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Chapter One
RAVEN
I stare straight ahead, ignoring the muffled cries of the gagged man tied to a chair before me. There’s a loud ringing in my ears which always comes whenever I’m in this sort of situation. Somewhere in the distance, I hear my name, and suddenly, the ringing stops and I’m back in the room.
“Raven.” It’s Vinn, sounding unimpressed, and when I eventually look at him, his face is full of anger. He doesn’t like being ignored. “Bag the gentleman’s fingers and have them sent first class to his lover.”
By ‘lover’, he means Raymond Clay, a powerful crime boss who seems set on stepping on Vinn’s toes. Of course, no one knows Raymond is gay, not even his trophy wife of eleven years.
I squat down in front of Martyn James, a city lawyer who never asked for any of this. He just fell in love with the wrong guy. We can all sympathise with that. I pick up his ring finger, one from each hand, and drop them into a plastic bag. I make the mistake of looking into his eyes as I stand. Chains told me a million times to never look them in the eye. He thinks I can’t cope with the guilt, but I can, sometimes better than any of the men in this room.
Blade wipes his hunter’s knife down his jeans and tucks it away. “Let’s see if Raymond loves you as much as he tells you when he’s three inches in your arse,” says Vinn, adding a smirk. Martyn whimpers, his eyes burning into me, asking, no, begging for my help. I turn away and head for the door. I need to post these before five or they’ll end up sitting in the post box, stinking the thing out.
As I pass, Vinn catches my arm. “You okay?” he asks in a low voice, not wanting anyone to know he’s checking in on me. I nod stiffly and pull free from his tight grip.
Anna is waiting in the office for Riggs. They have a date night, which I heard her gushing to Eva about over breakfast this morning. She glances at the clear, bloodied bag. “A food bag? Seriously?”
I shrug, smiling. “Vinn’s tight with his cash, so he likes to keep costs low.”
“Are they gonna be much longer?” she asks.
“Just finishing up. Off anywhere nice?” I make polite conversation as I parcel the fingers up like it’s normal, everyday mail. I guess, in my world, it is.
“He promised me a full night of his attention. He’s even turning his phone off. I booked a show and dinner,” she says, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. He’ll hate it. Then, she laughs, and says, “I’m kidding. We’re going to a steakhouse and we’ll more than likely end up at the Windsor for a few drinks before he tells me he’s tired.” She lowers her eyes. “I’m not complaining, he can’t help being tired,” she mutters, and I smile sympathetically. I’m sure Riggs’ recent cancer battle has them both drained.
“Well, enjoy your date. I have a shift downstairs in the club, and then I’ll most likely fall asleep to a Netflix show that’ll bore the shit outta me.” I grab my coat and the parcel.
“You should have a night off,” she says as I head for the door, laughing. “I’m serious,” she adds. “You’re always working. Why don’t I arrange something with the girls? We could go for cocktails,” she suggests, but I hesitate. It’s not that I don’t want to, but I’ve never really gelled well with women. I was the girl at school who all other girls hated, and I just found hanging out with guys easier. And in some ways, that’s still the case. “Of course, if you don’t want to,” she continues.
“That’d be great, Anna. Thanks.” I wince as I rush down the stairs. I’ll come up with an excuse as to why I can’t go, as I always do.
Riggs steps out of the room, and I crash against him. He steadies me, laughing uncomfortably. “Sorry,” I mutter.
“Where’s the fire?”
I hold up the parcel. “I gotta get this to the post office.”
“You did well in there,” he says. “I’ve never let a woman handle business or be a part of it,” he adds thoughtfully, “and with you working for Vinn, I guess it’s not my call. But you’re becoming more and more like one of the guys every day.” I smile stiffly, then brush past him. That’s me . . . one of the guys.
* * *
I work a full bar shift, my feet aching after having been here since ten this morning. I help Vinn in the office during the day, then work bar shifts in the evening, sometimes here at Vinn’s club but also for Anna in her micro-bar. I’m stocking up the fridges when I feel Vinn approach the bar. “You look good on your knees,” he jokes.
“What can I get you, boss?” I ask, arching my brow as I look up at him. The other bar staff already hate me because they think I’m his favourite.
“Boss,” he repeats, smirking. “Is that how you wanna play it, Corvo?”
I push to my feet. I used to swoon when he called me the Italian word for ‘raven’. Corvo . . . it just rolls off his tongue in that sexy way he has. But since he announced the upcoming wedding, his upcoming wedding, I feel less and less turned on by his smooth talk. “Do you want a drink?” I ask again, arching a brow.
He narrows his eyes, a smile still firmly in place. “I’ll take a scotch.”
Grabbing a glass, I pour him a double measure. “Anything else?” I ask brightly.
“Yes, less fucking attitude,” he mutters, taking his drink and heading back to his table.
* * *
After closing, Brick sits at the bar. He works the security here, so we’re almost always on shift together, and since he’s also a Kings Reaper, I get a lift home after my shift. “Why are you single, Raven?” he asks thoughtfully.
