As he flicks through everything the private investigator has managed to dig up, I start to explain what I think is going on.
“At first I thought it was competition. Someone who wanted in on the market.” It’s not uncommon to get these punk-ass newbies who think they have what it takes to move organs across both state and international lines without getting caught. Every now and then someone wants to give it a go, and Kai and I watch until they fuck themselves over.
But this one’s different.
This one is definitely personal.
“I know every single one of the people he’s killed,” I reveal to Kai. Before he has the chance to open his mouth, I hurriedly answer, wanting to get this part out of the way. “They’re all men I’ve been with.”
Because I can’t have you.
Because I can’t love you.
“He keeps leaving clues all over the bodies. The carvings are perfect, practiced with a level of expertise that just doesn’t show up anywhere,” I explain. “And whoever it is has managed to replicate our insignia on their skin, so everyone thinks it’s us not cleaning up after ourselves. And I’ve kept my ears to the ground. Nobody is trading any of those organs. Not even the hearts.”
Everybody knows hearts make the most money, further solidifying whoever this is, is doing this for all the wrong reasons.
“Have we lost any work?” Kai queries.
The slight delay in my answer is all he needs to know it’s not looking good.
“I guess that explains the outburst before I got here.” He runs his hand across his jaw pensively. It’s a strange role reversal, to see him so calm and collected. We both know our place in the operation, both of us bringing our own version of the brawn and the brain.
“So, what’s your plan?”
“I’m gonna kill him,” I deadpan.
He raises an eyebrow. “Just like that?”
“Are you insinuating that I can’t?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth, G. I just don’t think you should do this without thinking it through.” He leans forward, placing his elbows on the desk. “It sounds like this guy has a hardon for you, and if we’re not prepared, he might kill you first.”
“That’s the exact reason I don’t want you there tonight.”
He rears his head back in shock. “Excuse me? That’s not even an option.”
“What if he doesn’t want me, and his plan is to really fuck me over through you?” Swallowing hard, I do my best to ignore the thick wedge of emotion that gets stuck in my throat at the thought of something happening to Kai. “Let’s not forget the few million he’s cost us,” I add, trying to reiterate the business angle. “For whatever reason, he’s killing people I know and trying to ruin my reputation. That wouldn’t fly in anyone’s world, and I sure as fuck ain’t going to let it fly in mine.”
Relenting, Kai looks through the folder again. “So, while I’m on board with your plan, it doesn’t look like you actually know who this guy is. You’re hunting a damn ghost, and you want to do it without me?”
Reaching for a photo out of my drawer, I slam it in the middle of the table. Kai shakes his head vehemently when his eyes land on the familiar face. “You can’t be serious,” he scoffs. “You think our dad is behind this?”
3
Grayson
I slide my cell into the breast pocket of my tuxedo while waiting for the valet to open up the limousine door. After Kai left my place late this afternoon, we decided we’d show up separately. He would bring our father, and I would wait for them, patiently.
It’s not ideal to leave Kai alone with the man, our history with him nothing but years of blood and bruises, but from the text he just sent me, everything seems to be going to plan.
With a long line of cars circled around the aristocratic fountain, there’s no mistaking that I have arrived at the Constantine Estate. Just a few hours from the city, and it feels like I’ve stepped into an alternate universe.
The streets here may as well be paved with money and gold, because nothing about this place is subtle or understated. In fact, nothing about the Constantines and their lifestyle really is, including the way they choose to introduce their youngest daughter to the elite of New York.
I remember the first time my father showed me this world, and there was definitely no fucking party. Not only was it like being seated in a fancy restaurant and not knowing which cutlery to use for which meal, it was also the day my whole life changed.
And not for the better.
The day I found out the man I called my father was nothing but a piece of shit dressed in designer clothes, who cared more about the money that lined his own pockets than he did his own family.
The limousine eventually stops, and the dressed-up valet opens the door. As I step into the cool air and take in all the people milling around in their elaborate, expensive costumes, I think maybe I’m not that different to him after all.
To get rid of him, his people became my people, and I’ve been stuck in an underground battle of conditional love and misguided loyalty ever since. I was no longer Grayson Hughes. I became ‘The Giant’, who literally muscled his way to the top. Everyone was scared of me, because I was the size of a brick house. Little did they know with an IQ of 160, I was a jacked-up genius, thirsty for revenge.
Motivated by the hate for my father, I immersed myself in a world that I was tied to forever, but on the condition that he was no longer in it. It was worth it.
I won.
Until now.
Wearing an outfit that cost more than most people make in a year, I’d be lying if there wasn’t a small part of me that doesn’t enjoy tonight’s theme. It’s over the top and ostentatious, but it’s nights like these where I get to enjoy the money I’ve made, mingle with people who I know are as shady and fucked up as I am.
Tonight is the perfect opportunity for the Constantines to seduce the degenerate and depraved people on their payroll, and who am I to turn my nose up to good food, top-shelf alcohol, and the perfect backdrop for a showdown with dear old dad?
Buttoning up my jacket, I run my hands down the fitted material, enjoying the way the embroidered satin feels against my skin. Black as night, with a gold filigree-like pattern that starts at my shoulders and works its way down my sleeves, the blazer matches the design of my Venetian mask. Molded to my exact measurements, the mask covers seventy-five percent of my face, with my right eye and cheek exposed, the rest covered by an intricately woven piece of metal.
Just as I’m about to head inside, I feel a soft tap on my shoulder. Turning, I find Ashley, a good friend of mine, wearing a gold, floor-length, strapless gown that accentuates every womanly curve she has. Paired with a diamond encrusted headpiece, she’s an absolute vision.
“Ashley,” I greet, leaning down and kissing her on the cheek. “Looking like a dream, as always.”
“Grayson.” She smiles. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Likewise.” I hold out my arm for her, and she loops her own through.
“No date tonight?” I ask.
“It’s all work and no play for me, unfortunately,” she explains as we head to the main entrance. Ashley Lema owns the biggest escort service in New York City, and she’s also one of the few people who knows more than the surface level stuff about me.