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Prologue DECKER
I stare at the blood on the floor, the liquid soaking the carpet and bathing my soul in sins.
I didn’t cause the death at my feet, but the guilt taunts me regardless.
This isn’t the happily-ever-after I expected for this meeting. I only wanted to help Hunter. And in return, I’d be helping the woman who has made a remarkable change in him. The same woman he knocked out minutes ago for her own safety, then watched in livid rage as Torian, the psychopath we’re now indebted to, carried her from the scene of the crime, leaving us to deal with the aftermath.
I can’t think straight through the whiplash.
One minute we had the upper hand, the next that same hand is shoved up our asses and Torian is playing ventriloquist with our lives.
It’s a fucking disaster with consequences set to haunt me to my dying day, because now I’m trapped. Not in this office in the back of a prestigious restaurant, but in this world.
I’m no longer a spectator, dabbling from the sidelines.
Now I’m in the thick of it.
“Keep your mouth shut.” Hunter gets in my face. “Neither of us saw what happened. We were talking. They were arguing. Then hell broke loose. You got it? If they ask for specifics, tell them you can’t remember. Shock has fucked with your head.”
I nod, because, seriously, shock has fucked with my head.
“You got that?” He grabs my bicep and gives me a shake.
“Yeah.” I yank my arm free. “I’ve fucking got it.”
The police close in, their indecipherable instructions booming from a loudspeaker near the front of the building.
“This is going to get messy.” Hunter’s comment is serious. Not one hint of a joke.
My attention drifts over the frontal lobe splattered across the floor before I drag my gaze to his. “Somehow I think we’re past that point.”
We predicted a mess. We knew getting out of here wouldn’t be easy. But this… This—the lifeless bodies and the taint of gunpowder in the air—this shit is a whole different dimension from mess.
This fucked up disaster is beyond repair, and certainly beyond salvation.
It’s the hole that keeps on digging.
The shitty gift that keeps on giving.
“This is the police,” a voice shouts. “Is anyone in here?”
“Yeah. Back here.” Hunter jerks his head at me, silently asking if I’m holding myself together.
I nod, pretending this crap happens on a daily basis.
It’s no skin off my nose.
I lie to the cops about double murders all the damn time.
Piece of cake.
The squishy crap on the rug that looks like brains isn’t going to haunt me for years. Nope. I’ve already resolved that shit.
I’m chill.
Hunter narrows his eyes, and I can practically hear his thoughts. He’s well aware one slip will land us both in prison where we’ll have to hold our ankles during shower sessions until we’re old and gray.
“We’ve got this,” he murmurs. “Torian has cops in his pocket. He’s not going to let us fry. So man the fuck up and keep it simple.” Eight hours later…
“They questioned you for a lot longer than they did with me.” Hunter’s stare pins me in place from the other side of the dining table. His words are a harsh accusation despite the lazy way he cradles the beer in his hands.
“Excuse me?” I take a sip of scotch and mimic his relaxed demeanor even though there’s so much shit churning in my head I swear I’m a few brief contemplations from a stroke.
“The police station,” he clarifies. “Your interview took twice as long as mine. Did you keep your mouth shut like a good little boy?”
“Yeah, I kept my mouth shut,” I sneer. “But rumor has it that you didn’t. The cops mentioned something about you sucking pole like it’s going out of fashion, just so you could get out before di
He grins, but it’s not kind. It never is. “You’re edgy. Did little Deckey sing like a canary?”
I glare and down a gulp of alcohol to stop myself from reaching across the table to smash his face against the thick polished wood. “Question my integrity one more time, asshole, see how far it gets you.”
I didn’t squeal on Torian. If I did, I would’ve been long gone hours ago instead of sitting in an unfamiliar house with the asshole breathing down my neck, claiming I’m his new poster boy for criminal activity.
Apparently, I work for him now.
I no longer report to Hunter. I’m not the big teddy bear’s faithful sidekick who tags along on the occasional stakeout or hacks into some random joe’s personal information.
I’m balls deep in Cole Torian’s pocket.
His pathetic little bitch.
Yay, me.
Hunter leans forward and shoots a quick glance over his shoulder, checking on the man of the moment, who talks on his cell. Torian seems to be relaying the same fictional story to everyone in his employ—Jacob, aka his out-of-town drug ru
Implausible? Hell yes.
Will anyone dare to question him? Fuck no.
Nobody who knows his power and reach would be that stupid.
Hunter meets my gaze, his eyes intense as he murmurs, “Are you sure this is the life you want?”
“Oh, yeah,” I seethe. “This shit is right up my alley.”
I roll my eyes then return my scowl toward the living room. This house is dripping in dirty money—the artwork, the furnishings, the architecture. And it’s not even Cole’s house. It’s his older sister, Layla’s. The same sister who listened to the fictional murder story and didn’t question its lunacy. Then she nodded like a good little puppy when her brother told her to go get her kid from a friend’s house.
She’s either scared out of her mind, or an obedient little doll.
I don’t know which is worse.
“Have you thought about ru
“Of course I have.” I keep my voice low, making sure not to disturb the psychopath in the room. “But waiting for a bullet in the back of my brain for being a traitor isn’t something that fills me with giddy excitement, ya know?”
“I’ll help you run. You’re stupid if you stay.”
I scoff. “Jeez, Hunt, you always know how to make a guy feel special.”
“I’m not joking. If you want out, say the word. It’s now or never.”
Maybe I should take him up on the offer.
Walk away. Start over someplace new.
But I’d have to leave all this behind. Every little bit. And not just the money. I’d have to forget what I’ve seen. What I’ve done.
I came looking for trouble. I wanted destruction.
Well, maybe not to this degree.
Back then I wasn’t entirely stable. I wanted to be a part of this stupid game of chicken. Now I don’t know what the hell I’m doing setting down roots in the middle of a minefield.
Torian falls silent, taking a gulp from his glass of gin and tonic before starting another call.
“Let me think on it.” I push from my chair, grab my drink, and stalk outside the glass doors to get much needed fresh air on the back deck.
Hunt’s right. If I don’t jump ship now, I never will. Not unless it’s in a body bag. And I guess that doesn’t really matter much anymore, either.
My life doesn’t have a high value these days.
I’ve got nothing. Nothing but this.
Yes, my family is out there somewhere—my parents are traveling the country in their camper van, trying to outrun their nightmares. My brother is living in the middle of desolate-as-fuck Oregon, basking in seclusion. And my sister is…