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Chapter One
Lake
Sixteen Years Old
They say nothing good ever happens after two a.m.
It’s a little after that now, and I don’t know whotheyare, nor do I care.
Deciding to ignore the proverbial expression, I sneak out of my warm room and creep across our massive, green back lawn. Knowing I’m doing something I shouldn’t sends a thrill of electricity through my veins. Moving stealthily, I make my way to the shed I’ve been forbidden from going anywhere near, tucked away in the back corner of our yard.
For as long as I can remember, my dad has told me I’m not allowed near it under any circumstances. However, my curiosity has become stronger in recent months, drawing me in. I need to know more about my father’s business.
But there are two things. One, I don’t follow the rules. And two, if you tell menotto do something, you can bet your last crisp dollar bill that I will do it.
I know nothing good will come from leaving our home’s sanctuary so late at night, but I push the thought right to the back of my mind, curiosity overpowering the need to keep myself safe.
I’m only sneaking down here now because I saw Dad and a couple of his work colleagues enter the large shed through its side door at around two in the morning. My dad hardly ever comes down here, let alone at this ungodly hour.
I can’t be blamed for my nosiness, though. I’m only up because I was woken by a not-so-quiet SUV pulling into our driveway. Of course, I had to peek out my window to see what the commotion was all about. On the other side of the garageis an extended driveway. The noise of the squeaky metal gate allowing access to the backyard was what actually roused me. The SUV made a beeline to the back shed before three dark figures exited the vehicle and opened the door to the trunk. Two of the shadowed figures struggled to pull out something large and bulky, then headed straight into the shed. The third figure stood by and watched before following them in.
More than likely, the third person was my father, judging by his posture. It was very out of the ordinary for Dad to be out here late in the night. Or, in this case, was it early morning? All I knew was that I totally needed to take a closer look and investigate what was going on.
Icy grass crunches under my feet as I tiptoe forward. I do my best impersonation of a cat-burgling ninja by sneaking through the shadows closer to the shed. When I’m only a few feet from the shed, I stop dead in my tracks at the sound of a muffled groan and a couple of wet thuds. The rumble of my father’s voice is so distinctive I can pick it out in the commotion, but he’s speaking so quietly I can’t make out what he’s saying.
The anxious feeling of excitement builds in the pit of my stomach. I shouldn’t be here. It’s not only the thought of getting caught but also the trouble I could get into that is making my blood pump fast through my veins.
While creeping ever closer to the shed, I spot a hole in the wall where a hose used to pass through it before Dad had an old heater removed. I quietly position myself where I can press my eye up to the gap in the wall.
A man is tied to a chair that appears to be bolted to the concrete slab in the middle of the shed. He has a swollen eye, a bloody nose, and blood dripping from his mouth like crimson drool. Dad is standing a few feet in front of the man but doesn’t seem to have a drop of blood on him.
Standing right next to my father is one of his newest goons,Elio ‘Blaze’ Diavolo. He only goes by Blaze, though, and it totally makes sense. He ishot, and the sight of him makes me feel like I’m being held in a tight, warm hug. He is young-looking but with a slight youthful gleam, not in that baby-faced kind of way. His face, although beautiful, still looks worn, hinting that he’s already been through a lot in his life. His dark hair falls into eyes that look soulless and black.
Zeroing my focus, I keep my eye on Blaze, watching his biceps and forearms bulge and ripple as he rubs his knuckles. Maybe he just punched the guy tied to the chair.
Usually, Dad takes me with him to sign up his new goons so they know who I am and because their job is also to keep me safe when needed. But I was at school trying to improve my grades when he was reviewing Blaze’s contract. I only know his name because I overheard Dad talking to his right-hand man, Massimo, about the new guy running a job for him last weekend.
I don’t know why he goes by Blaze, but the sound of his name does something to me.
Blaze.
It dances around my senses. Mainly a tingling sensation, traveling over the surface of my skin in a light burn.
Massimo, however, has been with Dad for as long as I can remember. I have always felt off about him. A part of me wonders if it is because of his greased-back, dirty-blond hair that should have been left back in the 80s. Or maybe it’s his beady, gray eyes. He sets off an anxiety deep within me that I only feel when he is near me, like my body is telling me I need to run.
I do not trust him, but Dad does, which, of course, is why he’s in the shed too. But thankfully, for the sake of my body’s response, he is at the end of the room furthest from me.
“Tell us where you got the product,” Dad says in a clipped tone.
“I ain’t tellin’ you shit,” Mr. Tied-up spits, and a bloody glob ofsaliva lands at Dad’s feet.
Blaze turns his head to Dad, waiting for the green light. My father’s head dips slightly in a nod I would have missed had I not been paying attention. Blaze steps forward and, in the same motion, lands a solid punch to the guy’s cheekbone. I love that he doesn’t hesitate. He looks sexy with blood smeared across the knuckles of his right hand.
Shit. I think I’m forming a schoolgirl crush on this goon.
I squeeze my eyes tight until I see spots. When I open them, Dad has his back to the guy in the chair, appearing to be paused in thought while looking at the ceiling.
“Enzo, maybe he doesn’t actually know anything?” Massimo pipes up in his I’ve-smoked-two-packs-a-day-for-most-of-my-life voice. Dad snaps his head toward Massimo.
