Page 1 of Stricken

PROLOGUE

The Pacific stretching before me is an endless azure canvas painted with the dying sun's crimson brushstrokes. There's a man in me, buried somewhere deep down, who understands that it's beautiful, a man who can appreciate the peace this view brings. But this man is a ghost. This man disappeared into the void a long time ago, when he was nineteen and when he heard his own father order the murder of his own mother.

The father is dead now. The only person to punish left is his henchman, who is currently on the run. But not for long. Not if Vlad Solovey has a say in it.

I turn from the panoramic window, my attention drawn back to the thin man seated across from me in this hotel lounge somewhere off the Southern California coast. It's safe to meet here, away from the prying eyes of the Vegas syndicates. It's safe and it's what Esteban Arellano requested.

Fly out to LA. Let's meet there.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Solovey. The trail's gone cold," he says, swirling his red wine in a crystal glass. His sharp features remain passive, but his usually calculating eyes are tinged with something akin to regret.

But not the regret most people would feel if they failed to deliver. I wonder if he has misgivings about allowing me to ask for this favor. My jaw clenches, a familiar tension tightening my gut. "A man like that doesn't just disappear," I comment carefully.

Shtyk has made quite a lot of mess trying to cross the Mexican border a few months ago, right after he kidnapped my brother. I had to act quickly while the trace was hot. I had to get help.

"You'd be surprised," Esteban says, leaning forward. "If yourhuevónis in bed with La Alianza, they can get him a whole new life."

"He doesn't get to live a new life. He still needs to answer for the sins he committed in this one." The anger in me has my fingers tapping impatiently over the wooden handrest of my chair.

"Don't worry, Mr. Solovey. The Arellanos keep their promises. As long you keep yours."

"I reassure you, Esteban, I am a man of my word." Even when I don't know what will be asked of me in the future. Mixing business with personal favors is bad, especially when the cartel is involved, but I can't keep this up. Can't remain calm at the mere thought of Shtyk still alive, still breathing. "He's out there, plotting," I speak into the space around me, fingers continuing to drum. "I can feel it in my bones."

"Paranoia doesn't suit you, my friend," Esteban remarks.

"It is not paranoia," I retort, the words tasting like a drop of vinegar on my tongue. "It is a fact. Shtyk is not the kind of man to back down. He will retreat and come back when you least expect it."

Esteban sighs as if tired of being here. "Look, we've got eyes and ears everywhere. If this Shtyk so much as sneezes, we will know."

I drain my glass and exchange a loaded look with Esteban. He is a man of slight build, around five-foot-nine, unexceptional but expensively dressed, with neatly combed hair as dark as charcoal and a trimmed beard. No one would guess he's a cousin of the notorious Marcon Arellano. "I appreciate that."

"And I appreciate your patience, Mr. Solovey." Esteban smiles just a little bit and it's the smile of a fox—sly and dangerous. It's almost telling me that I'm stepping further into the darkness, into the corners of the void you don't come back out. Once you're there, you stay inside. You become it.

Part of me dreads this—losing whatever's left of my humanity because of revenge. But another part of me craves violence. I am my father's son, after all. You can't escape blood.

But at the very least, I'll make it righteous—this vengeance of mine. This carnage I'm planning.

The bastard can't elude me forever. One way or another, I'll find Shtyk and I'll make him pay for what he did to Mama.

In this moment, Esteban's hulking bodyguard melts from the shadows, which means the meeting has come to its logical end.

"Mr. Solovey," Esteban croons my name as if he's trying to see how it would taste. He rises to his feet slowly. "Nice to see you."

I mirror his movements. There is a quick handshake and another exchange of stares.

"Likewise," I reply politely.

"Let's keep in touch."

"Of course."

"And remember, Mr. Solovey, obsession is a dangerous bedfellow."

I laugh, a hollow sound devoid of emotions. "Danger and I are old friends."

"Oh, I don't doubt it for a second."

Esteban moves toward the exit, weaving past the tables through the intimately lit space of the lounge. His bodyguard falls into step behind his boss. The cloying scent of cologne and power swirls in their wake as they disappear through the set of glass doors.

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