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Kaya sounded exasperated. "Saint, we don't have time for this. Heir, do you copy?"
Saff's replied, "Yes, now I copy. I'm in position and making my approach. Rook, do you copy?"
And that was my signal. I took out my comm, put it in the mud, and stomped at it with the heel of my boot.
Just as I reached my position, I could hear the rumbling of a van.
I acted as if I was going toward the bar, and I could almost time the darkness falling over me to the second.
Three, two, one. Two big men grabbed me. I heard rustling, and suddenly all illumination vanished. Nothing but darkness surrounded me.
I was on my way back to hell.
WESTIN
I woke from my stupor bleary-eyed and with a mouth that felt like sandpaper. My kidnappers must have drugged me after they black-bagged me because I was groggy and disoriented with no sense of direction or where I was.
"You know, you are a hard man to find."
I heard the voice before the black bag was yanked off my head.
When I was finally relieved from the darkness and stench of the bag, I shook my head, careful to peel my eyes open slowly.
To my surprise, I was in an office, brightly lit with a gorgeous view of the South Bank. I could have easily been here for a meeting except for the fact that my godfather knew me well and left me restrained.
I lifted my head and snarled at him, trying to shake off some of the exhaustion. “Still a twat I see.”
He chuckled low. "What was that again? I didn't quite hear you."
"I called you a twat. Wish I could say it was good to see you again."
He chuckled low. "Even though you have given me a merry chase, let there not be acrimony between us. I'm just so happy to have you back in the fold."
I struggled against the restraints. “You say that like I'm here voluntarily."
He sat in a massive leather chair that looked like it was artfully worn in certain places to look older than it was. Nevertheless, his seating position looked much like a throne. Which was probably how he wanted it. His opportunity to exude power and strike fear in the hearts of his enemies. I knew him for what he was though, nothing more than a common thug. He just had a nicer veneer.
There was a time when I'd adored my godfather. I loved when he would come and visit me and my parents. But I had only seen him through a child's eyes at that time. When he took me in after my parents died, I saw the real man.
Hell, I'd even seen him dangle a man over a balcony. The difference was that back then I was afraid. Now I was determined to take him down or die trying.
He owed me blood.
“You know what I find interesting Westin? You left here hating everything about me, but you still found yourself in the hands of criminals. Not so smart after all, were you, kid? All that time playing chess and winning against me, and I still beat you.”
"That's the difference between us. This kid kicked your arse, and you, a grown adult man, couldn't let it go." We used to play all the time. And more often than not, I won. At first he'd taken my winning in stride, but as I got older and continued to win, it irritated him. Eventually he stopped playing against me.
He glowered at me. "I took you in, boy."
"Yeah, sure, if that's what you want to call it. What happened to my trust fund?"
He pushed to his feet and strolled over to me casually. Automatically, I worked against my restraints, the plastic of the zip ties cutting into my flesh.
"I never laid a hand on you." He leaned forward then, bringing his face close to mine. "After your parents died, I watched over you, Westin. I'm disappointed in you."
"Why am I here?"
"We'll get to that. I do want to know though, why you would ever leave all of this?" He spread his arms.
