Page 1 of Toy No More

Chapter 1

Kobe

Itightenthegripon my gloved hands clasped over my lap and take a slow inhale, shifting on my feet slightly.It’s normal to be nervous about starting a new job, right?I try to silence the pestering worries in my head as I stare at the wall in front of me. All I need to do is what I’ve been told. Wait. Be quiet. Make a good first impression.

Trying to remember the first time I stood before my old boss makes it feel like a lifetime ago. I suppose I was a lot younger and a lot stupider. I didn’t really understand the consequences of what I was getting myself into. Now I do. Now, I know there’s no going back to the way things were before. Ever.

All I can hope for is that this man will find me as useful as Mr. Wilson said he would.

The door opens, making me turn toward it with an anxious twitch. The guy who brought me in walks out and gestures for me to come in.

I remind myself to walk tall and confident. The act has become almost second nature—had to, really—but in moments of high stress, this nervous part of me always wants to come out and take control.

The large windowless office smells of cigars and old books. It smells ofhistory. Of countless deals struck, lives ruined and made. I stop in front of the mahogany table ahead, hands still held together, and nod with my eyes down in respect.

“Kobe, correct?” the man asks, voice smooth and deep.

“Yes, sir.”

Sensing his gaze, I finally look up to seetheSolomon Zane. The person Mr. Wilson always spoke so highly of. A mob boss of a much higher caliber than him, as he once admitted to me on one of our late-night drives home. There he sits, surrounded by two battle-worn, tattooed bodyguards.

Zane judges me unabashedly, running his dark eyes up and down. Even at maybe sixty years old, his shoulders are broad and his presence striking. He looks like a man who’s seen a lot. Someone who has a firm grip on his organization; whose aura is sharp and unforgiving.

“So, you are the driver Carlos recommended. I must admit, I expected…something else when he told me you were an omega,” he says with a chuckle, but his voice gets lighter at the end, as if to show he isn’t trying to disrespect me.

Not at all surprising comment.

“I try to not let that get in the way, sir,” I say, tightening the grip of my leather gloves.

Solomon Zane laughs heartily. “I like that. Carlos only had the best things to say about you. Said you had potential. Could do what it takes. Were reliable. Those are good attributes for this line of work. You seem young and strong enough, too.” As he says so, his eyes dart across my frame again.

A faint smell passes in the air between us and I realize that a part of the scent of this room is something more than the books and the years of smoking. He’s an alpha, after all. His pheromones are fainter, as they usually fade with age, and they also somehow perfectly blend in with our surroundings, making it nearly impossible for me to recognize what exactly they remind me of.

“I’ve asked around and heard only the best about you. I always need people I can count on, especially as the business grows. And, of course, someone will have to take over Carlos’ old racket, since he so foolishly retired,” Zane says with a hint of bitterness to his voice. Like the word itself holds a different meaning to him.

I clench my jaw. Carlos Wilson’s decision to abandon his business and leave with his new wife to live on the other side of the planet certainly threw quite a few people for a loop, including his close associates. Things will be rocky for a while around the criminal underbelly of the city, making me that more grateful he vouched for me with his old acquaintance.

“He’s had enough of this life for some time, I think,” I say, immediately wondering if I should have kept that to myself.

The old man and I got pretty comfortable in the years I’ve worked for him. I must remember that things might work differently here. I need to tread that tricky line of being useful and respectful while not allowing people to step over me carefully.

Solomon snorts, tilting his head to the side. I notice he’s playing with a cigar in his hand, tapping it against the table.

“He’s a fool if he believes that. We all have our place in this world. A place where we are meant to be till the end, bitter or not. You understand that, don’t you?”

I meet his eyes with a serious expression. “I know nothing but this, sir. It’s what I do best,” I say, even if speaking those words tugs at something inside me.

I don’t want them to be true, not really. But life is hardly what we’d like it to be. I learned that a long time ago.

He seems pleased, easing some of my tension. At least it no longer feels like I’m standing here being interrogated or waiting for some sort of judgment. Smiling, Zane leans back into his expensive-looking leather chair that looks almost like a throne.

“Good. Now…you will mostly work for my son, Jasper,” he says. I can’t help but notice a hint of exasperation in his sigh that follows. I search my mind for the name. Jasper Zane. Jasper Zane. It sounds vaguely familiar. There are so many names in this business, and Carlos always told me not to worry about them, only about my orders. “I want you to fill the position of his driver. Recently, he’s had some trouble with unreliable characters, so the job is vacant. You’ll do what he asks you to, but at the end of the day, I also need you to keep an eye on him.”

The implication makes me draw in a deep breath and flex my shoulders.

What does he mean by that, exactly?

He notices my hesitancy and leans over the table. “Carlos spoke of your—how should I put this—ability to see certain things more clearly than most people your age usually do. My son’s not much older than you are. He is full of reckless, hungry confidence of youth. Sometimes he forgets he isn’t the master of this beast that I’ve built just yet. Youearnthat. He’s smart and capable, but he often fails to think about the broader picture before he acts. Or rather, he thinks he doesn’t have to. And that can be a fatal mistake. Though, of course, he believes himself untouchable, as many in their prime do. So…as you did with Carlos, I ask you to try to be a sensible influence on him when appropriate. Report to me if you feel like anything is unraveling in an…unproductive way.”

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