Page 58 of Trapped Truth

“I’m being realistic.”

“I thought you hated them.”

“I don’t have to like the people or their stupid security company to use their resources for our benefit. This isn’t the time to turn away free help.”

It’s not exactly a love declaration, but where Raye is concerned, that’s a damn miracle.

“Set up the meet.” I clap her on the shoulder. “Keep moving, and check in daily. If my father can find us in a hospital, he can certainly find you hiding in a warehouse.”

“You got it, boss.”

“Watch each other’s backs.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Grumbling, Spyder takes my hand in a firm shake. “Be careful out there. You might trust those bastards, but I still remember who burned our house down.”

“That was a different time. We have an understanding now.”

“And you think they’ll let you continue to straddle both sides of the law forever?” He huffs out a breath.

Far beneath the surface, a shrivelled-up seed of doubt cracks open to lay down spider-vein roots. No, I don’t suppose they will. Once my usefulness has expired, that grey area will become a lot less murky.

“Watch yourself, Blaine.” Concern tightens Spyder’s features.

“I can handle the Anaconda Team.”

“But at what cost?”

Unable to answer, I stride from the office to catch up to the others, all the while wrestling with his words ping-ponging around the inside of my skull. To me, the cost is simple. Not easy. And not free.

When all is said and done, I’ll have to make a choice.

The Phantom. Blaine Madden. The empire I fought tooth and nail to rebuild after Sabre’s decimation. My home—or at least the only home I ever knew. Until I met Ember, that is.

She’s the other option.

But that entails becoming the person she thinks I can be.

CHAPTER 11

EMBER

GOING TO CALIFORNIA - JOE P

The dawn light brings a rare sight for the city.

Thick, billowing snow.

I can’t remember the last time I celebrated the holidays, let alone a white Christmas. In the years before I was trafficked, Tom and I would alternate hosting. Sometimes, he’d travel up to stay with me in Liverpool where we’d eat takeout in our pyjamas in front of the TV. Other years, I’d drive down to London, and we’d have Christmas dinner at some fancy hotel on one of his many credit cards.

Then I was taken.

In Mexico, despite being in captivity, I was always aware of the festive season passing. Señor Gael liked to travel and celebrate with friends, while some of his men swapped with lower ranking members to be with their families. It meant I’d be left alone for long periods of time with no scheduled fights or beatings.

That in itself felt like a celebration, even if aching grief and loneliness always surfaced. I had some dark times locked in my cell, picturing what my brother was doing for Christmas back home. Or worse still, torturing myself with memories of childhood festivities. For many years while growing up, Warner joined us. He always played footsies with me under the table while our mother carved the turkey.

“It’s snowing!” Axel’s nose presses against the car window, fogging up the glass. “Holy shit, I never thought I’d see white stuff falling in London of all places.”

“We haven’t had snowfall in years,” Warner replies from the driver’s seat.