Page 1 of The Best of Us

Chapter1

Constantine

New York, New York

I didn’t makeit a habit of grabbing low-level drug dealers off street corners, but for this asshole, I made an exception.

He was trying to outrun me inside an abandoned factory in Hell’s Kitchen. And while running was my least favorite of all heart rate–raising activities, I was willing to do it. For Daniel O’Brien? Yeah, I’d do it. Run all night if I had to.

The twenty-three-year-old Dublin native (and possibly a track star back home) had no current address. Well, outside that street corner. From what I’d learned through my research, he sold drugs to trust-fund kids who were willing to pay a premium.

He was also the lowlife who’d hit one of my interns on her way home from work while attempting to mug her.

While Blair had reluctantly admitted why she’d shown up to work with a black eye, tracking him down didn’t take long.

So here we were. Daniel and I, burning calories while navigating death traps inside a condemned building, all for his high-stakes game of hide-and-seek.

Reaching the third floor, I slowed my pace, listening carefully.

Every sound reverberated around me. The walls and floors moaned as if something evil was trying to protect the bastard.

I inhaled deeply, catching the scent of cheap cologne. He was close.

“Only one of us has night vision.” I never went hunting unprepared. NVGs in place. A ghost mask concealing my face. And, of course, strapped.

“Leave me the bloody hell alone. I don’t know what you want, but?—”

“I want a lot of things, Daniel. For men like you not to exist is one of them.” I followed my green-hued path around a corner, tracking his voice.

“How do you know my name? Who are you?” The rattle of fear in his voice guided me closer. “You a parent of that kid who almost OD’d last week? I swear I didn’t know about the fentanyl in the batch of E I sold him.”

Was he trying to dig himself an early grave?

Based on the sound of metal scraping the ground, he was scrambling for an object to turn into a weapon.

I knew he didn’t have a gun, or he’d have already fired off rounds. And I wasn’t there to kill him, only to teach him a lesson, so I didn’t draw my pistol.

“What do you want?” he hollered.

Given that he kept announcing his location, he clearly had zero tactical training. He didn’t even know the basics a kid would learn playingCall of Duty. It took me less than thirty seconds to make visual contact.

He came at me swinging a pipe. He may have lacked common sense, but he had balls to try and take me on.

I knocked him out within a minute. Now I’d have to drag his heavy ass down multiple flights of stairs if I wanted to have that talk.

After taking a moment to catch my breath, I transmitted over comms, “He’s detained. You feel like helping me carry two hundred pounds of dead weight down some stairs?”

My teammate, who also happened to be my best friend and brother-in-law, responded, “Weren’t you just complaining the other day that you need to get in more cardio?”

“Sex,” I grunted. “I was talking about sex.” The only kind of cardio I enjoyed. “Now get your ass up here and help me.”

Hudson laughed. “Roger that.”

Back at our security office in Chelsea, I let Hudson kick things off with Daniel so I could shower and change. I had a date later, and with any luck, it’d end with my preferred type of cardio.

Once dressed and in the basement, I stepped inside the observation area. While Hudson did his thing in the interrogation room, I went to the bar cart and poured a drink.

I picked up the bag of pills Hudson must’ve found on Daniel. The white tablets had a green four-leaf clover stamped on them. I’d heard rumors that a new dealer was flooding the streets with E as underground raves began making a comeback. But mixing MDMA with fentanyl? That made it even worse.

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