Timber (Hades Book 4) Read online

He laughed coldly in response. "Why lie about who my dad was, then? Why tell me it was Nicholas, who was dead, when Brant was still out there?"

  "Because..." she replied, weak.

  "Because Brant was in the Guild," Lucas answered for her. "And you didn't want me tracking him down and getting snatched up by the mercenaries and their fucked up child soldier program?"

  Sandra gasped. "What? No. Brant didn't even know about the Guild. He just... disappeared one day. I didn't want you thinking your daddy didn't love you, so I pretended he was dead."

  Oh shit. She really didn't know.

  "Mom," Lucas sighed. "I love you, Mom. But are you honestly that gullible? Brant was Guild, then he was FBI. He was here in Shadow Grove just six months ago."

  Sandra's response was a mess of mumbled words between crying, and Lucas soothed her with empty platitudes. It made no difference now, but I'd put money on it that his Uncle Jack had known.

  Lucas must have decided he'd gotten enough answers for one day because he shifted the conversation back to her medication. As calmly as he could, he explained to her everything our lab had told us about the mixture of drugs she'd been taking. That they would eventually kill her.

  When she protested about the Guild coming for her, Lucas promised that we would keep her safe and that Big Sal had offered to move in and become her permanent bodyguard. That was news to me, but I was more than okay with Lucas making those decisions. It was all part of him taking a more active role on Team Hades.

  Claudette arrived back from a shopping trip about twenty minutes later, and Lucas said his goodbyes to his mom before stepping back outside to where I was waiting.

  I looked up at him from my seat outside the window, and I saw the understanding on his face.

  "You heard all of it?" he asked softly, nodding to the window.

  I inclined my head, stood up, and wrapped my arms around his waist. "Most of it."

  He hugged me back tight, my face smooshed into his chest. "Let's get out of here," he muttered. "I've got something to show you, anyway."

  We'd both driven to his mom’s, but Lucas decided to leave the Mustang there and ride with me in the Porsche, offering directions toward the Shadow Grove industrial area.

  "We're heading back to 7th Circle?" I asked as the streets became familiar. 7th had been in a converted warehouse on the edge of Shadow Grove where there were no residents to complain about the noise. It'd been perfect for the type of hedonistic club it was, and I was still stinging about its destruction.

  "Sort of," he murmured, shooting me a sly smile. I could recognize his compartmentalizing for what it was. His mom's confessions had blown his mind, and he needed to totally focus on something else for a while.

  He pointed to a turnoff two streets before we would have arrived at the vacant lot that used to be 7th Circle and directed me to stop at an empty building.

  Grinning, he hopped out of the car and waited for me to join him before approaching the front door. It wasn't locked, and Lucas pushed it open confidently, holding it for me to enter.

  "Where are we, Lucas?" I peered into the darkness, noting that it was another empty warehouse. This one was different from 7th Circle, though—a bit smaller and made with lots of natural wood. In a way, the raked ceiling reminded me of Timber.

  "Well..." he closed the door behind us and found my hand. The dirty windows only let slivers of afternoon sunlight in. He tugged me farther into the room, then shrugged. "Maybe the new 7th Circle?"

  My lips parted in shock. It had definite potential, but...

  "I'm so confused, Lucas," I confessed. "Give me more information."

  Chuckling, he tugged me across the vast space to a wooden bench built into the side. "So, I remembered how your insurance company wouldn't pay out for 7th Circle."

  Ugh, because Chase fucking owned them. "I had that decision overturned," I reminded him. "They still need to pay out, and I'll make them do it."

  Lucas shrugged. "Yeah, but I started thinking on this before that. It'd be cheaper to start over in a new building than rebuild from rubble." He hesitated, losing a bit of excitement. "Or, shit, maybe I'm wrong. This is definitely not my area of expertise, but I got a call about this place while you were missing and mentioned it to Zed. He told me to use my damn brain and ask myself, What would Dare do? So..." He waved a hand at the wall above where we stood. On it, someone had spray painted the word Malebolge.

  I barked a laugh in disbelief at how thoughtful the whole thing was. "Malebolge," I repeated in a soft murmur. "The eighth circle."

  Lucas's arms looped around my waist, and he kissed the bend of my neck as I gazed up at the spray paint. "7th Circle was where we met, Hayden. I couldn't just let it die. If you hate it or you don't want—"

  I cut him off by twisting my neck and claiming his lips with my own. I spun around in his arms, holding him tighter as I kissed all my overwhelming emotions into him. Then when we were both panting, I pressed my forehead to his and whispered with total sincerity, "It's perfect."

  32

  My wild plans for an early bedtime were thwarted before we even pulled into the garage. My phone started ringing on the Porsche's Bluetooth, and I glanced down to see it was Zed calling.

  "Hey you," I answered warmly. "You're not home yet?" We'd just parked, and his Ferrari was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Cass's bike.

  "Unfortunately not," he replied, sounding irritated. "I'm at Anarchy, but you might want to get over here."

  I exchanged a worried look with Lucas. "What's happened?"

  "It's nothing too urgent," Zed gritted out, "but you'll probably want to get here before the fights start for the night."

  I checked the time. Lucas and I had spent a while in the warehouse tossing around ideas for how the venue could be laid out. His main excitement had been around the stage and an aerial pole that he wanted to get installed. It was essentially a pole suspended from the ceiling and not tethered at the bottom, so it swung free.

  "An hour?" I asked, even though I knew perfectly well what time the Anarchy fights started. "We just got home. I'll get changed and be there in forty-five."

  "Good," Zed replied. Then shouts broke out in the background, and he ended the call abruptly.

  "Uh... maybe we should be quick," Lucas suggested, following me into the house.

  I grimaced but agreed. Zed hadn't sounded worried, just annoyed, which probably meant someone planned on fighting that he didn't want in our octagon. And if he needed me to handle it... "Fuck’s sake," I groaned. "Cass."

  "Cass?" Lucas repeated.

  Breathing out a string of curses, I tugged my shirt off with a small wince as my shoulder tweaked. A week of PT had done wonders for my range of motion, but it'd be months before I was back to normal.

  "Yeah. Cass. Anyone else, Zed would be able to handle. If he's asking me to come down, there's only one person who could be causing him strife."

  Lucas nodded. "Cass, for sure. I'll get changed quickly."

  I headed for my own closet and automatically reached for jeans, then changed my mind. If Cass was stirring up shit with Zed, I'd dress for distraction. So I went further into my clothes and pulled out a formfitting black dress that boosted my tits up like something out of Playboy and hugged my ass like a lover's hands.

  It was a tricky one to do up, being so damn tight, and I had to yell out to Lucas for help. When he came into my room to answer my call, he pulled up short and gaped.

  "Oh shit," he chuckled. "Cass is in so much trouble. Please tell me I get to help punish him." His eyes flared hot and his tongue swiped over his lower lip like he was already imagining how he could hike my skirt up and bury his face between my thighs.

  I grinned, agreeing to nothing. "Zip me up." I spun around to give him my back.

  He took his time with it, his fingers trailing over my bare back and making me shiver with desire before he secured the top of the dress with the little clasp.

  Dancing out of his reach, I sent him a warning look and grabb
ed a pair of high heels from my closet. They were black Louboutin's, of course, but had a sexy buckle around the ankle and zipper detail on the back of the thick stiletto.

  "You look pretty edible yourself, Lucas Wildeboer," I commented once my shoes were on. I stepped up closer and grabbed the lapels of his suit jacket, pulling him close to kiss me. "But we need to go."

  He let out a frustrated sigh but touched a gentle hand to my back as we hurried down to the car. I passed him the keys to the Porsche, letting him drive so I could do my makeup on the way over to Anarchy. It wasn't the easiest way to apply liquid eyeliner, but I'd done it often enough that it was doable.

  It took us about twenty minutes to get from Zed's house to Anarchy, so we pulled into the staff parking lot earlier than I'd told Zed to expect us. Alexi was waiting, though, leaning against the fire escape door that would lead directly into the big top—my fight arena.

  "Hades, sir," he called out, straightening up when we climbed out of the Porsche. His eyes widened, and he raked them down my outfit before catching himself. "It's so good to see you. I was really worried, and Zed wouldn't even tell me if you were okay. I thought—"

  "I'm fine, Alexi," I cut him off with a tight smile. I still didn't trust him. Not like I had before. "As you can see, whatever rumors you heard were grossly exaggerated."

  The thick leather strap of my gun holster hid the puckered scar on my shoulder, and a wide bracelet covered the one at my wrist. To the unsuspecting observer, I was totally unharmed.

  A wide smile of relief spread across Alexi's face, and he opened the fire-exit door for us to enter. The noise of the crowd reached us almost instantly, dulled only by the corridor we were in.

  "Where's Zed?" I asked Alexi as he fell into step beside me. It didn't escape my notice that he basically acted like Lucas wasn't here, so I reached out to take Lucas's hand.

  Alexi flicked a look down at my movement, and a lightning-fast frown tugged his brow before it smoothed out once more. "Last I saw him, he was in VIP breaking up a fight. He's probably in the locker room now, though."

  My eyes narrowed. "There was a fight? Between who?" Because fuck me, if any gangs were involved, I would rain hellfire down. They knew my rules; my clubs were off-limits for their petty disputes. Nothing drove paying customers away faster than the threat of being caught in crossfire.

  Alexi gave me a nervous look, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, probably better for Zed to explain it all. He said he had it handled."

  That just worried me even more. It was definitely Cass if Alexi was too chickenshit to tell me himself. Ignoring my head of security, I tugged Lucas along faster as I headed for the locker rooms, my heels clicking loudly on the concrete floor.

  We needed to cut through the side of the main arena, and the roaring of the excited crowd was almost deafening. Our usual pre-fight entertainment was in full swing with the gorgeous dancers shaking their shit like crazy, riding the excitement high.

  I stopped myself just short of kicking down the locker room door and gave it a hard shove instead. Cass and Zed were inside, as expected, and Lucas didn't need me to tell him before he closed the door in Alexi's face. Whatever was going on, it was a family matter. Alexi wasn't family.

  Propping my hands on my hips, I glared hard at Cass—who was stripped to the waist and in the process of taping his hands.

  "Start talking, Saint."

  He didn't even flinch when he met my gaze, cool as a goddamn cucumber. Fuck, I loved his grumpy ass, but sometimes I could happily smother him with a pillow.

  "Your main event fight for tonight got cancelled," he informed me. "But don't worry, Red, I've got you covered."

  Lucas made a sound that bordered on a laugh of disbelief, and I felt my eye twitch with rage.

  "Cassiel..." I growled his name with warning, and Zed came over to me, his body blocking Cass from my death glare.

  "It's a good fight," he explained. "Have you seen the crowd out there? That was with just forty-five minutes of social media rumors."

  I blinked at him in shock. "You're supporting this? What the fuck, Zed? Cass, you were supposed to be dead a week ago, and now you're doing a highly public appearance in the octagon? For one thing, I thought you were retired—"

  "Rude," Cass muttered, cutting me off. "I'm not a fucking senior citizen, Red. I think I proved that when I fought Johnny Rock."

  I pushed Zed aside, storming over to where the big, tattooed asshole was still calmly taping his hands like he didn't have a care in the world. "Cass. You were shot in the shoulder. Don't even try and tell me it doesn't still bother you; I know it does."

  He finally stopped with the tape to grab my waist and pull me closer. "Red, are you angry or worried? It's hard to tell."

  "Fuck you," I snarled back, sorely tempted to punch him in the face for mocking me.

  He flashed me a smirk, his hands moving down to cup my ass through the skin-tight dress. "Well, this fight wasn't my idea. If you want to get mad at anyone, take it next door." He jerked his head in the direction of the second locker room.

  My eyes narrowed further. "Who?" I demanded. "Who challenged you, Cass?"

  The locker room door burst open right then, the sound echoing through the room and jerking my furious attention toward the intruder.

  "Hey Cass, you ready in here? The crowd is going nuts; might be good to—" The blond bastard looked up from his phone and froze when he locked eyes with me. "Oh shit."

  "Oh shit is fucking right, Kody," I snarled. I would have marched over there and kicked him right in the face if Cass hadn't tightened his grip on my ass and pulled me in closer so his legs bracketed me. Trapping me.

  "Uh..." Kodiak Jones, CEO of KJ-Fit gyms, paled and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "I'm just... gonna... go."

  My lip curled in a snarl, but Kody was slick as hell, ducking right back out of the locker room before I could wriggle free of Cass's hold. No wonder there was such a frenzied crowd out there. Archer D'Ath versus his mentor? Fight fans would be foaming at the mouth to place bets.

  "Those motherfuckers!" I raged. "How fucking dare they? No, fuck this. You're not fighting, Cass. You can't because I'm going to kill all fucking three of them."

  Lucas did nothing to dissuade me, just watched with a vaguely concerned expression as he leaned against the lockers. Zed and Cass were in full damage-control mode, though.

  "Dare, you can't kill them," Zed attempted to reason. "They're as close to friends as we have, and right now we're sorely lacking in those."

  "Besides, they only came back to town because of me," Cass rumbled, grabbing my hand and reeling me back in. "They found out through the grapevine that I was alive again."

  "And they were... somewhat put out," Zed finished, wincing as he said it.

  My phone beeped, and Lucas pulled it from his pocket, since my dress was lacking in phone space.

  "Seph," he told me, holding it out.

  I grabbed it and checked the message. She was letting me know that Archer and co. were back in town and super pissed that they didn't know Cass was alive.

  "Bit late now, Seph," I muttered, tossing the phone back to Lucas before refocusing on Cass. "Why didn't you call me? If Archer started a fight in my venue—"

  Cass cut me off, an edge of anger in his voice. "Last I checked, I was capable of handling my own disputes."

  I ground my teeth in fury. "They broke my rules."

  He tipped his chin back, meeting my gaze steadily. "And I'm dealing with that as a key member of the Timberwolves management. Or was that job title all bullshit?"

  My lips parted, but words failed me. I wasn't used to sharing my power, and this was most definitely not how I would have handled things. But it wasn't a bullshit appointment, and I hated that he might think it was.

  "No," I muttered, "it wasn't." I ground my teeth hard, trying to swallow down my anger. "Fine. If this is how you want to deal with it, then so be it. But if you threw any punches outside of the octagon, you'll also need to be punish
ed."

  A dark look flashed through his eyes, and the corners of his lips tugged in a smile. "I look forward to it."

  His hands were back at my ass again, pulling me in closer, and I let him. Cupping his face with my hands, I tilted his head back and hovered my lips above his like I was about to kiss him.

  "You’d better hand that little shit his ass on a platter, Saint," I told him in a hard whisper, "or your punishment won't be anywhere near as enjoyable as you think it'll be."

  Cass gave a low groan, his fingers flexing on my ass. "I love it when you threaten me, Angel."

  Rolling my eyes, I shoved him away and stormed out of the locker room. Vaguely I sensed Lucas following, but the second I got through the door, I locked eyes with a head-shaved prick leaning against the wall of the corridor next to the other locker room. His pretty girlfriend was beside him, chatting animatedly with Dallas's wife, but all three of them fell silent when I stalked closer.

  "I want to see all three of you in my office the second this fight is over," I snapped to Max Steele—Archer's third musketeer—and the cold threat in my voice was as clear as a bell. "Conscious or not."

  Dallas's wife, Bree, gave a feral grin, and as I continued down the corridor, I heard her snicker. "Oh, you're in so much trouble, Steele." She chuckled. "So much trouble."

  She was right about that. I didn't give a shit what scores got settled in the octagon between Cass and Archer; they'd disobeyed me. That couldn't be ignored.

  33

  Lucas and I headed up to the Anarchy big top VIP room, which was really a small balcony area with awesome views of the octagon and a private bar. No way in hell was I fighting crowds to get a drink at the main bar, and I needed a drink. It was all I could do not to storm back down to the locker rooms and tear some shreds out of Archer myself.

  But, like Zed had pointed out... this was great for business.

  "You don't want to sit down there?" Lucas asked, indicating the front row seats we'd occupied last time Cass had fought. It was an area reserved for his "team," but I was way too angry to play the part tonight.