Reed

___________________

My father, as usual, is late.

I sink into one of the leather chairs in the GSS boardroom, fingers pressed to my temples as the rest of his handpicked loyalists file in one by one. Five of them, handpicked for their unflinching loyalty to Gold Standard Security—LA's top bodyguard firm and the front for my father's multi-million-dollar scam operation.

They take their seats without so much as a glance in my direction, their loyalty reserved for him. I won't hold it against them. Most of them were drowning before he found them, suffocating under debt and addiction until he threw them a rope. That's how he works. He feeds on desperation, and only desperation can drive a man to such extremes, to want to risk his own life to save it. 

I would know.

When this company's finally mine, I'll decide whether they've earned leniency for how they've treated me. For now, I'm content with letting them believe that I'm just the womanizing heir happy to sit on the sidelines while my father pulls the strings. They'll find out the truth soon enough. 

My mind drifts back to last night's run-in with Ms. Torrence. After weeks of chasing her down, it was satisfying to finally see her in person. The first thing I noticed was her hair. It was black, thick, and so long it swayed around her waist every time she moved. Then came her eyes. Blue, piercing, framed by black lashes that fluttered with irritation the moment I leaned too close.

A smirk tugs at my lips despite myself. I'd underestimated her. I thought I could lie and charm my way into her good graces, but I was wrong. Unlike most people, Adrianna didn't just see through my bullshit, she called me out on it, forcing me to tell the truth.

Meeting her again this afternoon has me on edge. She's always been a risk. I knew that going in. But she's the key to this plan working. Because Adrianna Torrence—fearless, relentless—is the only person who can help take my father down. 

My father strides in, looking uncharacteristically unkempt. His usually tidy hair is disheveled, and the top button of his shirt is undone. A flicker of satisfaction rolls through me at the thought that this mess might actually be causing him trouble. But the moment is short-lived. Because right behind him, Charles Dusk follows.

My fingers twitch against the polished table. It was an unfortunate coincidence that he chose to threaten Adrianna last night, one I won't deny I turned to my advantage. But that doesn't mean that when the moment arises, I won't make him pay for it. His gaze follows mine as he walks past, challenging me. One day, I'll make sure he regrets ever stepping foot in this building.

My father doesn't waste time on pleasantries. He heads straight for the minibar, pours himself a scotch, and takes a slow sip before turning to the table. "Now that we're all here," he says calmly, "can someone tell me why, after a month, they still haven't fucking been found?"

Silence, but I don't miss the subtle glances. Bailey's jaw tightening, Jack clearing his throat. They're uneasy. They should be. My father's scam victim and the bodyguard who betrayed him should have been found weeks ago. With unlimited resources at his disposal, including enlisting billionaire Charles Dusk, there's really no excuse. Except that I've been sabotaging their efforts at every turn. And when the time is right, I'll take great pleasure in watching my father's face as he learns the truth.

I'm the one who helped them to escape in the first place.

"I was under the impression my money was being put to good use," Dusk drawls, leaning back in his chair with the kind of arrogance that makes my fingers twitch. I barely know the man—he's a recent addition to my father's operation—but I know enough to know I can't stand him, and if that Adrianna is on his radar, she'll need my protection, whether she likes it or not. "Perhaps," he muses, his gaze shifting from me to Carrera, "it's your incompetence slowing this operation down?"

If anyone else dared speak to me like that, I'd make sure it was the last thing they ever said.

Across the table, Carrera leans forward, resting his elbows on the polished surface, his wrinkled eyes flicking between Dusk and my father. "I believe we have a lead," he says slowly. "We got a tip-off that Evangeline Ryder was spotted by a fan in San Diego last night. My team is en route as we speak."

I loosen the top button of my shirt to try and try to let the air flow to my chest. This is news to me, but I'll deal with the fact they haven't kept me informed later. Right now, it's taking everything I have to remain as calm and composed as I am. 

"What's the ETA on your men?" my father asks.

"Thirty minutes."

The timeline drills into my head. I force myself to stay seated, though every instinct screams at me to move. The pair are the key to the story that will expose my father's corruption and give me the leverage I need to take what's rightfully mine. But only if they survive.

"You're sure?" I ask. Carrera's team was supposed to be in San Francisco, chasing a false lead I fed them. If this intel is accurate, then I'm already too late.

Jack, my father's irritating, baby-faced lapdog, smirks across the table. "Call came this morning. We tried to reach you, but your assistant said you were busy entertaining a friend."

My father turns to me slowly. "You expect me to trust you with this operation when you don't even know what's going on?"

I feel my jaw tick. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were questioning my capabilities." A mistake he's made before and one he'll regret soon enough.

Jack and Bailey exchange another smug look. I ignore them, keeping my focus where it matters.

"They escaped from the warehouse under your nose," my father continues, "and they're still out there. Clearly, finding them is beyond your capabilities."

I check my watch again. Twenty minutes. The plan is unraveling faster than I can adjust. "Gabe Loretto is a former bodyguard. He knows how we operate, which means he knows how to stay ahead. We need to reassess."

Jack sneers. "While Reed is busy strategizing, we'll keep you updated, Mr. Redwood."

My father doesn't say a word; he just watches me from across the table, his stare cold. I meet it head-on. Years of conditioning taught me never to flinch under the weight of his gaze or his fists. It only spurred him on.

It's a lesson my mother never learned. She'd cry, scream, beg, never realizing it only made him crueler. He fed on misery. And when I burn this company to the ground, I'll revel in his.

Finally, he speaks. "Get back to work. Keep me informed."

Chairs scrape against the floor as the others rise. I follow suit, keeping my pace even despite the urgency hammering through me. I need to get to my burner phone. A twenty-minute head start isn't much. But it's better than nothing.

"Reed." My father's voice stops me just as I reach the door. I turn, hand hovering over the handle. His eyes are cold, his lips curling into the same disdainful sneer I've seen all my life. "Screw up again, and you can forget seeing another penny from me."

My grip tightens on the handle. He wasn't always like this. Desperation and money change people. Turn them into monsters disguised as men.

"Noted," I say, then walk out without another glance.

Outside his office, everything runs as usual. A few bodyguards sit at their desks, scrolling through reports or talking on the phone. The rest are likely out in the field, stationed with their clients. On the surface, GSS looks like any other high-end security firm. Most of these men have no idea what they're really working for. And if my father has his way, they never will.

I step into the elevator, ignoring the side-eyes from those who know exactly who I am and envy me for it. I've heard the whispers. Daniel Redwood's lazy son. Thinks he's a bodyguard but never takes an assignment. I scowl as the doors slide shut, blocking them out. They have no idea.

The second I slide into the waiting car and shut the door, I yank out my phone. My fingers fly over the keypad, punching in the warning code before hitting send. My heart pounds against my ribs as I watch the screen, waiting.

One minute.

Two.

My mind spirals. I picture Carrera's team storming into Gabe and Eva's hideout, guns drawn, shouts drowning beneath the static roar in my head. Carrera never hesitates. If he finds them, they won't get a chance to surrender. And that means I will have risked everything for nothing. No witnesses. No story. Just another failed attempt at defying him.

Fucking answer.

My teeth clench, knuckles turning white as I grip the phone tighter. Everything hinges on Gabe outsmarting Carrera long enough to keep them both alive.

The phone buzzes. I fumble with the lock screen, pulse hammering.

Left San Diego last night. A step ahead of you, Redwood.

Relief hits, sharp and fleeting.

I told you to lay low.

He knows as well as I do that my father won't stop. He'll hunt them down until there's nothing left to find. We're running out of time.

As the car weaves through LA's congested streets, I go over the plan. On paper, it's simple: use Adrianna Torrence to expose my father's empire for what it really is—a web of corruption built on exploiting celebrities. With her credibility and reach, the fallout will be impossible to ignore. Unless, of course, he cooperates.

That's the beauty of blackmail. My father won't risk public exposure, not when it could cost him everything. He's dangled my trust fund and company stocks over my head for years. Now they're my price for silence. Hand them over, and I'll kill Adrianna's story before it ever sees the light of day.

If he refuses? I'll burn it all down. He deserves no less for what he's done. To me. To my mother. Adrianna is a risk, but one I'm willing to take.

Speaking of which. I scroll to Adrianna's name and, knowing there's no room for error, send explicit instructions: leave her phone, watch, and anything else traceable behind. With Dusk on my father's payroll, caution isn't optional.

Seconds later, my phone rings. I smirk as I lift it to my ear. "Ms. Torrence. I hope you're not calling to cancel on me."

"I'm calling to tell you your rules are ridiculous." No pleasantries or small talk, just straight to the point. It's one of the things I admire about her. "I'm a journalist. You can't seriously expect me to show up without my phone. Hell, you're lucky I'm showing up at all."

I can practically picture her now, pacing her office, free hand gesturing in frustration. "Those are the terms, Adrianna. It's for your safety."

Her silence suggests she's rethinking our date. She's stubborn, but so am I, and neither of us is willing to bend. "I want your word," she finally says, "that if I meet you today, you'll leave me alone afterwards. No more stalking me."

My jaw twitches with impatience. "I can assure you, Adrianna, I've never needed to stalk a woman. Tell me your drink of choice. I'll have it ordered before you arrive."

"So that's what this little lunch date is about?" she says. "Your chance to impress me? If so, you're wasting your time. You're not my type."

Her defiance is as entertaining as it is infuriating. I close my eyes briefly, picturing her at her desk, cheeks flushed, fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest as she glares at her phone.

"This lunch date," I murmur, letting just a hint of challenge slip into my tone, "is your chance to impress me, Adrianna."

"Impress you?" she scoffs. "Why don't I wear my tightest dress and give you a lap dance while I'm at it?"

The image flashes through my mind. Her straddling me, skin flushed, lips parted just so. Heat coils low in my stomach before I shove the thought aside, forcing myself to stay focused. "I was referring to your credentials," I say, dropping my voice, "but I'd be open to discussing your proposal."

The line goes dead. I lean back in my seat, still reeling from the exchange. She's not just infuriatingly brazen. She's unpredictable, and that unsettles me more than I care to admit. If I had another option, I'd choose a reporter easier to control. But control isn't what I need. I need someone fearless, relentless, and whose sense of justice outweighs caution. Someone my father won't see coming.

Sometimes, it takes a pawn to bring down a king.