"All right, Heir, you're on."

  "Perfect. Now, sweetheart," Saffron added, "I don't want you to come over and break his nose, but I do want you to get a little jealous."

  I laughed under my breath when Saint said, "King, don't break anything."

  All I heard on the line was Lock's chuckle and the background noise from the bar. "Dove, can you reduce the noise for me?"

  Kaya didn't respond.

  Saint tried again. "Dove, do you copy?"

  All we got back was static.

  Shit. Montgomery's team was here.

  I moved as far away from my team as possible. If they saw what was happening… The blood rushed through my veins, and my stomach twisted. I tossed my two weapons to the side, knowing my team would find them and take them back.

  Saint tried his comm again. "Dove, do you—"

  "Copy," she answered. "I just… interference."

  Saff's voice came over the line again. "Copy… position…"

  Kaya's voice was back. "Interference… jamming… fix…"

  I kept my comms in for as long as I could, but when Montgomery’s team came for me, I would ditch them. Rogues would be able to track me with them, and for now, we didn’t want that. I needed in with Montgomery first.

  Saint's voice came back. "Team A, come in. Switch channels. Do you copy? Switch channels."

  When Kaya's voice was back, she was loud and clear. "I got it. One of our antennae looks frayed."

  If I was going to do this, I'd better do it well and keep my team safe.

  Saint sounded perplexed. "What do you mean, frayed?"

  "I got out of the van and climbed on top of it to check."

  "You did what?" Saint's voice was all growl.

  Kaya sounded exasperated. "Saint, we don't have time for this. Heir, do you copy?"

  Saff's replied, "Yes, now I copy. I'm in position and making my approach. Rook, do you copy?"

  And that was my signal. I took out my comm, put it in the mud, and stomped at it with the heel of my boot.

  Just as I reached my position, I could hear the rumbling of a van.

  I acted as if I was going toward the bar, and I could almost time the darkness falling over me to the second.

  Three, two, one. Two big men grabbed me. I heard rustling, and suddenly all illumination vanished. Nothing but darkness surrounded me.

  I was on my way back to hell.

  WESTIN

  I woke from my stupor bleary-eyed and with a mouth that felt like sandpaper. My kidnappers must have drugged me after they black-bagged me because I was groggy and disoriented with no sense of direction or where I was.

  "You know, you are a hard man to find."

  I heard the voice before the black bag was yanked off my head.

  When I was finally relieved from the darkness and stench of the bag, I shook my head, careful to peel my eyes open slowly.

  To my surprise, I was in an office, brightly lit with a gorgeous view of the South Bank. I could have easily been here for a meeting except for the fact that my godfather knew me well and left me restrained.

  I lifted my head and snarled at him, trying to shake off some of the exhaustion. “Still a twat I see.”

  He chuckled low. "What was that again? I didn't quite hear you."

  "I called you a twat. Wish I could say it was good to see you again."

  He chuckled low. "Even though you have given me a merry chase, let there not be acrimony between us. I'm just so happy to have you back in the fold."

  I struggled against the restraints. “You say that like I'm here voluntarily."

  He sat in a massive leather chair that looked like it was artfully worn in certain places to look older than it was. Nevertheless, his seating position looked much like a throne. Which was probably how he wanted it. His opportunity to exude power and strike fear in the hearts of his enemies. I knew him for what he was though, nothing more than a common thug. He just had a nicer veneer.

  There was a time when I'd adored my godfather. I loved when he would come and visit me and my parents. But I had only seen him through a child's eyes at that time. When he took me in after my parents died, I saw the real man.

  Hell, I'd even seen him dangle a man over a balcony. The difference was that back then I was afraid. Now I was determined to take him down or die trying.

  He owed me blood.

  “You know what I find interesting Westin? You left here hating everything about me, but you still found yourself in the hands of criminals. Not so smart after all, were you, kid? All that time playing chess and winning against me, and I still beat you.”

  "That's the difference between us. This kid kicked your arse, and you, a grown adult man, couldn't let it go." We used to play all the time. And more often than not, I won. At first he'd taken my winning in stride, but as I got older and continued to win, it irritated him. Eventually he stopped playing against me.

  He glowered at me. "I took you in, boy."

  "Yeah, sure, if that's what you want to call it. What happened to my trust fund?"

  He pushed to his feet and strolled over to me casually. Automatically, I worked against my restraints, the plastic of the zip ties cutting into my flesh.

  "I never laid a hand on you." He leaned forward then, bringing his face close to mine. "After your parents died, I watched over you, Westin. I'm disappointed in you."

  "Why am I here?"

  "We'll get to that. I do want to know though, why you would ever leave all of this?" He spread his arms.

  "You forced me to do your bidding, and I’d had enough. You wouldn't give me my trust fund. I'm not sure what part you don't understand.”

  He scoffed. "Your trust fund is in safe hands. You're telling me that we argued over money?"

  "An argument? Is that what you’d call it? I told you I no longer wanted to do your bidding, and you sold me off."

  Julian clasped a hand to his chest. "I did no such thing. You are being dramatic. I merely made other arrangements for you because you were inappropriately close to your charge."

  I clamped my jaw tight. I was not going to say anything about her.

  "See? Even now, you can't deny it."

  "I'm not talking to you about Nissa."

  He tsked. "You know, I've always admired young people for their ability to just throw caution to the wind. It's admirable. But you forgot your place. You thought you were allowed to think for yourself.”

  “You wanted to make me a killer.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You were always so dramatic. You were my property and should have done as you were told. Instead, you turned my daughter against me. And you dared to put your hands on her.”

  I shook my head vehemently. Had he hurt her because of me? Because in a moment of weakness I’d let my control slip? “I didn't touch her.”

  “If you say so. But it's all water under the bridge now.” He straightened. "You managed to successfully evade me for four years. Where have you been, Westin?"

  "It doesn't matter."

  "It matters if there are enemies that we need to clear."

  "I don't have any enemies… except for you."

  My godfather chuckled low this time, sitting on the corner of his desk while tugging up the leg of his Tom Ford trousers, just so. "You're home now, Westin. Let's not talk again about you leaving or escaping, or anything like that. What's mine is yours. Except for my fucking daughter."

  "I told you I'm not talking about Nissa."

  "Oh, we'll talk about Nissa because she is the whole reason you're here."

  I swallowed hard. Photos of her were all over his office. Nissa on horseback. Nissa at a school swim meet. Her swim cap was off, and her blond-tipped afro was dripping wet. She looked thrilled. Her brown skin and the silver medal she clutched gleamed in the sunlight.

  Every photo in the office was of her.

  "I'm not doing this anymore. If you want to kill me, kill me."

  My godfather scoffed. "Why would I kill you? You’re my godson. I just got you home. And I'm glad you still have such strong feelings for Nissa because you're about to do something for me."

  "If you think I'm going to help you in any way, you haven't been paying attention."

  He chuckled. "Yes, yes, I hear you. You're angry and rebellious. It's a shame, too, because you and I really would have made an excellent team. But you've made your choices, and here we are at an impasse. Except, not really. Because I know something that you don't know."

  I frowned at that. "I'm not a twelve-year-old boy anymore. You can't lure me in with secrets. You can't pretend to confide them in me. That doesn't work anymore."

  "I’ve only ever had your best interest at heart."

  I fought against the restraints again. "What the fuck do you really want?"

  I knew that this was not the way Gabe wanted me to handle things. He wanted me to come in apologetic, begging and pleading. Gabe wanted me to secure his trust, but I knew Julian would never believe it. Nor should he. After all, I'd escaped under the cover of night and stayed hidden for four years.

  "You black-bagged me and dragged me here. What is so urgent?"

  "Someone is trying to kill Nissa. You are going to keep her safe."

  The bottom fell out of my world. Someone was coming after Nissa? “What? Who?” I couldn't keep the anger out of my voice.

  “See, I knew I had the right man. We'll get to the whos and the whys later. Don’t run from me again, Westin. You leave and she’s exposed. And let’s not forget Mrs. Pembry. You won’t leave her behind again will you? Right now, you need to consider your prospects. I'll be back.” He signaled to one of his men. “Uncuff him. He won't go anywhere now. I trust you can take care of your own leg restraints, Westin?”

  I loathed him. He was right. But not for the reasons he thought. And then they left me alone in his office with only one way out, which told me there were guards posted on the door. How many was the real question?

  I was no fool. I knew for a fact I was being watched, so I was extra careful as I rubbed my wrists together and untied the leg restraints on my right foot. I activated the tracker on my boot and then pulled out the sliding compartment with my secondary comm unit inside.

  As I reached over to untie my other foot, I slipped the comm inside my ear before whispering, “I’m in.”

  2

  Nissa

  I sat in the waiting room, my heart pounding in my chest. I fidgeted in my seat as I waited for my interview.

  As a general rule, I made it a point to never want anything. That way I couldn't be disappointed. I had spent so much time telling myself I was fine with never getting what I wanted. But this time it was different; this time I wanted the job.

  Quinly Global was a renowned company with translation opportunities in sixteen countries, and I was fluent in six of those languages. The Mandarin and Russian were what made me attractive to companies.

  Government service was always an option, but staying in London was not something I wanted to do. There were other private options, but Quinly was my best hope for getting out of this city. What if I failed? How low would I sink if I couldn't get the job? My heart pounded harder as fear took hold. What if I did get it? Would this position be worth all I had sacrificed? Would it fulfill my dreams of freedom?

  After what felt like hours of sitting with nothing but the turmoil of my own thoughts, Jason Connor's assistant called me in. I stood and smoothed my hands down over my pencil skirt. The sweat from my palms transferred to the slippery material of my skirt, causing me to tug at it anxiously. I didn't want to look unprofessional by having wrinkles in my clothing.

  Shit.

  I covered the mark with the folio I was carrying and stepped forward with a smile. "Thank you."

  The assistant's smile was warm as she noticed my nervousness. “You’ll be great,” she said kindly.

  I smiled my thanks and followed her down the hallway to Mr. Connor's office. He was the COO of Quinly Global and a wunderkind. The youngest C-level executive in the company's history at only thirty-three years old.

  My heart raced as I stepped into his office. He was already seated behind his desk, but he rose when I entered.

  He was quite handsome and well dressed, a far cry from the pictures on the internet and in magazines. We shook hands and then he asked me to take a seat across from him.

  All of this tension was for nothing. I had this, I could do this. All I needed to do was focus on getting out from under my father's thumb, one way or another.

  Taking a deep breath, I looked across the desk at Mr. Connor and smiled confidently. It was time to show him what I could do.

  He began by asking me why I wanted to work for them and what made me stand out from other applicants. I took a deep breath and then launched into my prepared list of qualifications. Fluency in six languages, experience working with international firms, familiarity with global markets, etc.

  And as he listened intently to every word I said, he seemed impressed by not only my knowledge but also my passion for this opportunity.

  Finally, we got onto the topic of incentives. Salary expectations, vacation policies, and so on, which was something that had been stirring anxiety inside me all day long.

  But as it turned out there were no surprises. Quinly offered competitive wages plus a benefits package comparable to similar positions elsewhere. The only thing left now was an offer.

  When all questions had been asked and answered, Jason smiled warmly at me across his desk before standing up again to shake my hand one more time.

  My heart hammered as I offered my best smile. I'd killed this interview. I'd done everything I could do. This job was the thing that would finally get me out of here.

  But as electricity hummed in my blood and I stepped onto the lift, my phone buzzed and I pulled it out.

  Evil Father: Come to the house.

  I had been summoned.

  Which, knowing my father, could be good or bad. I never knew with Julian. But as I wasn’t due for one of our forced, awkward dinners for another two weeks, my heart couldn’t help the excited uptick. Maybe he finally has some news.

  Julian and I were the epitome of oil and water. We’d never learned to work together. The more he tried to control me, the more I tried to buck the system, within parameters of course. But it was like I was speaking binary and he was speaking Latin.

  Not to mention, I had a few thoughts on what he did for a living. Nothing like learning your father is a glorified criminal from your schoolmates to really color your feelings about him.

  Mostly it was rumor and conjecture. At least that’s what I told myself. After all, how would he still be walking around free? At the same time, I knew enough to know he worked with shady characters and I wanted nothing to do with any of that.

  That was one of our biggest points of contention. He wanted me to take over a part of his business. I, having no desire to be controlled, refused. It was just one of the points we constantly argued about.

  But the one area we agreed on was my sister. He’d been trying to help me find her for years. I sometimes worried that if a man with all of his connections couldn’t find her that something had happened to her. But I couldn’t let myself think that way.

  She was out there, somewhere trying to find her way back to me too.

  Because of our legendary arguments, we’d come up with our arrangement. Julian, for the most part, didn’t interfere with school and my personal life, and once a month I was forced to show up for dinner or an event with him.

  For the most part it worked.

  Does it though? You weren’t allowed to study at Edinburgh like you wanted. You couldn’t study photography like you wanted. And he still vets all your mates.

  Okay, so he still very much had his thumb on me. But that would change soon. With graduation looming I’d soon be free.

  Today, I knew declining the summons wasn’t an option. Julian’s personal bodyguard and driver, Felix, had been outside my door when my roommate, Jamila, and I left the flat this morning.

  I did my best to tamp down my nerves as I stepped out of the Bentley when Felix opened my door. I politely took the umbrella from him and jogged up the stone steps in front of my father's house. On either side of the stairs sat massive stone lions. Behind them were several potted plants leading up to the glass front doors. A massive portrait of my father hung in the foyer above a sitting area. I had grown up at Montgomery Manor, at least for part of my childhood. I hated everything about the place. I couldn't wait to leave it.

  But of course, no matter what I did, my father kept yanking my strings, tugging me back into the fold, and all I wanted to do was escape.

  If you play your cards right, you will finally be free of Julian Montgomery.

  All I needed to do was finish school and I was out of here. For years, I’d been squireling away money. Hiding it. Getting ready for my grand escape. Somewhere he couldn’t reach me.

  There is nowhere he won’t look for you.

  My father's butler, Dennis, opened the door with a tight smile. In the nearly ten years I'd known him, I had never known the man to show a genuine smile. “Jeeves, you’re as uptight as ever, I see.”

  “Madam.”

  “Jeeves, you've known me for years, yet you still call me madam. Maybe you should try my name.”

  The man never showed emotion beyond pressing his lips firmly together. “Madam, you insist on calling me Jeeves. My name is Dennis.”

  I give him a smirk and a tap on the shoulder. “Touché, Jeeves. Touché.”

  I took a left toward my father's study, but I was surprised to find him in the massive living room. “Oh good, Nissa, you're here.”

  “Well, you did summon me. We had a deal, Julian. Can I assume that I’m here because you have good news for me?" I knew better than to get my hopes up too high, but it couldn’t be helped. Just the kernel of hope was enough to keep me going.

  As always, my father was dressed impeccably. He wore an Italian silk tie that brought out the blue of his eyes, and his bespoke suit was expertly tailored. He made an imposing picture.