Page 21 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

Riley answers honestly. ‘Information, smuggling, money laundering. Bribery when necessary. Blackmail when useful. Asset recovery, debt collection, counterintelligence.’

‘Drugs?’

‘Oversight only.’

‘Weapons?’

‘Supply and demand.’

‘Suits?’

‘Several.’

Lachlan lets out a short laugh, and his focus on Riley is briefly absolute and not in a good way. ‘You’re just as corrupt as your daddy, but worse because you masquerade as someone halfway decent.’

‘Iron Star enforces the Varrow Accords.’

‘Yeah, and how do you enforce your precious Accords?’

‘By knowing the difference between rule and control.’ That seems to catch Lachlan off guard. He goes still, a small line between his eyes marking the start of a frown. ‘Violence is the difference,’ Riley informs him. ‘I would have thought you’d know that by now, Bodyguard.’

‘Don’t call me that.’

‘I’ll call you whatever I like.’

Kade joins in because he can’t stand their bickering.

‘We regulate the other outfits that would tear each other apart, keeping the city stable in the process. The Accords are important. Riley built them. He forged the alliances.’

Lachlan isn’t impressed, far from it.

‘Crime rates are still sky-high, and your precious building gets attacked frequently. You’re nothing but a pretty-boy warlord in a high tower.’

Riley is glacially untouched. ‘You think I’m pretty?’

‘Fuck you and your amateur-hour bullshit, Harker. You’re a coward. You kept him all these years. You lied to him. You made him think he had a fucking disorder when it was you weaponising my invention to stop him from physically leaving. Do you know how sick that is?’

‘Riley could have ransomed me to Penhalyx for a fortune,’ Kade points out. ‘He could have sold me or traded me, and he never did. He reinforced this place to protect me. All of this is to keep me safe and hid—’

A sudden stab of vicious pain lands inside his body once more, causing both Riley and Kade to react in almost perfect synchronisation, wincing.

‘What’s wrong?’ Lachlan asks gently, concern blossoming instantly.

‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ Kade lies.

Lachlan makes a thoughtful sound. ‘You’re not eating much.’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘You want French toast?’

‘This is fine, and I’m not even—’

‘Can you get them to make French toast?’ Lachlan asks Riley as if he’s a waiter. ‘I’d actually love some too.’

Riley’s lip curls. ‘Are you fucking serious?’

‘Very,’ Lachlan says, wiping his mouth, not remotely self-conscious when he looks back and pushes his empty plate aside. ‘Steak instead of bacon this time. Rare would be awesome.’