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I sigh again, trying to focus on the next step of infiltrating the Guild. My mind keeps wandering back to my MC. We were in the middle of dealing with the Night Slayers, a rival motorcycle club attempting to take over Rima. If Maddox does keep his shit together, he'll be able to stave them off until I return and deal with them once and for all.
"We need to stop by their headquarters first," I say, leaning forward slightly when the driver attempts to turn off the main drag.
"Yes, sir," he mumbles.
I don't know him, but Nemesis gave me the company name, stating they were discreet. I'm banking a lot on the hacker being fully committed to the leaders in Synd. Helms said he uses her, so I assume she's on their payroll. She snorted when I asked her not to tell anyone what I was asking for, as if I'd insulted her. I don't like putting that kind of control in someone else's hands, but I didn't have a choice.
Getting into the Guild the usual way would have taken too long. The hacker may have built an entire persona for me, but she couldn’t manifest a family member for me to sell to the Guild. Not that I would have asked her to. I’ve already had to make sacrifices I’m uncomfortable with to weasel my way in. A shiver rolls through me at the thought of MacKenzie being subjected to the shit the Guild does. For as strong as she is, she wouldn’t survive.My soul wouldn’t survive.
"Stay here and wait for me."
I wait until he nods before I climb from the backseat, straightening the cuffs on a suit I rarely wear. The guards at the main doors avert their eyes as I approach, pulling them open, and I stride through.
Several men attempt to stop me, but I'm moving too quickly for them to catch my attention. The last thing I want to do is sit around and make small talk. Especially because their version of small talk is distasteful at best. Their perversions turn my stomach, leaving me want to burn the building down with them inside.
As I reach the top of the third staircase, I turn the corner, relief washing over me when I spot Aelia's door. Then Grant slips into view, approaching her door, and I quicken my pace. His hand wraps around the doorknob seconds before my body slams into his, crushing him into the wall. Gripping his wrist, I wrench his arm behind his back, and he cries out.
"Can I help you with something, Grant?" I snarl in his ear, and his face drains of the ruddy color usually staining his cheeks.
"I was sent to wake the bit," he snaps, but fear laces his tone, and I revel in it.
"I suggest you let me take care of what's mine," I growl.
I grip his hair, smashing his head into the wall before I push back. He groans, knees giving out, and I sneer in disgust as he rights himself. Kicking him in the knee would be a good reminder, but I need him terrified.
Once Aelia convinced me not to kill him, I started thinking about how I could use him. Grant has been with the Guild for a long time. If he's terrified of me, he might let something slip. Or I can force information from him.
"Grant," I call when he's almost around the corner. "Did you happen to speak with Jenkins?"
He scuttles away, his body tense as he checks over his shoulder several times, then disappears. I glance the other way, making sure the hallway is clear before I lift my hand to knock. Aelia's voice rings in my ears, hissing at me for being polite. Instead, I rip open the door, and she shrieks. Stepping inside, I slam it shut behind me.
"Was that believable? The yell? Because it sounded a bit flat to me," she says as she pulls on her high heel.
"Your voice was a little high, but I'm sure on a camera they won't be able to tell."
I lean against the wood, my head brushing the ceiling, and scowl.
"What's got you in such a bad mood?"
"This room is a shithole. I'm getting you out of here as soon as I secure a room of my own."
Her eyebrows crawl up her forehead, then she smirks, throwing me off. Since the kiss in the alley a week ago, she's changed. It's as if she left all her insecurities next to the door, sloughing them off as we went back inside. I wish she could be like this all the time. If I get my way, she'll have the chance. Even if I don't succeed in dismantling the Guild, I'm getting her out.
"Only men with council seats are afforded private rooms. I doubt Jenkins will give you a spot, no matter how much money you throw at him."
She stands, teetering on her tall heels. With the sloped ceiling, she has to duck, but it doesn't hide the outfit she's wearing. It's gaudy and two sizes too small. I swear the back has tassels, though what the purpose is, I don’t know. Every time she shifts, I'm blinded by the light bouncing from the sequins covering what little material there is.
"You can't wear that," I grunt, crossing my arms.
"You realize they pick my clothes, right? It's not like I have a walk-in closet attached to the actual closet I sleep in."
I scoop up a skirt, slightly longer than the shit she's wearing. Tossing it at her feet, I search the small space for a regular shirt, finding only a ratty tank top she must wear to bed. Finally, I spot a blouse, if it could even be classified as one, tucked under her blankets.
"Wear this," I say, handing it to her.
"That's for when I serve. I'm pretty sure someone spilled beer on it."
"We're going outside. You need to—"
