CARTER
Ienjoyed the day with Emma. It kept me grounded to be near her, but now I had to get her out of my mind. No distractions. When I pulled up at the mansion, I entered the code at the black wrought-iron gate. The stone driveway circled the large, white brick mansion and there was already a line of cars, ranging from fast sports cars to luxury sedans. What I didn’t understand was how Scar had all of it. The bastard spent the last twenty-seven years in prison.
Once out of my car, I grabbed my bag from the backseat and looked around at the San Fernando Valley home. There weren’t any close neighbors nearby, which worked in Scar’s favor.
The two men stationed at the front door stepped aside so I could enter. From what I gathered, their names were Antonio and Bridger, and were Scar’s main bodyguards. They were tall and stocky, both with slicked-back dark hair. I’d never heard them speak, nor have I seen them without shades over their eyes. They looked like the kind of men who’d put a bullet in your head without a second thought.
Entering the house, I headed past the kitchen to the hallway that led to the basement entrance. As I walked down the stairs, the energy in the air shifted to something more sinister, darker. It was like a whole other world in that basement.
Two of Scar’s men were in the corner lifting weights, so I chose the opposite side of the room where the punching bags were. Dropping my gear to the floor, I took off my shirt and slipped in my earbuds, cranking up Avenged Sevenfold as loud as possible. The music blasted in my ears as I pounded on the bag until my body and mind went numb. It was the only way I’d be able to follow through with the fight—by taking out all emotion.
Sweat dripped down my back, soaking into the waistband of my shorts. I didn’t want to stop, even as it fell into my eyes, obscuring my view. A few minutes later, someone walked up behind the bag, and I didn’t have to see clearly to know who it was. Twisting my body, I roundhouse kicked the punching bag, making it slam into Nikolai’s side.
Laughing, he steadied it. “Damn, Reynolds. Save some for the fight tonight; you’re gonna need it.”
“I’m already ready,” I snarled.
Nikolai shook his head. “Actually, you’re not. That’s why I’m here. There’s been a change of plans.”
Stepping away from the bag, I glared at him. “What are you talking about?”
A smirk spread across Nikolai’s face. “I’m taking your place tonight.”
I didn’t like the leer on his face; something was up. “Why?”
Nikolai’s attention moved to the other side of the room. “Take a look.”
The second I turned my head was when I saw them: Ripp, Braden, Kase, Hunter, and Ethan. “What the …” I stormed away from Nikolai, straight to them. “What the hell is this?”
Braden was the one who stepped forward first, his green eyes blazing. “We’re here to help you, you insufferable ass. You shouldn’t have to do this alone.”
Hands planted on my hips, I hung my head and sighed. “Emma told you.”
“Don’t be mad at her,” Ethan said. I lifted my head and he stepped forward. “She just wanted to help, just like the rest of us.”
Kase came up and slapped me on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Reynolds. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Honestly, this isn’t supposed to be your fight. One way or another, Scar was going to get us all here.”
Grinning smugly, Nikolai joined us. “Tonight is the beginning. I hope you’re prepared.”
Once he was gone, I stared at my friends, knowing it was too late to get them out. “You shouldn’t be here.”
* * *
Wheeler, Nikolai’s main bodyguard, drove me and the guys to a rundown warehouse on the industrial side of town notorious for gang activity. The streets were quiet, almost as if there were an ominous energy warning people away.
“Seriously?” Ethan called out. “Where the fuck are we going?”
Wheeler pulled into the back of the warehouse, ignoring Ethan’s question. There were other cars around—expensive ones at that—but they were all hidden from the road out front. Wheeler parked amongst them and opened his door.
“Get out,” he grumbled.
I was in the front with him, so I opened my door while the guys climbed out the back. We followed Wheeler inside the dark, musty warehouse which smelled like piss, shit, and rotting wood. The feel of death hung heavy in the air, and I strongly suspected that tonight wasn’t the first night someone had lost their life there.
There were a dozen men inside—all older and dressed in suits—involved in their own in-depth conversations. “Where do you want us?” I asked Wheeler.
A few men looked our way with wide eyes, confusion sweeping across them. I didn’t know what to make of it. Finally, Wheeler pointed at the group and said, “Anywhere. The fight starts in ten minutes.”
He disappeared around the corner, and I glanced back at the guys. “Go on. I want to hang back for a minute.”