destination.
Arms screaming, he yanked them the last few yards. First the muscle, then the flunky, went facedown in the slush-filled hole.
If they woke up, they could crawl back to their tenements. If not? Well, that was the law of the jungle. Survival of the fittest.
He got two steps before a searing pain sent him down to one knee. Nox looked back to find the muscle had woken up—and pushed a small blade into the back of Nox’s calf.
Nox kicked back with his good leg without hesitation. He caught the asshole in the face, just over the side of the hole where he’d crawled out. The crunch and whimper of pain gave him time to reach for the Sig and aim over the side.
He pulled the trigger once, the silencer muffling his deed in the quiet, cold night.
The blade was too deep for him to pull out, so he limped back home, only rage powering his movements. The dead man in the street meant nothing to him, meant nothing to the drug dealer who employed him. There were men to take his place, women to step up and do his job without anyone lamenting his passing. Nox knew the score—everything he did just slowed the tide, handicapped the inevitable.
But for the violence to be so close to home? He couldn’t have that.
Jenny’s face flashed in his mind, and he willed himself to move faster.
That pretty boy with the lush mouth was going to tell him everything: who sent the letter to Sam, about Jenny’s doppelganger, and why he was drawing attention to Nox’s front door. And he was going to do all that or end up in the middle of the street like the dead asshole who’d stuck a knife in his leg.
Chapter Twelve
W HEN C ADE finally found his bearings, he was lying on a bed in a quaint white-and-purple room that looked like something his twin female cousins would go out of their minds for. He tried to remember why his head and hands and stomach and everything hurt so fucking much. It took a second, but the full details came back in a rush.
“Dammit,” he said out loud, shifting his weight to try to roll over. The resulting pain was a mixture of nausea and breath-stealing pressure on his side.
He remembered the guy in the black hood pulling him up and the blue eyes and considered whether Mr. Mullens might be triplets or clones. He remembered being told to stay awake, which seemed a terrible idea. Everything hurt, especially his head.
A nap would be wonderful.
Or it could kill you , another voice said. This one sounded sardonic and irritated and most like his brother, Lee.
This time I won’t go the opposite way just to spite you , Cade thought as he pinched his palm in an attempt to stay conscious.
The door opened and one of the Mr. Mullens—the one in the black hoodie—stepped in, hood down and a full scowl on his dirty and bruised face.
He slammed the door behind him. The sound went through Cade’s skull like a knife through hot butter—and that image called to mind made his stomach roil.
“Who are you working for?” the man asked, cold and fierce. He moved—no, limped—to stand over Cade, who rolled onto his back in a move of supplication.
“I just wanted to know….” Cade shook his head, trying to clear his mind. “I don’t like not knowing…,” he tried again, but Mr. Mullens’s face kept contorting into something angrier and angrier.
“Why are you here?” he snapped.
Cade closed his eyes tightly, bringing his hands up to cover his ears. “Shut up,” he moaned, fighting another wave of nausea.
“I’m going to dump your ass in the middle of the street in five seconds if you don’t tell me who you’re working for.”
Thu-thump, thu-thump went Cade’s temples. He pressed his hands harder against his ears as if to keep his brains from spilling out.
“Mr. White is a good customer,” he whispered. “It was just a favor.”
Then everything faded to black.
Chapter Thirteen
N OX LIMPED back into the hallway only to find Sam standing there, arms tight across his chest.
“Your
Arms screaming, he yanked them the last few yards. First the muscle, then the flunky, went facedown in the slush-filled hole.
If they woke up, they could crawl back to their tenements. If not? Well, that was the law of the jungle. Survival of the fittest.
He got two steps before a searing pain sent him down to one knee. Nox looked back to find the muscle had woken up—and pushed a small blade into the back of Nox’s calf.
Nox kicked back with his good leg without hesitation. He caught the asshole in the face, just over the side of the hole where he’d crawled out. The crunch and whimper of pain gave him time to reach for the Sig and aim over the side.
He pulled the trigger once, the silencer muffling his deed in the quiet, cold night.
The blade was too deep for him to pull out, so he limped back home, only rage powering his movements. The dead man in the street meant nothing to him, meant nothing to the drug dealer who employed him. There were men to take his place, women to step up and do his job without anyone lamenting his passing. Nox knew the score—everything he did just slowed the tide, handicapped the inevitable.
But for the violence to be so close to home? He couldn’t have that.
Jenny’s face flashed in his mind, and he willed himself to move faster.
That pretty boy with the lush mouth was going to tell him everything: who sent the letter to Sam, about Jenny’s doppelganger, and why he was drawing attention to Nox’s front door. And he was going to do all that or end up in the middle of the street like the dead asshole who’d stuck a knife in his leg.
Chapter Twelve
W HEN C ADE finally found his bearings, he was lying on a bed in a quaint white-and-purple room that looked like something his twin female cousins would go out of their minds for. He tried to remember why his head and hands and stomach and everything hurt so fucking much. It took a second, but the full details came back in a rush.
“Dammit,” he said out loud, shifting his weight to try to roll over. The resulting pain was a mixture of nausea and breath-stealing pressure on his side.
He remembered the guy in the black hood pulling him up and the blue eyes and considered whether Mr. Mullens might be triplets or clones. He remembered being told to stay awake, which seemed a terrible idea. Everything hurt, especially his head.
A nap would be wonderful.
Or it could kill you , another voice said. This one sounded sardonic and irritated and most like his brother, Lee.
This time I won’t go the opposite way just to spite you , Cade thought as he pinched his palm in an attempt to stay conscious.
The door opened and one of the Mr. Mullens—the one in the black hoodie—stepped in, hood down and a full scowl on his dirty and bruised face.
He slammed the door behind him. The sound went through Cade’s skull like a knife through hot butter—and that image called to mind made his stomach roil.
“Who are you working for?” the man asked, cold and fierce. He moved—no, limped—to stand over Cade, who rolled onto his back in a move of supplication.
“I just wanted to know….” Cade shook his head, trying to clear his mind. “I don’t like not knowing…,” he tried again, but Mr. Mullens’s face kept contorting into something angrier and angrier.
“Why are you here?” he snapped.
Cade closed his eyes tightly, bringing his hands up to cover his ears. “Shut up,” he moaned, fighting another wave of nausea.
“I’m going to dump your ass in the middle of the street in five seconds if you don’t tell me who you’re working for.”
Thu-thump, thu-thump went Cade’s temples. He pressed his hands harder against his ears as if to keep his brains from spilling out.
“Mr. White is a good customer,” he whispered. “It was just a favor.”
Then everything faded to black.
Chapter Thirteen
N OX LIMPED back into the hallway only to find Sam standing there, arms tight across his chest.
“Your
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