Page 32 of Taint My Soul

A waiter stands behind a slab of obsidian marble stocked with top-shelf liquor. At the far back, behind soundproof glass, the private negotiation room watches everything. Deals happen in there. Deals that don’t need witnesses. The light inside is brighter, harsher.

“There’s our guy. James.” Oliver cocks his head toward the man in the dark corner of the club. Virgil slaps a pat on Oliver’s back and grunts as he marches toward the culprit.

The man notices the commotion and springs forward, maneuvering through the guards and bolting toward the elevator. He’s a runner. Too bad I’m here to stop him. As he approaches me, he pulls a blade from his jacket and aims for my throat, but my open palm takes the blow instead. I slide him down, and he lands with a thud. My boots slams into his face and he passes out.

“Wakey. Wakey.” Virgil grins maliciously in front of the young man. He’d taken him into the private room and tied him up to the metal chair. He straightens up and folds his arms across his chest with a grin. “Feeling better?” He asks.

“You know why you’re here.” I lean in and whisper behind him.

Virgil drags a second chair across the floor slowly, letting the metal legs screech. My gaze snaps up to him before I rest my hands on our captive’s shoulder.

“I’ll ask one question, and I need an answer, James. A simple yes or no would suffice.”

He nods, breathing raggedly as he stills and waits. “Did you meet up with this man here last week?” I cock my head to Oliver, who stands in the dark corner, supporting himself with crutches.

“No! I swear. I’m not lying.” His hands shake violently, grasping at nothing, fingers curling and uncurling in rhythm with his racing heart.

Virgil kicks the chair’s leg to rattle the man’s spine. A whimper leaks out of him before he can swallow it.

“You ran with my shipment. Who are you working for?”

“Nobody, I swear.” He stutters.

“But here you are. On a Monday night, at the exact time you promised to meet up with my friend, Oliver.”

Something cold slices through the air as Virgil pulls a knife from his breast pocket and flashes it at the young man. “Speak, James. I’m not as lenient as my brother.”

“Wait, wait…” He stutters, wheezing. “It was a one-time deal. This guy approached us at a restaurant. He wanted us to raid your docks and asked us to speak with him.” The words tumble out of him, half-formed and catching in his throat.

“Did you get a name?”

“No, I didn’t, but you can ask Shaun. He roped me into this. I swear I didn’t want to do it in the first place.”

“And you’re supposed to meet with Shaun where?”

“At the Sovereign. That’s where he wants us to meet next. That’s what Shaun sent. I can show you my texts with him.”

I straighten up and slap his shoulder. “Put him away, Virgil. If his shit doesn’t check out, kill him.” I look at the laceration in my hand and sigh.

“And where are you off to?”

“Do what I said, Virgil.” I grip the door and head to the elevator.

He was right to ask questions. After what happened with Mason and me the other night. After seeing the way his gaze burned into me, he’s been stuck in my mind. Taking roots where he shouldn’t. Not just that but when he told me, and I quote, “fuck you Saint.” Not even my father’s men are courageous enough to speak to me in that manner. And I know I shouldn’t be anywhere near him for any reason, but here I am, taking the elevator ride to the top suite of the building.

Fuck, my life.

As the door claddings shut, my phone buzzes in my pocket, and I stare at the screen for too long before I take the call.

It’s from my father. “Dad?” I answer.

“Yes, son. I just got an invite to your cousin’s unholy wedding.” He curses under his breath. “A male bride.” I see the disgust in his face even though he’s far away from me.

“Is it Syn?”

My question goes unanswered as he continues to speak in his own interest. “I think this is a golden opportunity for you to step into the spotlight with a wife.”

A wife.