Ghosted (Team Zero #3) by Rina Kent

I’m mulling it over when Shadow comes running, a scowl on his face.

My shoulders strain. I know, I just know, that there are bad news. “What is it?”

“Kyle’s been shot.”





Chapter Nineteen





The air ripples with gloomy energy in Le Salon. One wrong move and bullets will fly.

My movements are careful as I sidestep a few tense guards. Even the girls who usually hang out with them before the opening hours are nowhere to be seen.

This level of alertness is similar to last night. Only now, it’s more suffocating.

My chest tightens, and I clasp my hands together. Have President Joe and Johnny returned? Will I be handed over now?

No.

Julian won’t allow it. No idea why I have this much faith in him. It’s wrong to trust a bloody mobster. But after the night and morning we spent together – all that passion and affection and intimacy – I can’t ignore the electricity between us anymore. When he said I’m his, I believed it. My body hums and is still sore from the feeling of him inside me.

I come to a screeching halt near the middle of the stairs and clutch the barrister for balance.

I trust him.

For the first time in my life, I’m trusting another human being with my fate.

It scares the living shit out of me.

I quicken my pace up the stairs. My goal is to find Zoe, and I need that footage. I might trust Julian, but I don’t trust Mist or that shady Ghost who disappeared without a trace.

Julian might care, but those around him sure as hell don’t. Evidence? Mist sent me to my potential killer and didn’t even apologise for it. She and Ghost might try to get rid of me for their mob interests. So I have to do as I promised Liam; find the footage and leave.

A black hole eats my heart at the thought of leaving Julian, or him thinking I betrayed him. I might be in his good graces now, but I realise more than anyone how scary he can be.

The memory of Julian’s robotic look shoots a shudder through my body. I don’t want to meet that ruthless side of him.

Once I find Zoe, I will tell him everything.

I hope he will forgive me.

For a stupid reason, I don’t want him mad at me.

I stop near the doorframe of the control room and peek through the ajar opening.

Kyle is nowhere to be found. Instead, there are a dozen guards sitting in front of the desktops and checking all the footage as if searching for something. The smell of smoke and beer wafts through the air.

No way will I get my hand on any footage with all of them inside.

Two guards, Vladimir and Nick, are supervising. They’re the closest to Kyle. I heard Vladimir talk with Kyle about going with him to New York. To the Russian mafia there.

Shudders.

“Fucken hell,” Nick mutters. “There’s nothin’ in here. Why we’re lookin’, anyway? Kyle’s been shot outside our turf. We need a war if ye ask me.”

My heart almost stops beating. Kyle’s been shot? He’s alive... right?

I glue myself to the doorframe.

Vladimir lights a smoke and rakes tense fingers through his white-blond hair. When he speaks, it’s in a thick Russian accent, “Shut up. Ghost ordered us to look, so we look. That’s it.”

“Ghost needs to teach that cunt President Joe a lesson is all I’m sayin’”. Nick continues. “’twas a shot to the back. Ye think it could be the traitor?”

A puff of smoke comes from Vladimir’s lips and fills my nostrils with nicotine. “Mind your own business and do your job.”

Footsteps sound from behind me. I pretend to go on my way without looking back. If they catch me eavesdropping, I’m finished. The newcomer guard catches in my peripheral vision. He’s the one who allowed me on the meeting floor last night. Only today, I can feel him narrowing his eyes on my back. He goes into the control room and the door shuts behind him.

Theories and pieces of information fill my mind as I walk down the hall. Most of all, my heart is tightening about the possibility of Kyle’s wound being fatal.

I didn’t even realise that I liked the bloke so much, but I do. Kyle and Scar are the only warm people around here – aside from Julian.

The circumstances of what happened to him are weird. Kyle’s been shot in the back one night after President Joe and Johnny’s visit. And there’s been talk of a traitor and war amongst the guards. Kyle was smiling at us only yesterday, and now he could be battling death.

Is he perhaps... dead?

My heart thunders as I run to Scar’s room. She’d tell me if Kyle is fine.

I barge into the room and freeze. Considering her bond with Kyle, I expected to find Scar in chaos. Instead, she’s sitting cross-legged on the bed. No Oasis music blasts in the room. Vanilla scent drifts from five lit candles circling her. Her eyes are closed, expression serene, and hair gathered in a messy bun at the top of her head. She’s wearing pastel green shorts and a T-shirt on which is written, ‘Not a Battle. A Fucking War.’

My mouth hangs open. Is she meditating right now?

I crouch in front of her and find a bottle of sleeping pills. Since when did she start taking them? “Scar!”

When she remains in her zone, I shake her shoulder. “Scarlett!”

“Don’t call me that,” she hisses.

Her eyes snap open, and they’re... dead. Completely and utterly dead. No spark of the Scar I know. No ounce of the friendly, enthusiastic albeit weird Scar that made my stay here a lot more tolerable. The dead amber irises are terrifyingly haunting.