All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without my permission.
Fiction
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Moral rights
Meg Merrilies (pen name) asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
External content
Meg Merrilies (pen name) has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.
Designations
Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.
The Enigma sighed and began to speak. The shadows seemed to ripple in the cigar-smoke-filled room. "The Counters have infiltrated key positions within the city's power structure. Be wary of those in high places. Their loyalties may be compromised."
Artemisia exchanged a glance with Nis, a silent understanding passing between them.
"And how do our paths intersect?" I inquired.
The Enigma's voice took on a more straightforward tone. "Artemisia, your former associates hold crucial information about their plans. Nis, your network runs deep, but not everyone in your circle can be trusted."
Artemisia's expression tightened. "What about our new alliance, formed in the face of a common adversary?"
The Enigma nodded. "A pragmatic alliance born from necessity. To navigate this web, you must understand trust is a fleeting currency. Secrets are the threads that bind. Betrayal is a blade that cuts deepest."
As the Enigma spoke, the weight of the impending conflict settled over us. "The influence extends well beyond what you've brought to light. Uncover and expose alliances; you may survive this dance of shadows."
With those words, the Enigma retreated, leaving Artemisia and me to contemplate the guidance we had been given. The alliances we chose would shape the city and the world in which we were entangled.
Although Enigma was renowned for sharing pointed information, often stumping our organization, I wondered where the intel originated.
Maybe Artemisia knew, but I wasn't about to threaten our tenuous alliance by questioning her resources and ways of doing things. I didn't know enough yet to make an informed decision.
I followed as she made her way out of the maze we'd entered and wondered if I'd somehow managed to be fooled by their facade. It would be a question I'd long consider even as she and I drove away.
***
I sank into the tub of an out-of-the-way motel, too numb to feel relief or grief. I didn't dare call home. The two-dollar bottle of bubble bath they'd left me to soak with left my skin feeling tight and dry—another zit on the complete ass of a day I'd had.
In less than 24 hours, I buried my father, became the head of a criminal organization, kidnapped a remarkable task force man, and managed to stop a turf war. For some, that would have been a good day. For me, it was akin to my particular version of hell.
What I wanted didn't even matter. I rubbed my fist, examining the knuckle that shifted when I'd cracked Nis in the jaw. A reminder that the delivery of pain was often met with more pain.
Home, my mind whispered. "Nis!" I cried out, sitting up excitedly. Crossing my arms in the nick of time, as he blasted through the doorway, I was sure I had locked. "Do you have your cell on you?"
"Yes?" Nis answered, his gaze locked on the top of the shower curtain. "Sorry, I thought-"
"Never mind." I waved his worry away, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Is it untraceable?"
"For the most part, it runs through several different networks of encryption because-"
"Yes, yes. I get it. Law enforcement. Please give it to me."
"No."
"I need to make a phone call."
"Are you dumb?" I half expected her to stand and wrestle me into the tub and hold my head under the water.
"No, but I'm beginning to think you are. I need to make a call, and I need to use your phone to do it."
Nis' gaze thundered, "You're not using my damn phone, woman."
"Fine, I'll just wait until you're asleep then."
"Lady, I'm used to staying up two days straight doing surveillance."
"And I'm used to sleeping with one eye open because my dad was a mobster murderer!"
Nis' eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch, his lips scrunching into an expression of capitulation. "You win. Why do you need to use my phone anyhow?"
"I need to call my children."
Nis did a double take. "The mob princess has a princess at home?"
"A prince and two princesses, actually, and if you ever call me a mafia princess again- I will end you."
I snorted, hardly able to contain my laughter.
Artemisia rolled her eyes. "Will you please just give me the phone?" She grabbed the phone, dangerously close to slipping under the suds at the motion.
"I'll dial the number. I don't want you calling in a hit on our location."
"You're just trying to get my phone number out of this deal, aren't you."
Nis' ears flamed red. "Oh, hell no. Mafia Mamas aren't my type."
Artemisia laughed and rattled off the number.
"Good to know. I'll make sure not to introduce you to any then."