We use the cleaner van to tow bodies. There’s only the driver’s and passenger’s seats inside, and the rest are gutted for easy cleaning. It will be perfect for hauling around a couple of enormous assholes.
“I don’t trust you not to get blood inside one of my babies, and your cars are too fucking small for four people,” Donovan says.
“Boo,” I pout, leading him to the van on the other side of the garage.
Tanner Vasquez owns the club Limbo, in DC. The dance club is his front and hosts an underground fight club beneath the building. The business passed from generation to generation.
The club is named Limbo because you live on top or die below. However, death in his ring isn’t something Tanner puts up with.
The Vasquez family upholds rules that set their business apart from others. Tanner has his own fighters and keeps them trained and lethal. People come in from the streets to fight, or criminal organizations try to demonstrate their power by bringing in powerful fighters to take on Tanner’s.
Criminals sometimes gather for business deals, using Limbo as neutral territory. Since the Hall twins have been MIA since they caught wind of Dad closing in over a year ago, there has to be a reason they decided to show their faces now. I can’t help but wonder what they consider worth the risk of coming out of hiding.
“Have you figured out why Dad is protecting Brenner?” Donovan asks as we get on the highway.
“Have you?” I shoot back, then sigh. “With Tawny trying to sell me off like fucking cattle, amongst other things… We weren’t in a good place. There’s more to this than just some files.”
“I know,” Donovan agrees. “Since you mentioned you think he’s protecting Liam, I’ve noticed the holes in his story. He wanted me to lead this mission to prove I’m ready to take over.”
“He can handle shit against him like this with a snap of a finger. Poof. All gone.”
“When I came up with the plan at first, I assigned you to pursue Brenner… Liam,” Donovan stops and looks at me. I narrow my eyes, not realizing I’ve been talking about him by his first name now. He just chuckles before continuing, “but Dad didn’t want you that close to him. He placed a no-kill order and left me to figure out where to put the pieces.”
“Being at Brenner’s side instead would make it easier to protect,” I mumble, annoyed at the unnecessary drama I have to play in this bullshit love triangle.
Donovan shrugs. “If Brenner figured out who you were, Mal, and you were dating, he could easily kill you.”
I scoff. As much as I hate being protected, Dad will always find a way to do it without making it obvious. I zeroed in on the bit where they wanted to use my body to get what they needed, but it was just a ploy, and it kept me distracted.
It pisses me off I’m so transparent to him, but the man wouldn’t be where he is if it weren’t for his brain. He manipulated me and didn’t even have to say a word.
Sneaky bastard.
“That leaves the question of what or who he is protecting Brenner from,” I sigh.
“Confront him when the ball is over,” Donovan adds. “No sense in stirring shit up when we have a snake ready to strike. Just do us all a favor, yeah? Kill the bitch.”
I chuckle at my brother’s plea for our mother’s death.
“The control over her is so fucking sweet.” I look over at Donovan after pulling into the club’s parking lot, circling around to the closed-off underground garage. “Whoever they’re doing business with is fair game. Might as well make a game of it.”
A devious smile stretches across Donovan’s face. It’s been a while since he’s gotten his hands dirty, and I’m not leaving without spilling blood. I pull into a parking garage and follow it down to the service level. Donovan and I can easily get the bodies in the van this way.
Tanner assured me it would be clear of prying eyes, more for his benefit than ours.
The Vasquez family has worked closely with our dad since he was a boy. Dad would fight in this very club when Tanner’s father ran it. But, no matter the level we’re on personally, it’s always business first.
The loud bass booms from the upstairs club, echoing against the concrete walls. Two men stand outside a door and let Donovan and me through without questions. Tanner probably assigned them specifically to make sure everything goes smoothly.
When the door shuts behind us, the sounds from upstairs go silent. Chants and cheers are coming from the arena ahead of us.
Yeah, I said arena.
The Vasquez family carved out an enormous underground space for their illegal business. They set the place up like a goddamn professional boxing ring: private rooms for business, seating or standing areas, and VIP sections.
The closer we get to the chants, the more I can make out they repeat the name: “Sin.” One of Tanner’s guys. His legal name is Hayes Renton, but his ring name is Sin. And a fucking sin that man is, for sure.
Donovan and I weave through the hidden halls, passing guards and people who work for Tanner. Thankfully, we don’t pass many before reaching the door