Page 1 of Murder & Mayhem

Prologue

I glance left and right down the empty hallway before slotting my tools into the lock. It’s a cheap, shitty one, and I easily manipulate the mechanism, hearing the satisfying click of the door unlocking. I don’t waste any time pushing it open and stepping into the apartment. Quickly shutting the door behind me, I stand in the hall and slowly run my eyes around the room, taking all of it in. It’s small and sparsely furnished, with hideous carpeting and walls that are in dire need of a lick of paint, but I don’t pay much attention to any of that. It means nothing other than telling me that the owner likely doesn’t have much money.

I do a quick sweep of the kitchen, noting nothing of significance, before I move onto the living room. Again, there’s nothing personal here. Nothing that tells me anything about the woman who lives here. Moving to the first door off the living room, I push it open and enter a bedroom. My eyebrows lift in surprise as I look around.Huh, not what I expected.

Picking my way through the scattered clothes, I pull open the drawers in the dresser and rummage through them. Working my way around the room, I do the same in the bedside table, not finding anything identifiable. The clothes definitely belong to a guy, though. Maybe she has a kid? That wouldn’t be surprising.

When I’m finished searching the bedroom, I do a quick sweep of the bathroom before moving on to the next room. I take my time in this bedroom, going through her things—her closet, dresser, and bedside table. I even look under her pillows and mattress. Again, I find nothing that tells me anything abouther.It’s like she hardly lives here.

Frustrated that my efforts have been in vain, I exit the room. As I’m passing through the living room, I notice a photo stuck to the wall. It’s probably just her and her kid, but I move closer, nonetheless. It’s the only personal item in the whole damn apartment, so it’s definitely worth a closer look.

Moving to stand in front of it, my eyes brush over the girl first, noting that it is a younger version of the woman I’m investigating. There’s something familiar about her features, but I can’t put my finger on it. Flicking my gaze to the boy beside her, anger immediately pulses through me, realization dawning. I rip the photo from the wall, still staring at the older version of the boy I remember.

My hand shakes as I struggle not to ruin the photo, but the edges crinkle beneath my punishing grip anyway. Nostrils flaring, I focus back on the older girl. Now that I know who she is, it’s obvious. Although more vibrant and healthier looking, her hair is similar to her mother’s, and so are those eyes. She’s the one who has had him this entire time. Well, not for much longer. I’d long since given up hope of finding him, but God rewards patience, and he has seen fit to bless me for mine.

Chapter 1

The city passes in a blur as I fly across town toward Radiant Park. The anger pouring through my veins prevents me from feeling the cold blast of the wind as it whips my hair out behind me, even as I press my foot down harder on the accelerator, making the bike roar as it surges forward.

How dare he.

How fucking dare he.

God, I’m going to wring his tattooed fucking neck when I get my hands on him. Who the hell does he think he is, ordering people to come intomyapartment,withoutmy permission when I’m not even fucking home. It’s one thing to have one of the kids around. Over the last couple of weeks, Luc has been hanging out with them quite a bit. At first, I really wasn’t happy about the amount of time he was spending with them. Honestly, I’m still on the fence about the whole situation, but he’s seemed happier these last few weeks, and that almost makes up for the fact that he’s spending his free time with gangbangers—the exact people I’ve been telling him to avoid his whole life.

What I definitely don’t condone, though, is getting home at the ass crack of dawn after tailing my new target—soon to be my next victim—around seedy bars and back alleys all night, to find three men I don’t even recognize packing up all my shit. They nearly gave me a goddamn heart attack when I heard them moving around inside my apartment, and they’re lucky they’re still fucking breathing.

I screech to a halt outside the Reject clubhouse and practically fling myself from the bike, stomping through the gate and onto their property. I only hesitate for a second, waiting to see if my unannounced presence will set off an alarm and result in guns being shoved in my faceagain. When all remains still and silent, I march on, ignoring the curious looks I get as I throw open the door into the lobby and swiftly bypass the few Reject members I can see.

I seethe the entire way to Cain’s office, flinging open the door with such force that it bounces off the wall with a loud smack that reverberates around the room. Cain’s intense gaze snaps up at the sudden interruption, and his eyes narrow in annoyance, his dark green irises smoldering.

He barely spares me more than an irritated glance before he refocuses on the laptop in front of him. “What crawled up your ass?” His voice is too casual, too dismissive, and it only serves to piss me off even more.

“You did,” I snap, glowering at him.

A cocky smirk lifts one side of his lip like that answer pleases him. Does he get off on pissing me off? God, probably.

He lazily raises his eyes to meet my gaze as he shifts in his chair, his tattooed, muscular biceps straining against the sleeves of his t-shirt as he crosses his arms over his broad chest. “Red, if I was in your ass, then trust me, you’d be moaning my name like it was the answer to all your prayers, not scowling at me like you’ve never had a half-decent orgasm before.”

My mouth drops open, gaping at him for a long moment as images flash unbidden across the back of my mind, and my body heats with undisguised lust.God-fucking-dammit, no! We’re angry at the insufferable asshole. Remember that.

My gaze narrows further, and I clench my teeth as I mentally shove all those unwanted feelings back into whatever stupid box they climbed out of. As if agreeing to go to war with the Antonellis and the Grim Bastards isn’t enough, my body and mind are also in a fight of their own. One where my body wants to climb both Cain and Oliver like they’re its own personal jungle gym, and my brain has to keep reminding it that business and pleasure don’t mix well together.

It’s been fucking exhausting. You’d at least think Cain’s intolerable personality would be a turn-off, but apparently, I’m into domineering assholes that deliberately push your buttons and drive you fucking demented. The ire he throws my way awakens some deep, dark, repressed part of myself that mentally begs for him to unleash all that anger on me; to take it out on my body.

As much as Cain’s fury makes my panties combust, so do Oliver’s heated glances and light touches. He’s the complete opposite of Cain—softer, more open, fucking reasonable—but that tenderness speaks to my inner damage and lures me in just as much as Cain’s fire.

I made it clear to Oliver that there could be nothing more between us so long as we were working together. Not only do I not need the distraction, but I’m also confused as hell when it comes to him. There’s no denying my attraction to him, but my one rule has always been to avoid gang members. Anything more than a one-night stand was a no-no, yet here I am, full-on crushing on one. Things are changing rapidly. In the span of two weeks, I’ve allowed the Rejects to see into mine and Luc’s life more than anyone else ever has. I am extending a branch of trust to them on a professional level, but I’m also entrusting them with Luc’s safety. All of it makes me uneasy, and I’m just not ready to cross any more boundaries. Especially not ones that involve Oliver; boundaries that, once crossed, there will be no coming back from.

Of course, that hasn’t stopped him from driving me halfway insane with his lingering touches. I swear he goddamn knows how much it’s affecting me.

“I’m not fucking moving in here,” I state in a low growl.

He sighs in such a way that makes it seem like I’m being deliberately difficult, whenhe’sthe one making decisionsfor me.

“We talked about this,” he states, sounding far too calm and rational.

I suck in a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. “Yes, and I said no.”

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