Page 34 of Through Any Fire (Any x #1)

This guy? He doesn’t look like he’d be capable of putting on shoes with Velcro straps, let alone something of this magnitude. But he bears a striking resemblance to the man Loren described at the Edwards’s dinner and who we saw in the CCTV footage.

“Who’s he working with?”

Rose’s brows jump the slightest hair, as if she’s surprised by my question. But she covers it quickly and brushes me off. “No partner. Just a lot of manpower. Manpower that I don’t have to go up against. And I need him dead. ”

I pretend to think about it for a moment, letting Rose and her crew believe I’m considering it. Honestly, it seems too easy.

I push from the table. “Thanks for the stories, but it’s time for us to go now. We only meet with credible sources, and given you can’t prove anything, I have no choice but to cut the evening short. Have a good night.”

Matthias and Luc follow closely behind as we march toward the exit, but before we can reach the door, two armed men step in front of it. I look over my shoulder to find Rose still seated.

“We’re not finished. Please take your seats.”

I sigh. I’m at my fucking wits’ end, and my fingers itch to get back to Loren. “Do you really think two men can stop me from leaving? You seem to know my name, but do you know who I am?”

“I know much more than that, Mr. Keane. For example, who you’ve been keeping in secure room four, in your basement.”

Like a punch to the gut, the breath in my chest is stolen. How the fuck does she know who’s down there? My gaze slices to Matthias. He looks back, his frustration clear. I can almost hear him say, I told you it was a bad idea.

Not for the first time, he’s right.

I trap a growl behind my clenched teeth, and a ripple of fury rolls through me. In an alternative universe, I execute everyone in this room, save for Matthias and Lucas, but it appears Rose has much more to offer than convenient information.

I stalk back to the table. The air warms, tension palpable, and the vein Doc always worries over throbs in my neck. I grip the back of the chair with too much force, feeling the wood groan as I take my seat again.

“And how the fuck do you know who’s in room four?”

Rose laughs, a twinkling sound that’s almost sinister. Then she sobers, her brows pulling into a furrow as she tilts her head. “Why would I reveal all of my secrets?”

The men beside her grin, chuckling between themselves.

“Do you believe me now, Mr. Keane?”

My upper lip curls in distaste. I won’t admit it aloud, but I recognize she must have a reputable source. It’s frustrating that she won’t reveal him, but part of me—a small, infinitesimal part—respects it.

“Fine. Assuming you know the identity of our guest in room four, and that your intel on Peter is true, then what’s in it for you?”

Rose curls her lips into an intimidating smile. “Like I said”—she sips from her wineglass and licks her painted lips—“Peter’s life is mine .” Her voice is a growl, her knuckles almost white against the glass.

It’s odd—the request. Rose doesn’t appear to be a bloodthirsty murderer. But I suppose I’ve seen worse come in much smaller packages. And as long as Peter is dead and his efforts thwarted, I don’t particularly care who wields the knife.

“How do I know you’ll keep a certain guest’s information private?”

Rose just shrugs. “I see no reason to make that my business. For now.”

Her threat hangs in the air. Don’t cross me, and I won’t cross you. It’ll have to do for now. Rose watches me carefully, and I see the moment her eyes widen with the realization I’m on board. Her smile turns rueful. She stands, extending a lithe arm across the table.

I rise and accept her terms. Unsurprisingly, her handshake is firm.

Once the tentative partnership is sealed, we dive into building a plan.

“Where are the women being held?” Lucas asks, not sharing the information Loren discovered on her ridiculous undercover mission at Abstrakt.

This time, it’s the man next to Rose who speaks—Jace, I think I heard someone call him. “They’re being held at the East Port, in two different shipping containers. They’ve amassed more women than originally planned for, but Peter won’t refuse his ambitious lackeys.”

Of course he wouldn’t.

“Which shipping company?” I ask, needing confirmation that Edwards hasn’t been plotting against me. It would be just my fucking luck that my first partnership as boss is one where I get double fucking crossed.

“Saint International.”

A sweet breath of relief escapes my chest, only to be replaced by the immediate rage that someone thought Roswell— my city —was open season.

“Do you have their shipment manifests?”

Rose nods, gesturing to the man on her right. He reaches below him and pulls out a folder, then lays out the registered routes for the next seven days.

“Have you identified which ones likely have the women on them?”

“Not yet,” Jace responds. “We have a program running that’s looking for discrepancies, but since they’ve flown under the radar, it’s unlikely we’ll have an answer soon. ”

“While it runs,” Rose interjects, “we need to devise a plan to stop the containers from leaving the port.”

I scrub a hand over my jaw and nod, my gaze flicking over the shipping manifests.

“Do you know where Peter’s staying now?” Matthias finally speaks up.

I look between him and Jace, who are busy sizing each other up.

“Yes, but from what we’ve gathered, not every lackey has turned in their women.

So, if we go straight to Peter’s motel, we risk spooking everyone and losing all those women.

And I refuse to lose another soul to Peter fucking Agapov.

” Rose’s voice rises in anger as she spits out each word. This sounds personal.

“So, we’ll find out which shipping containers the women are being held in, rush it with manpower on Thursday night, kill any Disciples, and then hand his head on a platter to you? Do I have that right?”

The silence ticks on as Luc’s question lingers. Rose nods.

“What’s stopping them from changing the shipment date to Thursday? Or even sooner?”

It’s valid, Matthias’s question. Compounding anger and a thirst for justice for Loren’s best friend sparks in my chest. Yet another innocent harmed because of her connection to me. The familiar feeling burrows deep, and my fists itch to cave someone’s face in.

“Peter won’t lose this chance, not when he’s so close to the final deposit that will secure his father’s approval. He’s aiming for the biggest payday, and that means giving his men time to deliver the most women they can. They won’t leave early.”

As she speaks, I nod along, the answer making sense. This is Peter’s big break, and he won’t risk the best payday he’ll ever see .

“Thursday, then.” My voice is low, rumbling across the table in a growl. “Until then, we find out which containers they’re in. Thursday, we surround them and crush Peter and his fucking Disciples.”

The table is quiet, then each person nods.

“And if we can’t find the right containers in time?” Jace asks.

My gaze slices to Rose, who looks back at me with the same fierce determination shining behind her green eyes.

“Then we’ll chase them across the ocean.”

Rose curls her lips into a frightening smile, unblinking as we come to agreement. I take my first impression back; she’s more bloodthirsty than most.

I stand, and Matthias and Luc join me. “We’ll be in touch, then.”

“So we shall,” Rose replies.

Our exit is swift. Luc hops into the driver’s seat and starts for home. But the thoughts still swirl around, and I realize I need more information.

“Luc.” He meets my gaze in the rearview mirror. “We need to stop by Abstrakt.”

Lucas nods and sets off for the club. I settle into my seat, loosening my tie and running my hands through my hair with a groan as the city blurs past us.

If someone wants Roswell— my city—they’re going to have to try a hell of a lot harder.