Abi smirked at Peter when their gazes met.It seems your reputation is alive and well.
He’s definitely heard of me.
Abi chuckled.
Nash glanced his way with no small amount of concern. He probably wondered if Abi was certifiable.
Peter smiled in that fake way he did when he was around people who weren’t family. “Relax, Mr. Drake. We’re all friends here.”
Nash’s expression turned stoic.
“We’re a lot of things, but I wouldn’t call us friends.”
“Any friend of Jonik’s is a friend of mine.” Peter wasn’t giving up on Nash.
Peter’s game had started with Abi in the hall on the walk over. Nash was a player too, whether or not he liked it.
It didn’t sit right with Abi.
Peter glanced at him and smiled. Abi knew that look. It meant Peter knew something that Abi wouldn’t like. They already established what that was.
Abi rolled his eyes.
“Jonik is a Dragon Skull. That makes him family. You are not.” Nash not taking Peter’s bait was a surprise, and a pleasant one. It made him smarter than he seemed.
Peter’s smile was tight when he nodded, conceding the battle of wills. “I hope that will change in the future, Mr. Drake.”
Nash sighed. “You can start by calling me Nash.”
Nash had just extended a small olive branch to Peter. He might have given it with weariness, but it was still a step in the right direction.
Peter’s smile was genuine. “Shall we get started?”
Nash nodded. “Jonik briefed me on the job. I have to say, I don’t normally have a partner for these things, but in this case it’s needed.”
Peter handed Abi a folder. “Abi isn’t caught up on the details, so for that reason, I’ll go over it.”
Abi opened the folder to find a blueprint of a sporting arena. “This is for one of those underground slave fighting things, right?”
Abi had been on other missions where the primary objective included freeing as many slave fighters as possible. He’d never been to an arena as elaborate, though.
Abi’s usual assignments were preliminary. He’d gather intel, usually shifting into whatever creature he needed to stay undetected. But his job would be somewhat different this time.
“Your goal is to befriend this man.” Peter slid a picture across his desk. Abi took it. The man was in a sex dungeon, complete with a swing. The woman on the swing was strapped to it and gagged. Her face was streaked with tears, and it was clear someone had beaten her. She was naked. The person taking the photograph was at an angle, so all but the woman’s face couldn’t be seen.
The man in the photo was also naked. He had something around his dick. A cock ring, maybe.
Abi was no puritan, but his sexual encounters hadn’t led him into dungeons. He’d never even seen a sex swing in real life.
He wasn’t judging the dungeon part. It was the clear lack of consent that made Abi want to chop off the man’s dick right below that stupid thing around his cock.
The man was a little rotund. He’d passed middle age some time ago, and it showed in his sagging skin. But he smiled for the camera as if he were proud of himself.
Abi handed it to Nash, who took it with a curse, but he studied it the same way Abi had, memorizing every detail because that was their target. “When was the picture taken?”
“Twenty-two hours ago.”
“Michael Mallor.” Nash whispered his name.
