Page 7 of Turmoil's Target

The liquid warmth spreads through my body, momentarily distracting me from the task at hand.

He raises an eyebrow at that but says nothing else. Instead, he asks Doc for a beer for himself and motions for me to follow him outside.

We settle ourselves onto one of the lounge chairs.

The cool night air is a stark contrast to the heat inside, and I can’t help but let out a sigh of relief.

Spark turns, his expression serious beneath the glow of the moonlight. “You sure you’re ready for this? Going undercover isn’t a walk in the park, especially with this situation. The Bernards have it out for the club.”

I take another swig from my bottle before answering. “Yeah, man. I got this. Hell, I trained my whole life to be in the midst of luxury. I’m just gonna be myself—literally. Minus the club aspects. Damon said he wants me and Jolt to have a ‘normal’ kinda life, so I’m gonna do that.”

He nods, his gaze drifting away into the darkness. “Remember, you’re not just doing this to prove yourself to the club, Turmoil. The whole club’s counting on you both.”

“I know,” I reply, my words coming out in a whisper against the hum of the music pumping from inside the club. “I’m not gonna let anyone down, and neither is Jolt.”

Spark sighs heavily. “Just be careful, man. I’ve heard stories of what happened up in Billings. Bama was shot. Stiletto was kidnapped. We’ve been lucky not having too much heat on us, but now shit is changin’.”

I nod, knowing all too well. “I know, but this is what we’ve been preparing for.”

I finish my drink and stand, patting Spark on the shoulder. “I’m going to go pack. Damon said me and Jolt go to the new place tomorrow.”

He nods again, taking a long pull from his beer as he looks out over the clubhouse grounds. “Stay safe, Turmoil.”

“I always do,” I reply, turning back toward the mobile home Spark and I share.

Once inside the quiet of my room, I start packing.

I grab some clothes, my basic necessities, and a few keepsakes from home: a silver cross necklace that belonged to my grandmother and a picture of my family.

As I look at the picture, I can’t help but sigh.

How could the blood we share divide us?

Isn’t it supposed to unite us?

CHAPTER TWO

Seraphina

The bright Las Vegas sun warms my face as I slide my sunglasses on and step out of my Ferrari convertible.

Palm trees sway in a gentle breeze that carries the faint scent of chlorine from hotel pools.

I inhale deeply, soaking in the perfect weather on this early April day.

My stiletto heels click against the pavement as I stride toward the towering glass and steel casino before me.

This city pulses with an energy all its own, a heartbeat of excess and indulgence.

And for the uber-wealthy like myself and my family, it’s our playground.

I’m looking forward to seeing my mother and catching up over a glass of Cabernet.

Previously, our trips to the States used to be all about shopping sprees and spa appointments.

But these days, we have more serious matters to discuss.

Revenge plots aren’t exactly typical mother-daughter bonding activities, but then again, we’re hardly a typical family.

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