Page 146 of Riordan's Revenge

She gestured at a man in the crowd who slid off a beanie.

Lonnie, my mind supplied. Fuck. He was skeleton crew.

Lonnie went to the door. “Need to go into the cupboard outside. No funny business.”

The guard waited on Red’s word.

The gang boss’s eyes gleamed in interest, and he inclined his head. “The upstairs door is still bolted. You’ve got thirty seconds to impress me, or my pile of bodies is going to get bigger.”

The guard dragged the dead man out of the way, and Lonnie disappeared from sight, emerging moments later with a hooded body in his arms.

A scent pricked my nose. Smoke? What the hell was burning? If anyone else noticed, they didn’t show it.

Lonnie placed the body at Moniqua’s feet.

Moniqua untied the cloth covering its head then tugged it free. At my slumped angle, I couldn’t see the reveal.

Gasps came from around the circle.

Moniqua grinned with a savagery to rival Red’s. “I bring you Arran Daniels’ little sister, Cassie.”

Horror struck me. I knew her. We’d met several times. She wasn’t really Arran’s sister, but he cared about her just the same.

The woman gripping an unconscious Cassie by the hair continued, “I gift her to you on the condition you hear me out. If you like what I tell you, then give me the role of second-in-command of the Four Milers. I’m smarter and more deadly than any of these pieces of shit. I won’t let you down when that job is mine.”

Red stood, his fingers braced on his desk and his focus solely on the unconscious woman. He opened his mouth.

An explosion rang out. A wall collapsed inwards, a deadly slide of breezeblocks crumpling onto Red. The ceiling fell in a clatter of plaster, and the lights went out, plunging us all into darkness.

Chapter 45

Riordan

Panic laced my fevered ride across the city. I paid no attention to traffic lights or speed limits, focused only on reaching the brothel and rescuing Cassie. She no longer loved me, but I’d give up my life for her if I had to.

Music played in my helmet’s speakers, automatically connecting to my phone.

‘Death of Peace of Mind’ by Bad Omens had never been more appropriate.

Busting through a junction, I roared past a furniture showroom, red flames licking the exterior with three fire engines fighting the blaze with hoses. A Four Milers’ money laundering front. Cassie had once filled me in on the way dirty money flowed in the city. Legitimate businesses fronted for the various gangs, passing huge sums of cash through the system to line the pockets of those at the top of the pile. Or to grease the palms of those with power.

A mile on, and another fire blazed, this time in a line of garages. An acrid scent filled the air, suggesting it was a drugs store. Arran really had set about destroying Red’s gang.

I begged that Jamieson hadn’t yet reached the brothel in his reign of arson and terror.

Behind me, engines roared and horns blared, Arran and his crew trying to keep up with me. I was faster. My need to reach Cassie was greater.

Speeding down Paignton Place took me past Moniqua’s flat, all the lights on, and deep into the rival gang’s territory. I hit the back alleys, thundering down a narrow lane to emerge on the street with the brothel.

Horror struck me.

The old church building burned. Yellow and orange flames flickered and lit up the early evening. I hit the kerb and half fell off my bike, my stomach gutting out, and my focus locked on to the destruction.

Smoke billowed from the windows. The open front doors revealed devastation inside. I ran up the steps but threw up my arms as the heat beat me back.

It was an inferno.

There was no way anyone could survive it.

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