Kings of Blood and Money (Underworld Kings)

The Mercer family is known for trafficking women, men, and anything else they can sell for sexual gratification. Most of his women are from European countries, brought over with the false promise of a job, a future, and they end up working in his clubs or being sold as sex slaves. It turns my fucking stomach.

“That, my son, is the nature of the world we live in, I’m afraid. Find out more about this client. I want to know everything about him before I make a decision.”

Sitting forward, hands braced on the armrest, I bite out, “You’re not seriously considering letting those vile fucks into this house.” This is where we live, where Freya is. I understand the nature of our world. I’ve killed innocent people to keep us safe. But women are a hard limit for me.

“You need to separate your emotions from your work, Remi. Sometimes, to do good, to be in the driver’s seat, you have to accept some evil.”

What the hell does that mean? I’m not emotional, I’m just not willing to become that person—to fall too fucking far into darkness, I won’t find my way back.

“How does Mercer know about the space we have here?” Noah asks, his body tense.

“I’ve known Antonio Mercer longer than you boys have been alive. There are secrets we share, and that’s one of them.”

“You talk in riddles. You know that, right?” I scoff.

The smoldering intensity of his posture tells me it was the wrong thing to say. “Or you’re just not listening.”

“You owe him,” Noah surmises.

“Something like that. Before we make arrangements, I want to know who this man is. What they’re asking doesn’t grant him anonymity.”

“I’m on it.” Noah jerks his head.

“I also received an interesting call from the film director.”

“Oh?” Noah raises a brow.

“The offer on the house, taking the debt from the price and lowballing him, bold move.” He casts a skeptical eye.

“I play the hand presented to me.”

“It worked.” His face morphs into a cat who got the cream. “The paperwork is being sent over as we speak.”

“That’s great news.” Noah removes a piece of lint from his pant leg.

“Yes.” Dad grins between us. “A real thumbs up.”

Snorting, I kick Noah’s foot, gaining his attention while I hold one thumb up, hiding the other in my fist.

“You could have taken the pinkie,” he adds.

“He could have paid on time,” Noah retorts, tapping me on the knee when Dad waves his hand in dismissal before going back to the computer screen.

When we get outside his office, I close the door and turn to Noah. “Do you want those men in this house?”

Buttoning his suit jacket, he swipes down the front of it. “It’s just business.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Noted.”

“So, what now?”

Looking me up and down, he frowns. “I need to change out of these pants.”

What the fuck is going on with him? “Why?”

“I don’t like the fit.”

The fit is perfect. He pays through the nose to have them tailor-made. Something’s bothering him, and it’s not the pants. The sooner he admits that to himself, the better. “Do you need me for anything?” I call after him as he ascends the stairs.

“I can change my own pants,” he calls back over his shoulder.

“Ha-ha,” I mock, flipping him off to his back.

I go through to the kitchen to grab a quick bite, catching movement from outside the window. Freya’s in the pool. I haven’t seen her swim in a long time. Nostalgia floods my thoughts. The months of me teaching her how to swim seems like a lifetime ago. She was a quick learner and loved the water.

Biting into an apple, I stroll outside. She’s submerged, gliding under the surface, doing a lap when I wonder to the pool edge, my reflection ripples across the water as she surfaces, gasping for air, our eyes clash.

“Hey.” I tilt my head, studying her face. It’s rare to see a girl her age not covered in fake tan and makeup. But Freya is anything but normal. That stuff doesn’t seem to register with her. She’s like discovering an untouched meadow. Rare. Beautiful. Special. There’s a peace I feel in her company. She has an ethereal aura. Having her here feels complete.

Without saying a word, she dives back under the water, kicking off the wall and heading to the other end.

She’s mad at me. I deserve it, but I don’t like it.

Pulling herself from the water, she grabs a towel from a lounger and wraps it around her body, robbing me of the view of her in a two-piece.

“New costume?” I grin, raising a brow, striding to where she’s wringing out her hair. Her demeanor is brisk. Her cool attitude toward me fills my lungs with ice. “Freya…” I implore.

Nothing.

“Freya, come on…” I hold my hands out to my sides, but she ignores me and struts inside, leaving wet footprints in her wake.