Page 177 of Fractured Future
It’s no secret that Blaine Madden was resolutely against the skin trade. Years of research and investigating told us that much. He refused to dirty his hands with trafficking of any kind.
But his father?
A whole other beast altogether.
“Your new teammates at Sabre Security hauled me in to be prosecuted.” Madden cuts me a sour look. “And I was punished for my father’s crimes.”
“You’ve killed countless people,” I vocalise.
“Under orders. Yes, I have. But our family business operated within certain limits. Boundaries I refused to cross. I wasn’t aware that my father was crossing them without my knowledge.”
Elbows bracing on the table, Ember leans in. “Explain.”
Darkness seeps over Madden’s scar-twisted features, casting a shadow that steals the light seeing Ember had previously illuminated his face with.
“I discovered that he had money tied up in the human trafficking trade running through England and beyond. My father was loaning out our men to perform kidnapping runs and being paid handsomely.”
“Honeypots,” Ember murmurs.
“Excuse me?”
“Those men you were cosying up to in the warehouse. They’re Gael’s honeypots. The stuffed shirts he sends out to target innocent women and lure them into his trap.”
“That’s what you thought I was doing?” Madden grimaces in distaste. “I am not some foot soldier.”
“Could’ve fooled us,” I grumble.
The murderous look he shoots me is full of lethal threat. “I wouldn’t stoop that low.”
Smiling back at him, I let the limitless, cold hatred I hold for this waste of space shine through. “Wouldn’t you?”
“No! After I was arrested by you fools, my father vanished into thin air. He fled his crumbling empire and was never seen again. But he’s still out there.”
“No one has heard or seen from Nolan Madden in years.”
“Yes.” Madden nods at my statement. “Because he’s protected by powerful, loyal friends. The kind of friends that years of successful business transactions earn you.”
“You’re saying he’s working with Gael,” Ember interprets, the colour draining from her face. “Shit.”
The dire look Madden wears chills my skin.
“I suspect that my father has spent the last few years hiding out in some luxurious bolthole, bought and paid for by the man who held you captive.”
His words rebound off the walls, landing with cataclysmic magnitude. We spent a long time searching for the head of the Madden family, unsatisfied with charging his son alone.
No matter how long we investigated, tearing apart decades of shady dealings dipped in a bloodstained trail of money, there was nothing. Not a single sighting. It’s like Nolan Madden never existed.
We had to make our peace with dismantling the family legacy to the best of our ability—prosecuting hundreds of lower-ranking mobsters, taking down countless drug production sites and obliterating illegal markets.
“Were you in Mexico searching for your father?” Ember asks him.
“Partly.” Madden’s sparkling black orbs latch onto her. “Partly for you.”
“Wait, why me?”
“Don’t hurt me, sweetheart, but I needed a bargaining chip. I wanted to buy peace with these knuckleheads through your safe return because I need their help.”
Pushing off from the wall, I move closer to brace my hands on the table. Madden doesn’t show an ounce of discomfort at the way I loom over him in obvious threat.
