I finally got somealone timewith Ivan, and it proved pretty useless. He confirmed what we already knew.
They have a new product. It arrives in the docks every other Saturday. They disperse it at their clubs. They’re making a lot of money off it. It’s coming from the motherland. Something pure. Something we can’t compete with.
I’m starting to think it’s something we don’twantto compete with.
A grunt from Ivan draws my attention to him.
He’s bloodied and bruised, hanging by his arms from the ceiling. His newRFMcarving is about an inch tall, revealing he was a mid-level catch. Important, but not enough to get me in trouble. The tattoo isn’t bigger because he was cooperative. Which is rare for an older Russian bastard.
“One of my men will release you when they’re free,” I throw over my shoulder as I leave the warehouse.
I make a pitstop at the shower installed in my office in this warehouse. I have several offices throughout the city, since I have many areas around town I frequent, and walking around dripping in others’ blood is generally frowned upon.
I rinse off quickly and change into one of the extra outfits I keep here. My usual black t-shirt, black tailored tactical pants, and black boots.
I wear black because it hides blood, and also because color doesn’t support the menacing reputation I maintain. And I have to wear something active enough that I can chase someone down or interrogate in, but it has to be mainstream enough I can camouflage in a crowd.
I’m not sure how well I fit in though. With my buzz cut, tattoos, and muscular six-foot five-inch build, I don’t think even Matthias’s tailored suits would make me look anything less than terrifying.
You know who wasn’t terrified of me? Cecilia.
Well, she was concussed, so that probably affected her judgement.
No time for thoughts of her though. I have things to do. I need to catch Dom up on what Ivan told me.
***
Despite my better judgement, I stare at the old, decrepit building with no functioning locks.
I had no intention of making a pit stop here. But I also can’t even lie to myself and say it was on the way. The detour was miles long.
But I couldn’t help myself.
I make my way inside, scowling at how the front door opens so easily to a dangerous man. None of my stealthy break in skills are even needed. She shouldn’t be here. It isn’t safe.
I stalk past the elevator that seems to be on its last leg. I don’t trust it to lift my two-hundred-and-sixty-pound frame without snapping.
I take the stairs three at a time, too eager to slow down.
I stand in front of a familiar red door. A door I’ve only seen once before.
I could turn around.
I should turn around.
This goddess doesn’t need my darkness adulterating her light. She’s safer away from me.That’s a damn lie. I can keep her safe.She’s happier without me.Maybe she needs her hero. I don’t need the distraction.She could be so much more than a distraction.
It’d be smart for all parties involved for me to turn around, exit the building, and never look back.
I could never give her a white picket fence life, and she could destroy everything I’ve built.
I know nothing about her.
I need to leave.
So, I knock on her door.
Chapter 8
