Page 2 of The Protégé

The idea of breaking the mold fascinated me. Liberated me. I chose to do something that intrigued me rather than follow the rules set by family—society’s fucking boring rules that suffocated me.

Satisfied with my work, I headed back toward the hotel. My phone rang, and the ringtone signified it was my family phone.

Shit.Had my dad discovered I’d been gone? I reached for the phone in my backpack.

Relief settled when I saw Molly’s number. I had told her I was going out for some fresh air.

“Hi, Molly.”

“Orion,” she breathed, followed by a pause.

Was I in trouble? Was she mad at me for sneaking out?

“I’m heading back now. Sorry I took a while.”

“Just wait for me in the lobby. I’ll take you to the hospital.”

“Why?”

“A car… hit your mom.” She finally burst into tears.

My chest felt as though it had caved in at her words, and I knew without her having to say it that my mom was dead.

CHAPTER ONE

ORION

With vengeance stirringin my blood, I followed the attractive hostess wearing a fitted black skirt and a cream blouse through the luxurious Wellness Center. She walked up to a set of wooden doors with a metal sign that read Exclusive Members Only and pressed her thumb and index finger to the screen. The screen illuminated, signifying a match, and the doors opened.

“Your first time here?” The brunette raked her gaze down my body and flicked me a seductive look. “I’m Daniella.”

“Yes,” I replied, not in the mood to feed whatever she had on her mind. If it had been a month ago, I’d have taken her up on the offer. She had an attractive face and body. Those were perfect distractions to keep me relaxed.

But not today. Not when I was in search of my mentor’s killer. My mentor, Pablo Toledo, also known as The Condor, had been found dead in a street of Providence. The person who killed him made it seem like a bad robbery gone wrong, but I saw through the lies.

The Condor wasn’t your average man. He was the best thief I’d ever met, my hero. He taught me how to be a man. TheCondor redefined thievery to me. He stole from those who had taken from him. I admired his ability to set the moral scale into balance.

Making the killer pay for the crime was my method of righting a wrong.

“Enjoy, Mr. Reimann.” Her voice interrupted my thoughts.

She gestured to the arched hallway that opened to a luxurious club entertaining the wealthy and powerful. “If you need anything, please let me know.” She took out her business card, flipped it over to the back, scribbled her phone number on it, and gave it to me.

“Thank you.” I tucked it into my pants pocket, intending to toss it out later.

I scanned the room surrounded by burgundy walls, gold sconces, crystal chandeliers, velvet lounge chairs, and elegant tables. The gentle music should have soothed me, but nothing could do that. I had to find the killer.

After a month of research, my team informed me a person of interest was in this city. His fingerprint had been found on a piece of paper inside my teacher’s pants pocket. I’d directed my team to run an international scan. They found a match when the club scanned in a new fingerprint as part of their membership signup requirement.

After today, my name and fingerprint would be deleted from their system without a trace.

I looked around the room, searching for a man who went by the name TR. The image I’d received showed a dark-haired man with hollow cheeks.

Men and women in designer clothing eyed me, gauging the size of my bank account, my status in the public arena, and how I could benefit them. This was how most elite clubs operated. Everyone in the club wanted something from somebody. Thoughthe clubs were always full of people and conversation, I often felt alone. Like I didn’t belong anywhere.

In this glamorous arena, it was difficult to know who was friend or foe. To be safe, I viewed everyone as a foe.

As I scoured the area, cold eyes continued to stare at me. I stared back, colder, harder. If I wanted to, I could purchase this damn club—this entire block—and completely demolish it. Then where would these judgmental people go to meet their multiple mistresses? How would they hire an assassin to destroy their enemies or buy drugs to numb their pain? So many illicit transactions occurred in these clubs, but I didn’t have time for that kind of shit.

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