“Syn, calm down.”

The pen in Synek’s grip snapped, ink spilling all over the back of his hand and dripping onto the desk. He heard Winter, even felt her restraining hand on his shoulder, but it wouldn’t matter in the end if he wanted to hurt someone.

And right now, there was only one person he was tempted to commit violence against—she just happened to be the only woman they were forbidden to harm.

“The Jackal isn’t here to save her this time,” he mused aloud, already picturing how easy it would be to get into the room below and snap her neck. It wouldn’t be any trouble at all really.

He wouldn’t even mind the challenge of it.

And no one who knew what was good for them would stand in his way.

“Your girl’s handling it,” Winter said, dropping down into the seat next to him, kicking her booted feet up onto the desk to block his view of the monitor. “There’s no need for you to overreact if she’s not upset.”

Even though that was the last thing Synek wanted to hear, he knew it was true. Iris was handling the news of Belladonna being the one to have locked her father away very well, but he also saw what she tried to hide.

The way her eyes had subtly widened, her throat working as she swallowed. The way she tried to quickly mask that flash of pain in her eyes as she glanced down at the floor under her feet.

He saw what others didn’t.

And seeing that pain on her face and knowing he couldn’t do anything about it—yet—only annoyed him more.

“What’s with you lot? I’d shoot her in the fucking face and call it a day.”

For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why the Kingmaker even bothered to keep the woman who seemed intent on ruining him alive. As far as he could see, they were hell-bent on destroying each other and didn’t care who they took down with them.

He understood that whatever this was, it was between the Kingmaker and the woman currently housed in the cell below.

But that wasn’t enough to make him now want to wring her neck for what she had done to Iris.

“If you’re ready?” the Kingmaker called as he entered the room, his gaze straying from Synek to the screens he was watching.

As Synek only had eyes for Iris, the Kingmaker focused on the other woman, wearing an unreadable expression on his face.

“Ready for what exactly?”

“I assumed you would want to be in the room with Spader.”

If only to make sure that nothing happened to the ex-governor in the interim. He was reluctant to leave his station, wanting to hear more of what Belladonna was saying—wanting to be available should Iris need him—but he also knew the ex-governor couldn’t wait.

And whether he posed it like a question or not, the Kingmaker wasn’t asking him to come along for the interrogation.

It was a demand.

Synek was already not liking this.

* * *

“Why?” Iris asked, her voice tight and controlled.

She tried her hardest not to react, not to lash out and hurt the woman across from her as much as her words hurt her. She didn’t understand how someone could sound so calm about ruining someone else’s life.

“What the hell did my father ever do to you?”

“You misunderstand. He never crossed me in any way. Unfortunately, he was getting too close to a particular business deal a client of mine was conducting at the time. My former associate and Spader wanted to just kill him and be done with it.”

Now, it was Iris’s turn to be confused, trying to make sense of everything she was saying and everything she wasn’t. “So ... what? You spared him.”

A brief flash of genuine sorrow crossed Belladonna’s face before the expression was gone again. “There is no greater bond than the one between a parent and child. So, no, I made it perfectly clear that your father was not to be killed, but the only way to prevent him from getting any closer was to incarcerate him.”

Iris didn’t know what to think of that.

On one hand, if she had to choose between prison and death, she would have definitely chosen the former, but neither option was particularly a good one.

“You make it sound as if you had no choice. You could have sent him—sent us—away. If you’re supposed to be the female version of the Kingmaker, they would have listened to you.”

Her expression lightened entirely as she laughed. “Is that what you think of me? I like to think I’m better than he is, truly.”

“I grew up without a father,” Iris said without any inflection. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re one and the same.”

If the remark offended the woman in white, she didn’t let it show. Instead, she glanced down at the rose gold watch on her wrist.

“Somewhere you need to be?”

“Not particularly.” Her gaze shifted back to her. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Considering the woman was sitting in a cell in one of the most secure buildings Iris had ever stepped foot inside, she doubted that. “Then why?”

“Because I quite imagine that you would like to be there when they interrogate Spader, wouldn’t you?”

Iris glanced up at the camera in the corner of the room. “How the hell could you possibly know that Spader is being interrogated?”

“Years ago, when things were different, Uilleam taught me how to play chess. It’s never about how many pawns you can capture or taking as many of the opponent’s pieces as you can—it’s strategy.”

“So what does that mean?”

“He sees the world as his own personal chessboard. Everyone has a role to play in his eyes, even you. When he taught me to play, he taught me how to read him. Which means the only move he can make right now besides having you talk to me is to interrogate the ex-governor. His mercenary is counting on it.”

Grimm.

Iris stood, but before she turned toward the elevators, she looked back at Belladonna who was still sitting just as she was, serene expression and all.

“If we’re all chess pieces, what does that make you?”

One perfectly arched brow lifted even as her smile grew a touch more genuine. “The white queen.”

* * *

Inside the mansion, sweat beaded on the man’s brow, his eyes darting from left to right once they had him cornered, but after his ride with Belladonna in the back of the van, Michael Spader had recovered some of his arrogance.

His eyes betrayed nothing as Synek and the Kingmaker entered the room. Synek found his favorite corner to stand in where he had an overview of the entire room, including the men in it, the door, and the camera above.

But he would break. All men who entered this room in cuffs did.

For now, he sat with his shoulders back and one leg crossed over the next. The pose might have appeared more casual had his hands not been zip-tied still.

His gaze turned to Synek, anger flashing as he lifted his bound hands. Synek smiled in return.

“Care to remove these?”

“Not really, mate, no.”

His frown became even more prominent.

He probably wasn’t used to doing business with men like him who lacked the posh and proper accent that he deemed appropriate. Synek was an East Ender through and through, and his voice reflected that.

Finally, and with great effort, Spader’s gaze turned to the Kingmaker, his expression a modicum less smug. Brute force didn’t intimidate him. In his eyes, he and the Kingmaker were on the same level—gentlemen, for lack of a better word.

But men like him didn’t know any better. They didn’t understand that if they had to deal with Synek—and it wasn’t a kill order—they would leave this place, a little worse for wear, but with everything intact.

The Kingmaker liked to destroy lives. He threaded himself into every part of their existence until he had control over it, and piece by piece, he tore it apart until nothing remained. And only then, when there was only dust, would he make an offer the other person couldn’t refuse.

Synek could only imagine what he had planned for the governor—especially with the man’s involvement in Grimm’s disappearance—but whatever it was, the man would have been better off dealing with him.

But no … in the next second, he realized he had been wrong. The arrogance hadn’t faded simply because he was now faced with the Kingmaker; it dwindled because a mischievous smile was making its way across his face.

“The infamous Kingmaker. And to think I thought I made it perfectly clear that I wouldn’t be doing business with the likes of you.”

Synek already knew this wasn’t going to end well for him. He hadn’t realized in all his research on the man that he could be as brazen as he was to someone he feared. Which didn’t make sense, considering he’d been ready to shit his trousers at the very sight of them.

What changed?

“Don’t worry yourself, Governor. Or should I say Ex-governor? I have no interest in offering you a deal,” the Kingmaker said smoothly, the composure he was notoriously known for carefully washing over him. “You see, I’ve run all out of patience. Unfortunately for you.”

Spader didn’t seem to hear a word he was saying as he studied the Kingmaker, and from the look on his face, he wasn’t very impressed by what he saw. “I thought you’d be older.”

The Kingmaker smiled. “Why don’t you tell me what you were doing with the woman in white.”

“Or?”

“No or. Speak.”

“How about you answer a question of mine,” Spader said, tapping his thumb against his leg. “Tell me what it felt like to get shot. I haven’t had the pleasure.”

The man was taunting him with a little smile on his face as if he knew exactly how those words would affect him.

“Syn.”

One word.

One name.

An order left unspoken.

Synek only needed the excuse.

He watched awareness creep into the ex-governor’s eyes as he followed his approach across the room and closed the distance between them.

He wasn’t thinking about the Kingmaker or any official orders as he launched his fist into the man’s side. He wasn’t thinking about the Den and how important he was to the cause at hand.

Synek was careful, though, not to strike his face. It was imperative that he didn’t leave any bruises that would be immediately visible.

Synek only saw Iris in his mind.

Remembered the pain she had suffered at his hands. He remembered her tears, the way she walked out of the prison after seeing her father, and how just the sight of them twisted him up.

He didn’t remember how many punches he threw, but it was only after a feeble plea fell from his mouth that Synek backed off, shaking his hands at the residual pain.

“Perhaps you need some time to think over your answer?” the Kingmaker asked with a knowing arch of his brow. “I’ll leave you to it.”

They left him there, bleeding and panting, leaving the room as quickly as they had entered it. Synek was tempted to go back in simply because punching the man made him feel better.

“I’ll give him a few hours to think over his answer, and if he doesn’t give me anything credible”—the Kingmaker shrugged as if whatever the man said wouldn’t matter in the end—“you can shoot him.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Synek said, his voice tight, one-hundred-percent earnestness in his voice. “He can’t die.”

Not yet.

Whatever happened after Synek got what he needed from him was not his fucking business, but for the time being, the ex-governor had to live.

“You’re speaking, though I didn’t ask for an opinion on the matter.”

“Which part didn’t you hear, mate, ’cause I’m quite glad to repeat myself if need be. He doesn’t fucking die, do you get me?”

“Syn?”

He turned at the sound of Iris’s voice, not expecting to find her down here, but his fear that they’d been overheard diminished as he saw the look of concern on her face.

“We all have jobs to do here, Synek,” the Kingmaker said before turning and walking down the hall, leaving them alone. “I suggest you remember what yours is.”

* * *

Usually, Synek’s blistering hot showers were relegated to the days when he needed to calm down and give himself a chance to think clearly when he couldn’t otherwise.

Tonight, though, it wasn’t working.

No matter how long he lingered under that water, water raining down over his shoulders and back, he was just as troubled as he had been before he ever stepped foot inside the shower stall.

And with his current state, he didn’t think that would be changing anytime soon.

Exhaling, he shoved damp strands of hair out of his face. Turning to step out, he looked up in surprise when the door opened, though he already had an idea who it would be.

While he hadn’t been in the shower for longer than a few minutes, he had been troubled long before now, and even with his best attempts to hide it, Iris would have noticed.

He could see her blurred outline through the frosted glass and watched as she stripped out of her own clothes piece by piece until the only thing left between them was a layer of glass he could break easily with one punch.

But he kept the impulse in check, taking a step back farther into the water as the door slid open, and Iris finally joined him.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Not the gentle swell of her breasts, or the flare of her hips, or the way she stared at him as if she was … waiting.

Beautiful women were plentiful in his world, but none of them grabbed his attention the way she did. None made him want to risk it all.

“Looking for me?” he asked, repeating a question he had once asked before.

She smiled, probably remembering that day as well, but she still didn’t confess the truth. Yet.

He was already thinking of ways to get her to do so.

“Always,” she answered before stepping into the shower.

He reached behind him to turn down the heat, but she caught his hand before he could. A brief but sharp inhalation the only indication she gave that the water was too hot.

“Iris—”

“It’s part of your process. I get that. Believe me, I’ve had worse.” She was careful this time when she stepped toward him not to flinch as she ran her hands down his chest. “What’s bothering you?”

He wished he had an answer for her, some simple explanation that would explain where his head was at, but there had never been anything simple about what was happening. From the very beginning, he had always done one job—the only thing he could say he was actually good at—but while that was what the Kingmaker needed, it wasn’t what she needed.

On his side of the law, it didn’t matter how confessions were obtained, as long as they were gotten, but for what she wanted … Spader couldn’t look as if a confession had been tortured out of him. No one would believe it.

Never mind the fact that the Kingmaker would never let that happen.

The man was too close to them now. He wasn’t willing to risk the exposure.

“I could have him out in a matter of hours,” he said, brushing a droplet of water from beneath her eye, feeling the weight of her stare on him. “They wouldn’t know he was gone until we had him on a plane out of the country.”

Sing Sing was easy enough breaking into—Celt had done it just for sport a time or two—and if he employed the others and even the Wild Bunch to assist, there was a chance her father’s absence wouldn’t be noticed for a good twenty-four hours.

“No,” she said, voicing the answer he knew she would give. “If we break him out, he’ll have to run, we’ll have to run, and it would never stop. After my father spent years apprehending fugitives, I couldn’t make him into one. Spader took everything from him. I won’t let him have this too.”

Synek closed his eyes as he tilted his head back, letting the water rain down on his face to conceal the expression he didn’t want her to see. This wasn’t a complication he enjoyed.

“It doesn’t have to be right now,” Iris said, her voice softening as if she knew something was wrong even if she didn’t know what exactly. “Not today or tomorrow or the next day. However long it takes. I trust—”

He kissed her. Not just because he wanted to but because he didn’t want her to finish. There was no doubt in his mind that she trusted him—he’d given her every reason to. The Wraiths and Rosalie, in particular, had fed her stories about him—about the things he had done and the impossible jobs he had taken.

And that was before they had finally crossed paths and he made promises he hoped he could keep. So for now, he welcomed the distraction.

He kissed her to quiet his thoughts—to calm the storm brewing.

She didn’t seem to mind.

Her fingers slid down his abdomen before wrapping around his cock and stroking him slowly. A shuddering exhale left him, his need clawing up his spine, but he didn’t give in to it yet.

Instead, he focused on her—getting his hand between her legs, then sucking a damp nipple into his mouth, giving just a hint of his teeth to make her hips arch forward and her pussy clamp down around the fingers he had inside her.

Another time, he might have gotten her off just like this—his fingers inside her, her head tilted back, and his mouth locked around the beaded point of her nipple—but he pulled free of her instead, ignoring the confusion and her questioning gaze.

He pressed her back against the stone wall of the shower, gripping the back of her knee and lifting her leg up and out so he could get between them.

Their mouths came together a moment later. His punishing and hers accepting—the only conundrum he needed.

He gripped his dick in one hand, not thinking about anything other than getting inside her. He was nearly mindless at the thought.

“Please,” she begged, the black of her pupils nearly swallowing the brown. Her nails dug into his shoulder, that blissful agony making his dick throb.

Iris said his name, or tried to, but as he drenched his cock in her wetness and slowly started working the head inside her, she was incapable of speech.

Fuck if he didn’t understand exactly why.

It felt as if he was being robbed of oxygen, as if every bodily function had frozen while he was easing inside her.

He wasn’t even halfway inside her, and it already felt like his control was fraying at the edges.

Gentle had been his plan when he first kissed her—to take her slowly and intimately. To treat her like she was the most precious fucking thing in the world because that was what she was to him.

But it took four words to make him snap. Four words for him to give up any pretense of being a better man.

Iris dug her nails into his back as her heel pressed into his back to draw him deeper.

“Fuck me, Syn. Please.”

As soon as those words penetrated, he gave himself over to it. He snapped his hips forward without warning, plunging in deep, her rippling pussy dragging a guttural groan from him.

He couldn’t give her sweet and romantic or slow and tender, but he could fuck her hard enough that neither of them would remember their names in the morning.

He could make her scream and beg and moan all the while he fucked her up against the wall. His face buried in her throat as he licked the water off her skin, but it wasn’t enough to completely silence the thoughts in his head.

Because she wasn’t just there physically. She was in his thoughts, so finely in tune with him that he didn’t know where he would be without her.