Page 6 of Princes of Carnage

“Anything?” I ask my people once everyone has returned from their sweeps.

Emmett shakes his head. “Just the usual shit, but nothing to tell us who this was. Or why.”

Everyone else mutters the same thing, nodding in agreement. Nothing.

“Right,” I tell them, keeping my voice firm and steady. “Then we go on the defensive for now. Switch up the routes for the runners. No one takes the same route twice, understood? We need to make it harder for someone on the outside to anticipate our movements.”

“Got it, boss.” Fallon nods, shielding his eyes with his hand.

“And tell everyone no unscheduled breaks anymore. I know it sucks, but until we figure this shit out, it has to be straight to business and then straight back. Anything else is too risky.”

Everyone nods, immediately ready to act on my words.

It’s a lot of power, and I spare a thought to hope I’m doing the right shit with it.

“Back to the shop, then?” Emmett asks.

I nod. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

3

QUINN

For as long as I can remember, the Enigma gang has operated out of a tattoo parlor. It’s one of those places that you wouldn’t look twice at from the outside, and it blends in with the businesses around it. The liquor store, the shitty little pizza place on the corner, the gas station across the street.

A buzzing neon sign hangs in the window, flashing TATTOO in a cycle of red, green, and blue, and there’s art on the tinted window, showing off traditionally drawn tattoos and old flyers for concerts and festivals.

Inside, there’s the usual shit: chairs for customers, a desk for taking orders and phone calls, and a low partition that separates the reception area from the padded tables and adjustable chairs where tattoos actually get done.

At any given moment, there are plenty of Enigma gang members hanging around, tattooing each other or customers, or just shooting the shit. It’s our base of operations, and a front for our work, so no one gets curious about all the people who come and go at odd hours.

Beyond the main area, there’s a back room with a fading EMPLOYEES ONLY sign above it, and I push through into it. My mind is still churning and my body is buzzing from the fight with the Princes.

Everything about them sets my teeth on edge, and I’ve got a restless energy in me that refuses to settle down.

I move through the back room to the door that leads down to the basement where we handle the private business. It served as my dad’s office and command center, and I spent a lot of time down there before he died.

Now it’s where I give orders and make plans for the future of Enigma, even though it always feels weird to sit where he sat and try to wield his authority.

Emmett follows me down, and I don’t stop him, even though I grimace a little inside my head.

He’s a good person to have around, a valuable member of the gang who gets shit done and doesn’t ask too many questions. I definitely leaned on him when I was taking over for my dad, and without his help, I probably would have fucked up way more than I did.

But sometimes he looks at me, and his eyes linger. Or they travel up and down my body with a spark of desire that I don’t like. It seems like he has a bit of a thing for me, and I try to shut it down whenever I can, finding excuses to not be alone with him.

He’s handsome enough, with classic features and light brown eyes. His dark blond hair is always falling into his eyes, and I’ve seen more than one woman sigh dreamily whenever he pushes it out of his face so he can see properly.

There’s no denying he’s someone’s type, but I’m not really interested in doing anything like that with him.

“So what do you make of it?” he asks me, leaning against the closed door once we’re settled in the basement. His eyes track me as I move around the office.

“I think I wish we’d found something that would give us someone to pin this on,” I tell him bluntly. “I hate being in the dark. I hate sending people out there, not knowing what might be coming next.”

He nods, a sympathetic expression on his face. “Yeah, it sucks. But if we back off, whoever it is that’s doing this will probably see it as gaining ground.”

“I know.” The words come out sharper than I mean for them to, and I sigh. “Sorry.”

He chuckles. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve got a lot on your shoulders right now. And we’re not really any closer to figuring out what this is all about. Unknown threats are never a good thing. It’s hard to fight an enemy you can’t see.”

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