Page 129 of Maddox

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked.

I scratched my jaw, trying to remember the last details from when I’d heard the moniker. The asshole had been nothing but a troublemaker, a trust fund baby with a penchant for danger and a knack with explosives. There was a rumor his kingpin daddy had shoved Raptor’s delinquent ass into the military as punishment. The kid had been a danger to the team. He’d proven that time and time again. “It’s entirely possible.” Everyone within our unit had monikers, names that suited their talents and expertise. They were often used more than our given names.

Was it possible this was someone else? Yes, but I had my doubts.

Kage laughed. “That motherfucker. He had more skills than common sense.”

“And a father with money and power.” I kept my gaze locked on my once best friend. We’d sparred with Raptor, aka Misha Provincal, a half dozen times.

“He thought you were his best friend when he joined the team. Remember?”

“He thought wrong.”

It would seem I’d been lured into doing the grunt work for a group who either didn’t want to get their hands dirty or knew instinctively they wouldn’t be successful.

Either way, it pissed me the fuck off.

“Then I think you need to contact Gray. From what you’ve told me, it’s possible he and whatever clandestine group he’s working with already have suspicions.”

“Yeah,” I hissed. “You’re right. And if you are, I’m going to fucking hunt and kill the man.”

Charmaine

I leaned against the couch, stretching my back. Since the boys had headed outside, I’d been working on the article I’d already started writing, hunched over the laptop for a couple of hours. At least I’d had the time to concentrate. I hadn’t realized how many notes I’d taken over the months of feeling incarcerated. Some had seemed scattered at the time, but just by reading them over, I realized I had more than a smoking gun at my fingertips. I had highly explosive material. The only missing piece, if all of us were right, were the names of those in control of using methods of extortion and blackmail.

And murder.

Even without them, the article shed some harsh light on several industries, pharmaceuticals being only one. If only there was a way to bring Alfaro out in the open. He was the real key, the single person who could put all the pieces together.

Sighing, I leaned over again, studying my notes as I typed a few additional thoughts.

Blip.

The sound was faint, but unmistakable.

I’d received a text.

I grabbed my phone, staring down at the screen. A rush of both dread and excitement rolled through me.

Unknown:This is bigger than anticipated. You cannot handle this. Back away.

As usual, the journalist—and the bitch—inside of me wasn’t interested in cryptic messages.

Me:Not good enough. Who are you and what do you know? I plan on releasing names.

I was shocked when I noticed the three blips, my eagerness almost overwhelming.

Unknown:Listen to what I’m saying. There are people who want you dead.

A slight chuckle pushed past my lips. I wanted to tell the person they’d need to take a number. I could feel whoever was sending me the texts wanted to say more.

Me:I can’t do that. I am going public with what I know. And trust me, heads will roll.

Immediately the blips appeared on my screen.

Unknown:If you do you will die, Char. You cannot do that. Just walk away. Let others handle the danger.

Wait. What?

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