Page 39 of Taint My Soul

What’s worse is that Mason didn’t check in for work for two days. No phone calls. No emails requesting a day off. And I was worried, but I didn’t text even though I’ve been tempted to. Maybe he’d decided that working eight hours at a finance company wasn’t something he wanted to do in the meantime.

Yet my eyes hover over my phone screen where his phone number appears. I don’t want to entertain the idea of reaching out to him. I have far more important things to worry about than someone who works in my company, someone I used to fuck. Like tonight, I was meeting James’ other guy, Shaun, and he had a lot of explaining to do.

Cross had also investigated him and found information we could use against him. He had also sent me pictures of the man who killed the boys who set our warehouse on fire. And if everything goes right, I’ll have my answers before the end of the night.

My brother’s photo ID appears on my screen, and I take his call. “I just arrived at the Sovereign.” Bernard slows the car in the parking lot.

“I’m waiting in the alley. I’ll flank the motherfucker if he tries to escape.” He says.

“Alright.”

The car engine dies, and I hop off, casually strolling through the labyrinth of parked cars to the entrance of the establishment.

The tall glass doors framed in black steel reveal a long room paneled in dark walnut, with low amber light setting the space in a glow. Beneath the soft lighting, the floor stretches out in polished black marble veined with silver. Around me, deep leather armchairs cluster around low tables, and curved velvet booths line the walls.

I walk toward the sweeping bar carved from a single slab of stone. Behind it, floor-to-ceiling shelves display rare whiskey, cognac, and aged scotch in precise rows. Two men in white outfits stand at the workstation.

Oliver sits in the end booth with the man he set up the meeting with. I pull off my jacket and sit on the tall leather barstool that lines the counter. The young man bobs his hand with a smile as he asks, “What would you like, sir?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” A familiar voice cuts through the air as a tall, good-looking, young man with light brown skin, black hair, and brown eyes walks into the workstation, dressed in a black tailored suit. It’s my cousin, Syn. My father’s late brother adopted the twenty-nine-year-old when he was eleven. He inherited half of the city after my uncle’s death as the mafia underboss of Black Viper Syndicate. Every business related to his father’s half of the empire answers to him. He runs it ruthlessly. Painstakingly. Just like his father.

“It’s nice to see you here, cousin.”

“Hello, Syn.” I smile. “When were you going to send me a wedding invitation?”

“I didn’t think you’d honor our invitation. You’re Tobias’s son.” He sets down an empty glass and fills it with scotch.

“But I’m not Tobias.”

He chuckles. “Don’t worry, you’ll get an invite.” He slides the glass to me. “What brings you to my territory, Saint?”

“I have a debt to collect.” I smile and wrap my fingers around the glass, taking a swift sip.

It doesn’t take long, and glasses crash against the floor. My head snaps toward the commotion, and the man’s eyes widen in raw horror when he sees me. He doesn’t waste a second. He lunges toward the door only to crash into Virgil, who appears out of nowhere.

“Don’t kill him on my property,” Syn whispers whilst I finish up my drink.

I leave his words unanswered as I head out to the exit. Virgil drags the culprit into the dark alley, and I follow suit. As I stalk into the sharp corner, my gaze drops to the teary-eyed man, looking up at Virgil with trembling hands.

“There’s our guy,” Virgil whispers.

“You know why you are here,” I whisper, voice low, barely a vibration.

Virgil drags him and shoves him against the wall. His furious gaze cut like a blade, and his clenched fists wrapped around the quivering man’s collar. “I’m going to ask you one question, and I need the answer.” I move in front of him as Virgil steps aside. “Now, all you have to do is tell me the truth. A simple yes or no would suffice.”

He nods, breathing raggedly as he stills and waits. “What did you take from me?”

“Nothing! I swear. I’m not lying.” His hands shake violently, grasping at nothing, his heart racing.

My fist collides against his jaw, and blood spills from his lips as he crumbles to the ground. I crouch in front of him, forearms braced on his thighs, face level and uncomfortably close.

“You ran with my cargo,” I say softly. He shakes his head, breathing hard, eyes wide as if he’s going into a panic attack. I sigh exasperatedly as I rise in one swift motion. I unclip a blade from my belt.

He stiffens.

“If I wanted to hurt you, I’d slit your throat,” I whisper. “Now tell me, did you or did you not meet up with my soldiers a week ago to steal from my shipment?” I hope I don’t have to use this blade. If I do, I will peel off his face and scar him beyond recognition.

“Yes, yes.” The answer spills. “But it was only a… a one-time deal. We… we steal the… coke and… and sell it in the market to raise some money. I promise it was only once. It’s not going to happen again.” His words stumble out in jagged bursts, half-formed and catching in his throat.