Chapter 3 - THE DEVIL'S BARGAIN
“A deal,” I repeated skeptically. “Men like you don't make deals with people like me. You take what you want.”
“Usually, yes,” Renick agreed smoothly. He reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out a heavy, cream-colored envelope, placing it squarely on top of the chess box. “Inside is a deed to a three-bedroom brownstone in Beacon Hill, fully paid in cash, along with a secure trust fund for Micah’s education through any university in the country.”
My breath hitched. I stared at the envelope as if it were radioactive. “Why? What’s the catch?”
“The catch is simple,” Renick said, his gray eyes turning cold and sharp as steel. “Tomorrow morning, a rival syndicate out of Providence—led by a man named Viktor Vance—is making a move on my shipping ports along the harbor. My intelligence tells me they know about Brinley. They know she’s my weak spot.”
A cold shiver washed over me. “You think the balcony incident wasn't an accident?”
“Accidents don't involve custom-picklocked safety latches on second-floor ironwork,” Renick said grimly. “Someone tampered with the railing. They wanted my daughter to fall. They wanted to break me.”
He stepped forward, placing both hands flat on the table, leaning in close.
“I need my security team focused on the docks tomorrow night. I need eyes inside the estate that Viktor’s men won't suspect. I need a cleaner who can move through the mansion unnoticed, protect my daughter, and keep my son safe.”
“You want me to babysit while you start a mob war?” I whispered, horrified.
“I want you to survive,” Renick corrected fiercely. “And I want Micah protected. Viktor Vance doesn't leave loose ends. If he takes my empire, he won't just kill me—he’ll sweep the entire estate. That includes the basement.”
Before I could answer, a sudden, sharp sound echoed from the dark hallway outside our heavy door.
Clink.
It was the distinct sound of metal brushing against metal—a lockpick sliding into the tumbler of our exterior door.
Renick’s reaction was instantaneous. In a fraction of a second, the brooding billionaire vanished, replaced entirely by a lethal apex predator. He grabbed my wrist, yanked me down behind the heavy wooden kitchen island, and drew a suppressed 9mm pistol from his waistband with terrifying fluidity.
Across the room, Micah stirred in his cot, murmuring something in his sleep.
May you like
Renick pressed a gloved finger to his lips, signaling absolute silence. His eyes burned with a dangerous, dark light.
The heavy basement door slowly swung inward, creaking on its rusted hinges.
