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Chapters (57)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Acknowledgements
  5. CHAPTER 1
  6. CHAPTER 2
  7. CHAPTER 3
  8. CHAPTER 4
  9. CHAPTER 5
  10. CHAPTER 6
  11. CHAPTER 7
  12. CHAPTER 8
  13. CHAPTER 9
  14. CHAPTER 10
  15. CHAPTER 11
  16. CHAPTER 12
  17. CHAPTER 13
  18. CHAPTER 14
  19. CHAPTER 15
  20. CHAPTER 16
  21. CHAPTER 17
  22. CHAPTER 18
  23. CHAPTER 19
  24. CHAPTER 20
  25. CHAPTER 21
  26. CHAPTER 22
  27. CHAPTER 23
  28. CHAPTER 24
  29. CHAPTER 25
  30. CHAPTER 26
  31. CHAPTER 27
  32. CHAPTER 28
  33. CHAPTER 29
  34. CHAPTER 30
  35. CHAPTER 31
  36. CHAPTER 32
  37. CHAPTER 33
  38. CHAPTER 34
  39. CHAPTER 35
  40. CHAPTER 36
  41. CHAPTER 37
  42. CHAPTER 38
  43. CHAPTER 39
  44. CHAPTER 40
  45. CHAPTER 41
  46. CHAPTER 42
  47. CHAPTER 43
  48. CHAPTER 44
  49. CHAPTER 45
  50. CHAPTER 46
  51. CHAPTER 47
  52. CHAPTER 48
  53. CHAPTER 49
  54. CHAPTER 50
  55. CHAPTER 51
  56. CHAPTER 52
  57. Teaser chapter

Isaac stared over Heron’s heavy shoulder, right into the face of the man who’d been sent to kill him. “Yeah. I am.”

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 10

It was past ten o’clock when Grier parked her Audi out in Malden and cut the engine. She’d manuevered the sedan around on the packed dirt so that it was facing out and was away from most of the other cars—although it wasn’t as if the “parking lot” had any dedicated exit or entrance or spaces.

As she’d driven by the address Louie had given her over the phone, she hadn’t been sure she was in the right place. The office park had been empty as far as she could tell, the dozen or so matching five-stories spiraling off from an unlit main drive like schoolchildren lined up for a head count. Evidently, the development had been intended for high-tech companies, at least according to the sign that read, MALDEN TECHNOLOGICAL PARK. Instead, it was a ghost town.

Louie never steered her wrong, though, so she’d turned in and gone all the way to the back . . . and found about twenty-five trucks and cars behind the building farthest from the main road. Made sense. If she were trespassing to put on an illegal cage fight, she’d have made sure she was as hidden as possible, too.

Getting out of her car, she went over to the fire door that was propped open by a cinder block, and walked in. The deep, buzzing growl of a crowd of men boiled down the hallway, the testosterone forming a wall she practically had to push through. As she headed toward the sound, she wasn’t worried about the meathead quotient—which was clearly going to be high. She had Mace in one pocket and a stun gun in the other: The former was legal in the state of Massachusetts if you had a valid firearm identification card and she did. The latter . . . well, she’d pay the five-hundred-dollar fine, assuming she ever had to use the thing.

If she could walk into a crack house in New Bedford at midnight, she could handle this.

As she emerged into an atrium of sorts and got a gander at the six-foot-high, chain-link walls of the fighting octagon, she was well aware she could have just called the cops on the match tonight—but then Isaac, assuming he showed up, would either be arrested again or take off. And in either of those cases, she might not have a chance to get to him. Her goal was to have him stop and think long enough to see what he was doing. Running away was never the solution, and if he went that route, he’d have a warrant out for his arrest, more charges against him, and the beginnings of a record.