Page 1 of The Daredevil

PROLOGUE

ROYCE

My heart poundedas I walked toward that damn church. I didn’t want to come back here, but I had no choice. I almost shit my pants yesterday when I witnessed the murder with my friends. It had taken all my courage to return to this place today.

Dumb idea. Yeah, I know.What the hell was I thinking?

My pulse pounded in my ears as I glanced around, making sure those guys dressed in dark suits and the man with the slash across his face weren’t around. His words from yesterday rang loud and clear in my ears. My friends and I had never been this frightened before.

Tell no one, nothing. If you do, they will find you, and they will kill you and your families. Understand?

The thumping in my chest drowned out his words so I could focus on my sole task for today.

Saturday afternoon, downtown Providence wasn’t packed because the nearby office buildings were closed. Sweat trickled down my back, and it wasn’t from the June weather or the bright sun. Terror was a beast wreaking havoc in my body, and I tried my best not to succumb to it. I imagined myself as a warrior in my video game, trying to defeat the beast.

I can do this. Go in, find my phone, and be out in a few minutes.

Fighting the tremble, I approached the abandoned property, wearing a T-shirt, old jeans, a baseball cap, and a backpack. I glanced at the city map and pretended to be a tourist in case someone spotted me. With several colleges around this area, they probably thought I was a college kid with my height and lanky appearance, which would hopefully help me blend in.

With each step closer to the church, my fingers quivered, shaking the map. Nerves and a wave of nausea stirred in me. I stepped onto the concrete stairs, the sound of my breathing loud in my ears. Returning to this dangerous place either made me really stupid or really brave. I hadn’t slept all night because I feared someone would find my cell phone, which I’d dropped during the chaos. Maybe it had been broken. Maybe some homeless guy had taken it. Or maybe one of those dangerous men found the phone and hacked into it, getting my private info and pictures of my home and friends . . .

Shit.

My stomach twisted at the thought, and I forced myself to stop thinking about horrible scenarios. I needed to grab my phone and get the hell out of here and never think about this place again.

If Aunt Klara knew about any of this, she’d be devastated. She’d worked hard to take care of me. My mom died when I was eight years old, and Aunt Klara took me in and cared for me like I was her son. I’d been living with her ever since and feared that one day she might not want me anymore.

Stop the moping already.

Fear numbed me as I made my way to the side of the church, looking on the ground for my cell phone.

“Where are you?” I whispered as though it could hear me. If I couldn’t find it, I’d have to pay for a new phone, which wasn’t cheap.

The black case with a purple lightning bolt representing my favorite superhero, Thor—the God of Thunder—shouldn’t be hard to find. I looked under the bushes and in the scrubby grass and found nothing.

Shit. Where was it?

I just wanted to find it and leave. I walked up to the wall where I’d jumped from the balcony the day before. Was it still up there? No, it couldn’t be. I’d had it in my hand because I’d been monitoring my drone, making sure it landed safely, which it did.

I was about to wander to the other side of the church when I noticed a small box on its side, overflowing with junk. I kicked the empty cans, bottles, and scattered papers aside, and my phone gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. Relief burst through me as I picked it up, wiped the nasty goo from the screen, and examined it for any damage. No damage, but also no battery left either. I tucked it into my pocket and would have cheered, but I was afraid that would attract unwanted attention.

As I made my way toward the stairs that led back to the street, a strange feeling settled in me.

“I don’t see anything that belongs to him. No need to worry.” A man’s voice sounded somewhere close, inside the church perhaps.

What if he were here to kill another person?

I knew I should run but froze at the sound of his voice—his accent. Something about it nipped at me. Goosebumps rose all over my arms in such a way that I could almost feel each bump rising from my skin.

Footsteps broke my trance. I hurried down the stairs and raced toward the bus stop two blocks away. As I waited for the bus, I replayed the man’s voice in my head. I’d heard that Icelandic accent before. But where and when?

CHAPTERONE

MICHELLE

Nerves stirredin me as I glanced out the plane's window, admiring Iceland's breathtaking landscape. Coming back a second time brought an odd feeling I couldn’t describe. Excitement? Dread? Something in between?

It was a strange sensation I couldn’t pinpoint. It could be nerves stemming from the unknown since this was my first contract job for an innovative beauty product company in a foreign land. Or it was just me trying to find balance in my life.

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