d stuffed in his mouth.
He gulped down air the moment he could, then he pricked my hope like it was a balloon. Much like the others had, he rasped, “In our Brothers we trust.”
My jaw clenched as I accepted what I had to do tonight.
It sure as hell wouldn’t be pretty…
“If you want to play it that way, Your Highness, then play we will, but there’ll be no winners in this game. That’s a promise.”
* * *
An hour later,a bare fifteen minutes before the guard was due to patrol this section of the palace, Prince Eddie finally gave me what I’d been seeking.
Anton Kuznetsov.
At last,I had a fucking name.
Now, I just had to figure out how the hell I knew him.
3
CONOR
FURIOUS ANGELS - ROB DOUGAN
WINTER - PRESENT DAY
