Page 17 of Corrupted Union

I didn’t even breathe as the passenger exited the car. He never turned in my direction, preventing me from seeing his face. The two men went up the front steps to the Wellington family home and were welcomed inside.

Jesus fucking Christ. Tell me I’m wrong.

I pulled up the recording on my phone and zoomed in on the guns. Blood pulsed like bass drums inside my head as I verified my suspicion. The two guns were both authentic, possessing the select fire switch only found on military-grade Swiss-made SIGs. They weren’t easy to find. We were the only black-market dealers I knew of locally who had access, and even then, it didn’t happen often. We’d only had one shipment in the past six months, and Oran had reported them stolen within days of their arrival.

What kind of monumental coincidence would it take for those two weapons to have been sourced outside of that stolen shipment?

I studied the car and saw no indications of diplomatic immunity that would suggest a connection to the Swiss Embassy. The presence of men dealing in illegal guns supported Rowan’s theory that Wellington was into more than shipping. This shit just kept getting worse.

A wary unease scratched at my skin with jagged claws.

I needed a drink.

Thirty minutes later, I was at the Moxy sipping the Redbreast whiskey I kept on hand for days like this. I stayed in the club for the distraction, though I hardly noticed the people around me. It was late enough that the place was packed. I sat at the end of the bar, my back to the room in an attempt to dissuade conversation, which worked until Torin showed up. My cousin wasn’t intimidated by anything, least of all me.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on?” he asked under his breath while signaling the bartender. He wasn’t purposely being discreet. That was just Tor. He seemed to save all his energy for the boxing ring where he went nuclear on his opponents.

“Is something going on?” I swirled the amber liquid in my glass.

Tor shot me a look that said don’t be a dumbass. “You forget that I saw you here with that girl last week? Don’t even pretend nothing is going on there. You’ve been on edge ever since.”

“She’s Evan Alexander’s daughter,” I said with a sigh.

“No shit.” He huffed. “Girl can dance.”

I had to grind my teeth against the surge of rage that overtook me. “Watch it.” A promise of brutality roughened my voice.

“Oh yeah?” he asked with a genuine note of surprise. “Didn’t expect that from you.”

I shook my head. “There is nothat. I’ve just got a lot of shit going on.”

He did a slow nod that told me he didn’t buy it for a second. Whatever. He could think what he liked.

“Need a hand with anything?” he asked.

“Not at the moment.” I downed the rest of my drink in one swallow, relishing the burn that filled my chest. “I’ll let you know if things change.” I stood, bumping my fist into his before leaving. I had work to do, and it was getting late.

* * *

I walkedthrough the NYU campus the following morning with purposeful strides. It seemed empty for a college campus, not that I was one to know. School was never my scene. Fortunately, my family wasn’t the sort to carry academic expectations. I’d graduated from high school and never looked back.

Eventually, I found my way to 19 West 4thStreet, room 302. A glance through the small window on the door confirmed that class was in session, and the professor was in the middle of lecturing. I opened the door and stepped inside, scanning the room until my eyes landed on Rowan dutifully watching her professor.

The old man in a tweed golf cap sputtered to a stop, his stare drawing the eyes of the rest of the students. “Can I help you?” he clipped snidely.

I’d like to see him show that kind of brass when he wasn’t on his throne, bolstered by the illusion of safety in the center of his little kingdom. The thought almost brought a smile to my lips.

I cut my eyes back to Rowan and gave a swift jerk of my chin toward the door. I didn’t wait to see her reaction, though I caught the bright pink of her cheeks before I slipped back into the hall.

Her eyes blazed when she slipped from the classroom. “I assume since you found me here that you illegally obtained my class schedule,” she hissed at me. “I guess it was too much to ask that you wait until after the lecture to arrive.”

What was it about that sharp edge of hers that drove me so damn insane? It was like my emotions were hardwired to respond to her, no matter how tightly I held the reins. Anyone else could spit in my fucking face without eliciting a reaction—not an emotional one, anyway. I might fracture their jaw as a lesson, but it wouldn’t be personal. Not on my end. But Rowan was different. All she had to do was breathe, and I lost all capacity to reason.

I clamped down on my need to silence her with my tongue down her throat and led us away from the door. “You asked me for help, Alexander. Take it how you can get it, or don’t take it at all.”

Keir gotseveral feet away before I worked through my shock. He’d thoroughly convinced me days before that I had no chance of enlisting his help. What had changed his mind?

Do you seriously care?

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