Page 131 of Arran's Obsession

The two men stopped talking. At the hall entrance, Cassie peeked around.

I lowered my gaze on Gen. She was upset, hurting for her lost friend, but that was no reason to spill shit. “This isn’t the time or place.”

“Isn’t it? When would be? What if I had been the one killed? Would you look back with regret or just move on because lovewas never on the table? You could walk away and get on with life as normal.”

“Like the good councillor?” I snarled. “Are you comparing me to him?”

She gave a sarcastic laugh. “To a psychopath? No. What could you possibly have in common?”

Deep emotion rose in a wave. This conversation needed to stop, but I needed her happy again, too. I had no fucking clue how to get back to what we had.

In tandem, my and Shade’s phones blared with alerts.

He snatched his up faster than me. “Something’s activated the security system.”

I clicked into our network. On one of the camera feeds, a person scaled the wall of the building, keeping to the shadows but not evading our system as they climbed the bars of a window. They got so far then scrambled and fell, our measures keeping them from getting any higher.

Leaping up, I paced to the window and dialled Tyler whose team were here for a couple of days.

He picked up. “We’re on it.”

“Who?”

“Unknown. One person, I believe. They were around the front then circled. My team converged, but the guy’s gone. Fucking spray paint left on the wall.”

Paint? For fuck’s sake. The camera triggered was on the west end of the warehouse. Whoever did it must have been lurking for a while ahead of making their attempt. Another message to me, undoubtedly.

“On my way down,” I told him.

Shade was already at the door.

I went to Gen. Kissed her. “Keep this door locked.” I switched my gaze to Jamieson.

He held it, no words needed. He’d protect both the women under our care.

Then it was time to hunt down a graffiti artist.

Chapter 38

Shade

Out of the lift, Arran went right to go to the back of the warehouse. I took the opposite direction. He didn’t ask, and I gave no explanation. I didn’t need to.

I’d heard his call. Whoever had sprayed paint on the exterior walls was either a moronic kid with no idea who he was messing with or a person who wanted to make a point with a cheap shot.

My money was on the latter.

If I was that individual, I’d be out there still, watching for the reaction I craved.

In the darkest corner of the warehouse’s grounds, the south side by the river, I exited and slipped straight into the shadows, an expert in using them like my crew name suggested.

Voices and radio static came from Tyler’s team. One strolled the perimeter, coming my way. I held still until he passed. This was exactly why I needed to be out here and doing this. No gun for hire could know the place as well as me, and while I respected Tyler, he didn’t usually work the warehouse. He was Arran’s intercept guy, heading out to ports and transit locations to take on new trafficking routes that popped up.

The trade that never died.

Alone again, I haunted the night-drenched surroundings. Instinct tugged my senses. I swung my gaze to the front of the building. Well lit and on a pretty brick-lined promenade at the end of the river walkway, it was the least likely place for trouble. Aside from fights between clubgoers at kicking-out time. Yet I followed the intuition, making it to the corner to give myself a view of the entrances to Divide and Divine.

From the street, a car accelerated.

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