Page 67 of A Worthy Opponent
“Not yet.” He steps half in front of me, forcing me to a stop. “We have three teams on her. She’s won’t be out of sight at any point during this. Butyouneed to be out of sight. Peter won’t strike if he thinks you’ll be there to counter.”
He’s right. I hate that he’s right.
I force several deep breaths into my lungs. It does nothing to dispel the feeling of impending doom. “We’ll take a parallel route.”
Nigel hesitates, but he must realize that this is the only option that will keep my head on straight. “Let’s go.”
Tink’s route isn’t exactly random. She’s heading to a little fabric boutique that’s been owned by the same family since before either of us were born. They paid their dues to stay out of Peter’s mess, and they’ve done the same with me, though I lowered the rates. My goal isn’t to drive my people’s businesses into the ground. It never was.
We move at a decent pace, and Nigel keeps his phone in his hand as a stream of texted updates come in. Nothing yet. No sign of Peter.
The farther we get from my core territory, the worse the feeling of something about to go terribly wrong. We’re well outside the main patrols I have scheduled, though my men do regular checks through the entire territory. Not regular enough to keep Peter out, though, which is why we’re in this mess to begin with.
We keep walking, and half my attention is on Nigel. Every half block or so, he shakes his head.No Peter.
Where the hell is the bastard?
We turn a corner, mirroring Tink’s path. The buildings this far out haven’t gotten the face-lifts of the ones closer to the center of the territory. It’s a never-ending project, trying to keep everyone above water, and the money flows in fits and starts. In another five years, there won’t be buildings falling down, and the only shady shit happening in alleys will be sanctioned by me. We’re not there yet, and this street only drives that fact home. Bars on windows. Everything feeling a little grungy, as if covered in a layer of dirt.
We’re close to where the line between my influence and Peter’s is blurred. My steps slow without my intending them to. “Nigel.”
“She’s fine.” Nigel shakes his head, his attention on his phone. “She’s almost to the boutique.”
“It’s not that. It’s—” I see the blow coming out of the corner of my eye and lunge forward, shoving my cousin out of the way. The baton takes me in the shoulder instead of him in the head. Pain flares, intense enough to leave me woozy. “Get Tink.”
Nigel curses. “Are you fucking with me?”
There’s only one attacker, and their mask tells me this is a diversion. “Tink. Now, Nigel. I got this.” If he thinks I’m distracted, Peter will move on Tink. He’llhurther. “Go!”
“Goddamn it, Hook. I’m sending Colin’s team this way.”
The baton comes whistling at my head again, and I have no breath to argue. He’s obeying, and that’s enough. I barely dodge the blow this time and kick out, aiming for the masked man’s knees. A crunch as my boot makes contact, and he goes down. I step forward and kick the baton from his hands and then lean down to yank off the mask.
I don’t recognize him, but the guy is more kid than man. If he’s eighteen, I’ll be surprised as hell. Peter always liked to surround himself with teenagers. They look at him like he’s a god, and it feeds his ego something fierce. “Who the hell are you?”
“John.” He grins suddenly. “Gotcha.”
“What the hell?”
This blow, I don’t see coming. It knocks me off my feet, and I land hard on the ground, asphalt grinding against my face. I’m still trying to relearn how to breathe when a boot catches me on my injured shoulder, the force of the kick knocking me onto my back.
I already know who I’ll see before the bastard leans over me, a satisfied smirk on his face. Brown hair, blue eyes. A face that might be trustworthy if a person didn’t know better. I know better.
“Fancy seeing you here, Hook.”
“Fuck off, Peter.”
“Hook and I are long overdue for a conversation.” He motions to the men who appear at the mouth of a nearby alley. “Get him up. Let’s go.”
Chapter 27
Tink
Iknow something’s wrong the second Nigel appears at my side. I don’t get a single word out before he’s hauling me down a side street, his grip firm but not hurting my arm. He barely checks his stride so I can keep up with his longer legs. “There was an attack.”
“What?” I look around, but the handful of people on the street are very pointedly not paying attention to us. “What are you talking about?” Understanding dawns, and I almost trip over my feet. “Is he okay?”
“Hook can handle some asshole with a baton.” Nigel doesn’t look convinced, though. He glances at me. “He sent me to make sure it wasn’t a diversion so they could go after you.”
