Page 27 of Lyon

“We need to get to the side alley,” he said, as we ran outside.

“You go,” I whispered. “I’ll hold them off.”

Jackson glared at me. “Not happening. We stick together.”

Before I could argue, another shot rang out.

Jackson staggered, his body slamming into the wall. Blood bloomed across his shoulder.

And then—a slow clap.

I turned.

Luke stood there, a pistol in his hand, his expression smug.

“It’s your choice,” he said smoothly. “I finish him now, or you come with me.”

12

Lyon

After three uneventfuldays at home—Cyclone still slept—I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that something was wrong. I tried calling Niki, but there was no answer. With worry mounting, I decided to call Joseph Brazil to see if she’d gone on a job.

“Hello, this is Joseph Brazil.”

“This is Lyon Spenser. I’ve been trying to reach Niki, but I’m not even getting a voicemail. Is she on a job?”

“Lyon Spenser, are you with The Golden Team?”

“Yes.”

“Can you come into the office?”

A chill ran down my spine; I didn’t need further confirmation that trouble was brewing. “Where is your office?” I asked. He gave me the address, and I left immediately.

Pulling onto my driveway, Raven called out, “Where are you headed?”

“I’m going to the FBI headquarters,” I replied.

“Then I’ll drive,” he said. I climbed into his vehicle, and we arrived within an hour.

Inside the office, I found Joseph talking with another man. He waved us over.

“Jackson, this is Lyon Spenser from The Golden Team.”

“And this is Raven, who’s also on my team. So, where is Niki?”

Jackson’s expression was grim as he explained, “The head of the Los Angeles cartel has her. They were after her—and someone in this office turned informant. They knew exactly where she was and attacked us. They even shot Jackson a couple of times, threatening to blow his brains out if she didn’t come with them.”

“She didn’t want to go. If those guns hadn’t been pointed at her, she might have fought back. That was two days ago,” Jackson added.

“Fuck! Have you heard anything from her at all?” I demanded.

“Nothing,” he replied.

“We’ve got FBI agents all over the city now, hunting for her,” Jackson continued.

I pressed on, “Who was the informant?”

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