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Chapter One
Jayden
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ON THE FLAT ROOF OFthe high-rise building, the man yanked against the silver duct tape binding his wrists to the arms of the chair. A separate strip of tape covered his mouth. Blood trickled from one nostril, and the skin around his left eye had swollen with purple and blue bruising.
I walked a slow circle around the captive man.
“Do you know why you’re in this position, Ronald?” I asked.
Because of the tape, he was unable to answer with words, and his eyes widened.
I patted him on the shoulder as though we were mates. “It’s okay. You can nod or shake your head.”
He shook his head, frantic.
Around us, the lights of London stretched in all directions. The night sky was free from stars—their illumination cancelled out by that of the city. It was two in the morning, but the capital was far from quiet. Sirens from passing emergency vehicles cut through the air, and somewhere, far below, a car alarm sounded.
I arched an eyebrow. “Really? Now why do I think that’s bullshit?”
Two of my men stood back, their arms folded across their chests. They weren’t there for their brain power. They used to be my father’s men, but they worked for me now, Jayden Wynter. I was the head of the Wynter Syndicate, and though I was fully aware that my youth went against me, I was determined to make up for it in ruthlessness and brutality, so ensuring no one else ever fucked with the Wynter family.
Not that there were many of us left. With my father gone, and my sister, Hallie, married into the Cornell family, it was basically just me.
But I had my father’s legacy to uphold, and I wasn’t going to disappoint him.
Ronald mumbled something against the tape.
I wasn’t going to give him the chance to talk yet, but it would come.
“You’re here because I got word that you were seen at the Dagenham warehouse in East London a few hours before a bomb went off that killed my father.”
He shook his head again, but I didn’t believe him.
Ronald was no innocent. He worked for the Gilligans, and I’d heard rumours of how he’d cut off a man’s fingers a few weeks ago because the bloke had tried to push ahead of him at a bar.
I needed to know for sure. My gut told me that the Gilligans were responsible for murdering my father, but if I got proof, I wouldn’t hesitate in destroying their family, just as they’d destroyed mine.
A cool breeze tugged invisible fingers through my hair as I walked another circle around Ronald.
I was trying to navigate a city that no longer had my father in it. I’d always had Marlon Wynter to protect me from the stresses of running a criminal syndicate, but now that buffer was gone, and so was the lifestyle.
The business was precarious, and so much of it was done on reputation. I was fully aware of what my reputation was like—a young Jack-the-lad who was more interested in fucking around and enjoying himself than running a multi-million-pound business.
I’d always felt sorry for Hallie for the weight of our father’s responsibilities that landed on her shoulders. His expectations of her had always been far higher than they’d been of me, even though there was only a couple of years between us. Marlon Wynter had made no secret about the fact that he’d been reliving his youth through me. He’d encouraged my partying and screwing around, wanting me to enjoy myself. We’d both believed we’d had many years left before I’d need to even think about settling down or worrying about taking on the responsibilities of the business, and I regretted that now. I wish he’d armed me with the know-how I needed to reassure his business partners that I could handle things, just the same as Marlon Wynter ever did.
Uncertainty was a dangerous thing.
I reached to the corner of Ronald’s mouth, flicked the edge of the tape to lift it from his skin, and then tore the whole thing off in one go.
Ronald screamed in pain.
I smirked. “You think that hurt? You’re not going to last a minute. Now, answer my question, and tell me the fucking truth this time. Were you at the warehouse before the explosion?”
“No, I wasn’t. I fucking swear it. Who told you that? Someone’s talking shit about me, that’s all.”
I shrugged. “Oh, okay.” I took a step closer. “I’ll let you go then.”
