The Trade Read online

  I have been here, in this magnificent London townhome for the past six years. I do not own it. I simply live here, working for the man whom holds all the power.

  Kristof Adame is many things, the most pertinent being the leader of Clan Adame. He is the Romanian mob leader who oversees operations in the U.K. As of late his health has been deteriorating more and more. He refuses to discuss his ailment with any of us, but we aren’t blind. We can all see that whatever this is, it is slowly killing him. And if I was a betting man, I’d say that he doesn’t have too much longer.

  “Domn wants to see you,” I hear one of my close friends, James, call out from behind me. He’s informed me that Kristof is requesting my presence. I continue to stand overlooking the streets, watching as the passersby continue to go about their daily lives. Sometimes I stand up here and wonder what exactly it is that they’re doing, where they are headed, the possibilities are endless.

  “His need is an urgent one,” James tells me, sounding oh so serious.

  There are times to take our jobs seriously, in fact, most days we do. However, I do not believe being summoned by Kristof is a life or death matter. It would be different if certain circumstances had arisen, but I know they did not. I would be the first to know. In a way, I am like Kristof’s right hand man. When he needs someone to do his bidding, he doesn’t send an inexperienced chump. He sends the man he know will complete the task at hand, regardless of what he asks.

  He sends me.

  I make sure that my expression remains unreadable as I turn from the window and head down the two flights of stairs where I know Kristof will be waiting. These days, he is almost always in his study. Before he didn’t used to work so much, and now I wonder if he is constantly working because he knows that he has an expiration date.

  “Duncan.” He says my name coolly, rasping, I can hear him struggling to maintain his strong tone.

  “Domn,” I greet him, calling him Sir in our native tongue. I take a few steps further into the room, glancing around as I know to do. He hates it when our eyes are on him, when only a few short months ago he was running three miles every day at the park.

  “I need you to do something for me,” Kristof coughs through his words, turning to look at me, dead in the eyes. “This is not something I take lightly, and you should not either.”

  I nod, knowing he is expecting a reaction out of me.

  “You know I have one remaining daughter, yes?”

  I nod again, only hearing a few rumors about Kristof’s remaining heiress. From what others have told me, Kristof had an affair with a pretty well-known singer. Their affair resulted in the birth of his daughter, a daughter that he had out of wedlock, with a woman who was not Romanian. He had three other children, two sons and a daughter, who have all been killed in mob related activities. “What is it you need me to do?” I can expect many things from him, but what comes from his mouth is not what I expect at all.

  “I need you to find Willow and protect her. It has been evident that there are those who are after my life, considering the fact her brothers and sister have all been killed so recently makes me question her safety. I know she wants nothing to do with me, or this life. At this point it isn’t up to her anymore. You need to find her and guard her like I expect of you. Duncan, you will stay alongside her as long as I tell you to. There is a time where I will need her brought back here…that will not be for a few months. I am not going to bother the King or Queen with my disease until it is necessary, so I ask you do you understand?”

  “I will protect her with my own life,” I say, hoping that he understands my seriousness.

  This is no joking matter. Kristof could have sent one of his other men, I am the best, however I know the men I have helped train. They are all good at their job. Kristof making the decision to send me instead of one of the others tells me that this is much more serious than I thought.

  My assumptions are accurate. The old man is dying, and something tells me that he doesn’t just have me there to keep an eye over his little heiress. No, there is far much more to the story.