Carter Reed (Carter Reed 1)

“My ass, you will,” Noah griped, but the fondness was evident between the two. As they moved for the fighting ring, I studied more of the pictures. There were more of the two dressed in business suits and still more of action photographs. Noah was in the ring, a feral snarl on his face, his biceps bulging as his fist was clenched and ready to make contact with his opponent. The word “Knockout!” was written underneath. My eyes drifted over the photograph and I sucked in my breath. Carter was in the background. A large and imposing man was next to him. This man sent chills down my back. If I ever saw him in person, I would’ve been terrified. A scar ran across the entire length of his forehead and his eyes were dead.

I glanced to Carter now. He and Noah had moved to the ring to stretch together.

That was his life then. Sometimes I forgot about whom he worked with and what he had done. That was the stranger side of him, the side he kept hidden from me. It came out. I glimpsed it at moments, when we had been ambushed by the cars and with Ben, but it was different. Those moments had been in-the-moment. He had been defending me, but there were times when he didn’t have to defend people.

I drew in a ragged breath.

My heart felt like a hand was squeezing it tight.

I couldn’t forget that side of his life. But then he glanced over and his gaze pierced mine. The hand tightened once more of my heart before it pounded with renewed vigor. It broke free of whatever hold that was and a different sensation flooded me.

Addiction.

And something else. A dark strength.

No matter what path Carter would take us, I’d go with him. I was becoming like him.

“Emma. Come over here. I want to teach you this move.”

I turned and followed. I’d always follow.

The bigger man was waiting when Carter stepped out of his car. They had picked their old meeting place for a reason. No one would be around the abandoned warehouse, but three cars circled the block. Men got out and spre

ad around.

Carter nodded in greeting. He hadn’t been thrilled to hear from his old colleague, but he wasn’t surprised. There’d been no word on Franco’s body. There should’ve been word. The radio sounded from his man. “All clear, sir.”

No time was wasted. Carter asked, “What’s the reason for this, Gene?”

The older and bigger man grinned, but it looked like a sneer. The scar across his forehead stuck out that night. The moonlight illuminated it, casting a shadow over the man’s eyes. Carter didn’t need to see them. He knew this man too well and he knew his comrade was troubled.

“Why couldn’t I have called just to catch up?”

“I’m out.” Carter’s eyes flashed a warning. “What’s happened?”

“You’re not that out,” Gene sighed. His wide shoulders hunched forward as he slid his hand into his front pocket. He pulled out his phone and checked the time. “You know why I’ve called.”

“His murder was called in.” Carter’s jaw clenched. “What happened to the caller?”

“Disappeared.”

“What do the Bertal Elders say?”

“They aren’t saying anything, which is why I need you to come back in.”

“No.” The answer was swift.

Gene growled, “Check your attitude, boy.”

“Check yours!” Carter snarled back. “You’re not calling the shots for me. You haven’t for a long time.”

“Fine,” the older man bit out, his teeth ground against each other as his hand fisted around his phone. “We’ll do this your way.”

“I want a meeting.”

“That’s not smart.”

“They didn’t hold up their end. A body was supposed to be delivered to me. It hasn’t and now their man disappears?”