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Chapter 1
Lyn/Havoc
The early morning sunlight on my face woke me gently. I smiled sleepily and reached for Tony. My hand touched the cold sheets next to me and I frowned. Slowly my eyes opened, and a wave of grief and pain slammed into me. He wasn’t in bed next to me. He couldn’t be. I curled into the fetal position and sobbed.
I had no idea how much time passed as I laid there, but every ounce of myself that had once been good and light, drained out through my tears. There was no more happiness in my life, only hate, anger, and a clawing desire for revenge. Without those things I would have given up three months ago and just ended my life. I would have gladly snuffed it out on the same day that I lost the three most important people in my world.
The scream of my alarm made me jump. I slapped it off and got out of bed. It was time to start the day. It was an important day. I let the shower wash away the tears and the headache that came with them. Every day. Every day had started this way for the last three months and four days. I wiped the steam away from the mirror and looked impassively at myself. I ran a hand down my left ribs where the vibrant tattoo was inked into my skin. I passed my thumb over the three wolves within the Aurora Borealis and then my gaze dropped to the one left mournfully behind.
Looking up, I stared into my reflection. The blue eyes there were dead, face pale, and mouth set in grim lines. I quickly went through my morning routine, ending with braiding my dark brown hair to the side so that it laid over my left shoulder and hung down nearly to my waist. I slid my jeans on, followed by a blue t-shirt, and my tan work boots. Glancing at the clock I snagged my wallet off the table—it was a little metal cigarette case—and slid it into my pocket. “Shit, I’m going to be late.” That wasn’t acceptable. Today was the day that Lyn Costa disappeared, and Havoc Quinnell made her debut.
Grabbing a muffin from the hotel lobby, I jogged down the street and barely managed to catch the bus. Lady Luck was taking pity on me today, though. I quickly jumped off the bus and eyed the seedy little bar. “The Ugly Duckling”. Ugly really didn’t describe the outside. Falling down, trashy, dank, those all said more about it than its actual name. Hopefully the inside was slightly better.
It wasn’t. Every head in the place turned as I stepped through the door. Something told me they didn’t get very many females in here and certainly none as tall as me. At five-eleven some of the men closest to me had to crane their necks so they could look me up and down. One smiled and started to get off his stool. My resting bitch face andget the fuck away from meattitude had him sliding back onto his seat uncertainly as I strode directly past him. I found the bartender at the back of the bar. Despite it being only nine a.m. there were more men here drinking their breakfast than I expected.
“Two shots of whiskey and a gin and tonic.” I tossed cash on the counter and grabbed the first shot and downed it. He slid the other drinks over to me after a few minutes. I took them and found a booth at the back of the room. I slid in and put my back to the wall, facing the room and the door. All of the men had gone back to their drinks. Perfect, I didn’t need some jackass messing this up for me. I took the second shot and chased it with the gin and tonic.
The door opened, letting a little sunlight into the dark, dingy bar.Here we go. The man quickly hurried back to where I sat. His gaze was shifting from dark corner to dark corner. He looked like a little weasel. He had a brown mop of hair, brown eyes, and was wearing a suit. The man was older, around my father’s age. I shoved away the pang of sadness that stabbed me at the thought of my dad and focused back on the man I was meeting.
He slid into the booth across from me, making the whole thing shudder. Everything in this place was shoddy. I was impressed that the booth benches held us at all. My eyebrows raised, but my face remained cold and expressionless. He let his eyes roam over me and we both sat silently taking stock of one another.
“Was there a problem?” I asked.
He shook his head, and steepled his fingers on the table in front of him. “No, I’ve got it.” He eyeballed one of the guys who had turned around at the bar to watch us. “Who is that? Do you know who that is?” His voice had gone up a few notches in pitch in his paranoia.
“No, ignore him. Did you get…all of it?”
He looked back at me and grinned. “Oh yeah, I got every single thing you asked for.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t been aware I was holding. “Good.” I slid a thick manila envelope under the table, and he grabbed it while simultaneously passing me one on top of the table.
“Care to buy me a drink?” He grinned.
I tossed an extra bill on the table. “It’s on me. Thanks for the help.” I downed the rest of my drink, clutched the envelope tightly, and stood.
“Remember, if you tell anyone about this…” I didn’t have a chance to finish before he was shaking his head.
“Won’t say a thing.”
I walked away from him, my insides churning. I wanted to rip into the envelope immediately, but I wasn’t about to do it here. I walked a few blocks to a park and wandered around for a bit, paying attention to every face, making sure no one was following me. Paranoia was a new part of my life. It would have to stay a part of my life if I managed to execute my plan. Finally, I sat on a bench and ripped open the envelope.
Shaking it out, a passport, driver’s license and social security card fell into my lap. I ignored them and pulled out the folded piece of paper. I looked at the eight names and a feral smile split my face. The hate in me burned hotter. These four items were well worth the sixty thousand dollars I had just forked over to the weasel.The nickname was too good not to use,I decided. Plus, I’d never asked for his real name. It was better that way.
I closed my eyes as I felt despair try to claw its way up my throat. I shoved it back down and watched as a family played with a fat golden retriever puppy across the park. My throat tightened and I wondered how my own dogs were doing. Shaking thoughts of the few remaining beings on this planet who cared whether I was breathing or not out of my head, I resumed looking through the contents in my lap.
I held up the driver’s license, Havoc Quinnell, and my face stared back at me. If I was picking a new first name, I’d figured I may as well go with whatever I wanted, and Havoc was what I planned on causing. As for the surname, I couldn’t use my married name and I couldn’t use my maiden name. But I still wanted something of my family’s. I’d had a distant relative, Kristine Quinnell, way back in the family tree. Her family had married her off to a neighboring warlord when she was about fourteen years old. It was the Viking way, back then. I used to love to hear my mom tell all the stories she’d found out about our ancestors from the study of our lineage she’d done.
It was fun to see where you came from. I’d certainly gotten my size from my Norwegian blood. Both my height and build ensured that I towered over most of the women in New York City. And if I went to New Jersey? It was laughable. I had no idea women were so tiny and petite until I met Tony’s family. I shook myself out of my memories. There wasn’t time for this. I found the nearest cell phone store, bought a phone with cash, and typed two contacts—one belonged to the weasel—into it. After removing and pocketing the old SIM card, I smashed the old phone under my boot and tossed it into the garbage can nearby.
I typed a quick text.Hey, it’s me, this is my new number where you can reach me. I miss you terribly. Give the pups my love.I glanced at my watch and ran to catch the bus again. It took me out of the city, into upstate New York. At my stop, I stepped off and caught a cab from the bus stop to Malavita. I smiled at the name, it meant Underworld in Italian. Tony had been teaching me Italian before…
A man walking out the front door of the stables knocked me out of my reverie. “Are you Havoc?” he asked. I nodded and strode forward to shake his hand.
“It’s nice to meet you.” The man was tall. Somewhere over six feet, dark hair, dark eyes, handsome enough and Italian.
“It’s nice to meet you as well.” He motioned for me to follow him. “My name’s Vince. I’m the manager here at Malavita. Do you have any experience with horses?” We walked past rows of the beautiful animals in every breed and color you could imagine.
“Yeah, I owned a farm just outside of Austin, Texas. We had horses, cows, sheep, pigs, and chickens, so I’m used to livestock.” He held open the door to a small office and I stepped through.
