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Rain fell in sheets, pelting my skin with cool, sharp stings. If only I experienced emotions the way I did the rain, then I wouldn’t have to pretend. A portion of my brain was always devoted to gauging the reactions of others and then mimicking them. Like a color-blind pilot who faked knowing the difference between red and green in order to fly, assimilation was necessary, but exhausting.
Around the club I’d grown lax, allowing them to see a hint of the ever-present numbness that lived inside of me. It was a relief to let my guard down and have them accept me for the monster I was. That was no small thing considering I suffered the same affliction as my father, the notorious head of theBraterstwo,Yuri Kowalczyk a.k.a. The Butcher. It seemed in death, he’d done what he never could in life, get me to return to Chicago.
My bike hugged the asphalt as I sped around the last curve, my childhood home coming into view. The Gothic style mansion, with its gray brick exterior, single spire shooting up from the center of the roofline, and turrets at either end, looked exactly as I remembered. Heavily armed men patrolled the matching fifteen-foot brick walls, iron gate, and guardhouse. It was more of a fortress than home. Fitting, really, considering the countless horrors it had witnessed over the years.
The roar of the bike announced my arrival long before I rolled to a stop in front of the guards. Two of them stood shoulder to shoulder, stances wide, in front of the imposing wrought iron gate. One of them squinted at me through the rain, recognition lighting his craggy face. Marek had been with my father longer than most, had been a trusted lieutenant, so why was he doing the job of a foot soldier?
“It’s been a long time, Mikolaj.” He stepped forward, his short mop of curly hair more salt and pepper than black now as it dripped into his face. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”
“That makes two of us. Did Piotr not think I’d be brave enough to step inside without a familiar face to greet me?”
Marek’s dark eyes flashed at the mention of my brother. Piotr must have demoted him out of some imagined slight. He’d been itching for a crack at my birthright since we were boys, and with Father passing, and me MIA, he must be drunk on power.
“Something like that.” He never took his eyes off me as he called over his shoulder. “Open the gate and let the boss know his brother has arrived.”
Marek backed away as the gate swung outward, both men watching through narrowed eyes as I roared past. The two-lane road gradually sloped upward until it flattened out into a circular drive by the front door. Killing the engine, I got off my bike, staring up the steps. Those brown double doors were a sight I’d hoped to never see again.
One of them opened, the slight figure of my sister Bea filling the doorway, her blond brow arched. “Were you planning to stand out in the rain all day?”
She’d been but a girl when I left, our father’s blood still dripping from my hands. A girl who’d seen too much horror, yet here she was, a light of vitality shining from her pale blue eyes. I hadn’t wanted to leave her behind, but I knew walking out the front door meant I’d be marked for death. Whenever it found me, she’d be guilty by association, and most likely be taken out as well.
My soggy boots felt heavier than they should have as I trudged up the stone steps. Bea stepped back from the door to make room, her guard’s familiar face coming into view. From his post by the stairs, he met my eyes, inclining his head in greeting.
Bea ignored her shadow, her eyes wandering over me, a slender hand tracing over the new VP patch sewn onto my cut.
“They call you Hunter.” She pointed to the other side where my road name was sewn on. “Why?”
“Most of us within the club have nicknames. Mine comes from my ability to find missing objects, or upon occasion, the person who would rather remain hidden.”
“You know a thing or two about remaining concealed.” She raised her eyes to mine, a flash of emotion flickered in their depths, gone before I could even put a name to it. “I’m afraid you should have stayed that way.”
At the sound of heavy footfalls on the stairs, I turned my head. Piotr stood on the red carpet of the landing, sneering down at us, two guards I’d never seen before shadowing him. Time stood still for a second as we stared at one another, then as if catching himself, he pasted on a fake smile and started down the steps. He ran a hand down his royal blue suit jacket, smoothing it out as he moved. The little cunt had always enjoyed putting on a show.
“The eldest son finally returns.”
He opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. His smile fell as he stopped to dig around in his pants pocket for it, his lips returning to their usual sneer.
“What,” he barked into it. Looking down at me from his perch on the steps, he said, “Let them in.”
His entrance ruined, he hung up the phone, shoved it back into in his pocket, and jogged down the remaining steps. The slap of his dress shoes echoed off the black and white tile as he hurried toward us, his shadows seamlessly keeping up with him.
Out of necessity, I’d become an expert at recognizing in others what I lacked the ability to feel. Right now, I’d say my brother was positively giddy. Why, though, was a bit of a mystery. Not because I couldn’t relate, but because I’d never seen it in my brother before. At least, not while I was around.
He’d never hidden his hatred for me, and I appreciated that about him. It was much easier to watch your back when you knew where the knife was coming from.
“It seems our dear brother didn’t come alone after all.”
My hands flew across the keyboard, one of the three screens in front of me flashing as the red dot started to move. Jackpot! Metallica blared from my headphones as I clicked the mouse, zooming in. The background of the map was a blob of gray with bisecting white lines, and as I tried to move in for a closer look, the wheel of my chair caught on the tear in my plastic mat.
“Shit,” I muttered, lifting my butt and jerking on the chair.
A chair that leaned precariously to the side I could deal with, but this mat had to go. People always talked about how the government loved to waste money, but they sure didn’t do that around here. Pretty soon, they were going to ask field agents to throw bullets at the bad guys so they wouldn’t have to buy any more guns.
My red dot blinked, and I leaned forward, watching as it steadily moved northward. Drive baby, drive. In the next twenty-four hours, I’d have the route of the truck that just left the Hernandez compound mapped out on my screen. Their cartel was small potatoes in the grand scheme of things, but if the technology I’d developed worked, we’d be able to track any cartel shipment coming out of Mexico. All without them knowing.
Someone tapped me on the back of the shoulder, and I jumped about eight feet. “Holy balls!”
Ok, so the balls comment wasn’t very professional, but to be fair it wasn’t polite to sneak up on a girl and touch her without her permission. Slipping my headphones off, I held a hand against my chest, the fluttering of my heart as fast as a butterfly’s wings. Could a person in their twenties have a heart attack? If so, I hoped it wasn’t because they wanted me to take part in another sports pool.
