Page 12 of Torn Souls

My suits hide my inner nerd and my love for technology and computers. My obsession with tech has served Kirill and the organization well.

Then there is how my suits hide my thirst for blood and violence. Most people would just see me as a professional and not look deep enough to see the demon inside of me begging to be let out.

Baker arches his eyebrow in my direction. “Have you found out anything else about Chambers?”

“Nothing new,” I respond with a shrug. “He worked with Morozov for years. He’s in finance and everything about him looks good on paper, but it’s all a front.”

“Nothing surprising there,” Baker mutters. He looks up to find us watching him and he shrugs unapologetically. “Anyone who worked with that scum has some marks on his soul.”

“It’s not like we’re exactly choir boys,” Maxim snarks.

I glance his way but it’s Kirill who growls, “But there are lines we won’t cross. My city’s ports will never be used to peddle flesh.”

The descending silence is full of tension. Knowing the men who used to wield power in this city used it to abuse and terrorize women, changing the course of their entire lives by selling them as if their only worth was tied to their bodies, pisses all of us off.

It’s not right.

It’s not what men should be doing with their power.

Baker checks the knives he has strapped to him. Again.

I smirk at the man, and he only gives a shrug, not giving a shit. He takes his position as the muscle of the group very seriously. None of us need him to protect us, we’re more than capable of doing it ourselves, but that doesn’t mean Baker’s role isn’t important. It is.

He keeps his head about him when the heat is on. He’ll analyze every situation and make sure all contingencies are considered but then he’ll act.

Baker will charge headlong into any given situation with guns blazing. He won’t think twice about it either. The man will bathe in blood and smile the entire time.

“Chambers has a daughter,” my voice cuts through the room and the guys turn towards me slowly with various looks of surprise and knowing on their faces.

“He didn’t sell her to Morozov or try and marry her off to Mikhail?” Kirill’s tone is full of censure.

“I don’t know,” I tell him honestly. “His daughter lives at home and has a college degree. There isn’t much to really say about her beyond that. She has a relatively normal technological footprint, except for when it comes to social media. She has accounts but doesn’t post much.”

“So not some vapid socialite?” Maxim’s lip curls as he asks the question about the daughter.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” I admit, bored with this conversation.

Bored with everything about tonight. To say I’m not looking forward to dinner and meeting Chambers would be an understatement.

If Chambers believes that we don’t know what he’s up to, that he’s trying to worm his way into Kirill’s good graces because Morozov is no longer around to do business with, then he’s going to be in for a big surprise.

Kirill isn’t a man to be taken lightly or to be underestimated. Chambers is doing both which doesn’t bode well for him.

“How much do you want to bet that Chambers is going to offer up his daughter to you,” Maxim teases with a smirk.

Kirill lets out a groan and mutters, “I need to grab another clip.”

Laughter fills the room, and I grin at the men who have become my brothers. Kirill is likely to kill the man right there in the restaurant if he tries any such thing. We don’t deal in flesh and then for a father to use his daughter, practically selling her?

Talk about shit that won’t go over well.

And if the woman is loud, spoiled, and bratty? It will make the whole thing even worse.

Considering how much Chambers revels in appearances, I doubt she will be anything less than an over inflated princess.

Baker pulls his knives out and then sheaths them again. Maxim snorts out a laugh.

“On edge, Baker?” Maxim taunts the man in question, not bothered by the knives he’s just slid back into place while Baker shoots him a glare.

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