Kindred: Kingpin (The Kindred Series Book 1)

by MJ Morrigan

  “He’s not so bad,” Tara lies, “He’s a good boss, takes care of his employees when he actually remembers to,” she chuckles and there she’s somewhat telling the truth; she’s tried to look at him differently since Lillian’s revelation, has seen the way June interacts with the rest of his staff. There’s a reason they’re all so loyal to him.

  Soeun chuckles, “Thank you for being by his side,” she raises a hand to Tara’s face and brushes a lock of hair behind her ear, “I think I’m leaving him in capable hands.”

  “I’m a good cat mom,” Tara shrugs, “How hard can taking care of a grown man be?”

  Soeun openly laughs at that and Tara smiles at the sound, “I think cats are more self-sufficient.”

  They return to the men a few minutes later and both Lucas and June are looking at them with suspicious eyes, “It took you half an hour to pick out a few candles?” June asks skeptically.

  “Scented candles,” Tara corrects him and hands him a lemongrass scented one and Lucas a cinnamon scented candle, “Your mom picked these out for you both, for the office.”

  “Cinnamon is your favourite, why is she buying this for me?” Lucas replies with a deadpan expression.

  “For the office, silly,” Tara says in a dismissive tone, “For all of your muscles, you sure are slow sometimes.”

  “Most of the pretty ones are,” Soeun sighs forlornly, patting Lucas’s head and grinning when the man’s lips jut out into a pout.

  “I’m kinda smart,” he mumbles in such an uncharacteristically sulky tone that Tara can’t help but coo softly.

  “Of course you are,” she pats his back, running her hands over the muscle there in a soothing gesture before letting her hand linger at the nape of his neck and Lucas unconsciously leans into the touch. They don’t notice June’s watchful gaze on them as Soeun draws them both into a conversation about her flight.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  On a rainy day in May, Tara receives news that one of June’s primary warehouses has blown up. When she notifies him, he curses loudly and barks orders at Lucas and Tara to get him there as soon as possible.

  They arrive at the warehouse in under an hour but nothing can be done. The entire building is up in flames and it had taken a lot of bribery to keep the police away.

  June commands his men to douse the flames – which they manage to with some difficulty – and then patrols the area, “See if anything can be salvaged,” he tells one of the burly looking guards before striding back to the car at a brisk pace.

  “This wasn’t an accident,” June says and for a moment Tara thinks he’s speaking to himself before she realizes that he’s speaking to her, “Someone is behind it and I want you to find out who it is.”

  “Me?” she asks in a confused tone, eyes wide with surprise.

  “You were a journalist, right?” June continues, “You were really close to figuring out my little secret,” he grins at her, “I’m sure you can figure this out.”

  “Is it wise to give her this task?” Lucas asks from the front seat, “Won’t she be in danger if this is a gang related incident?”

  “Why?” June scoffs, “You worried about her?” he asks it in a seemingly joking tone but Tara can hear an underlying vindictiveness to his voice.

  “June,” Lucas snaps angrily, “Stop being an idiot and think for a second. If they get a hold of her, your entire operation will be compromised. You can’t let her go around unguarded.”

  June rolls his eyes with a scoff, “Send Ren with her then.”

  “Ren?” Tara asks, “What help will Ren be? Is he going to charm them with his cocktail making skills?”

  June eyes her with a secretive smile but doesn’t answer her question.

  Only much later – when June’s explained the situation to Ren – does Tara find out that Ren isn’t just June’s bartender.

  “You’re his hitman?” she gasps in a shrill voice and the three men in the room chuckle at her reaction, “Ren, we’ve known each other for almost two years!” she accuses, “You’ve met my father! I’ve gone cake tasting with your fiancée! When were you going to tell me?”

  “Sorry cupcake,” Ren chuckles with a guilty expression, “It isn’t something I can freely share. Even Gwen doesn’t know.”

  “Oh God,” Tara mutters and she can feel the bile rise in her throat, “You’ve killed people.”

  “We’ve all killed people,” June scoffs.

  “That doesn’t make it okay!” Tara hisses angrily and he’s about to bite back another malicious comment when Lucas grips his arm to caution him.

  “She probably needs a moment to take it in,” Lucas tells June in a soft voice, “Don’t make this worse.”

  Tara grips her head between her hands, elbows resting on the table with her head bowed and eyes closed as she tries to control her breathing. It takes a while but she manages to stow away her anxiety, compartmentalizing it for another day so that she doesn’t potentially have a meltdown in front of June.

  “Okay,” she mutters in a strangled voice. She clears her throat and tries again, “Okay. I think I’m fine now, please go on,” she tells June and both Lucas and Ren smile at her polite tone.

  “I want you to investigate the warehouse incident,” June tells her, “Ren is to accompany you at all times. I don’t want you going anywhere without telling him,” for a moment Tara is touched, thinking that June might actually care about her wellbeing, “If you get captured, I want you to know that we won’t rescue you. If they don’t kill you, I’ll make sure someone else does and if you tell them about any of this,” he says, implicating his syndicate operations, “You’ll wish you were dead.”

  “Yes, I get it, your threats are getting boring,” Tara rolls her eyes, “Can you tell me anything useful about the warehouse incident?” Lucas and Ren stare at her with mirroring expressions of awe.

  For a moment June looks at her with such a cold, dangerous stare that Tara feels chills run down her spine. She keeps her expression impassive and simply eyes him down as she waits for him to speak.

  After a beat of silence, “I suspect that it’s someone from the lesser gangs,” he explains, “Maybe the Red Rizers or the Jade Dragon Crew.”

  Tara nods at the information, “Those are ridiculous names but I’m sure people who call themselves the Red Rizers will leave some sort of footprint.”

  June dismisses them shortly after and Ren is tasked with escorting Tara to the warehouse after their shift the next morning.

  When they arrive at the warehouse, Ren pushes a hand out in front of her to keep her behind him, “Stay behind me,” he instructs, “We don’t know if anyone is still here,” he pulls out a gun from inside his suit jacket and Tara stares at the heavy piece of metal in shock.

  “Have you always carried around a gun?” she asks him in a skeptical tone and when Ren doesn’t reply, she rolls her eyes, “Of course you’ve always carried around a gun, you’re his hitman.”

  “You need to be a little quieter,” Ren tells her with measured patience and Tara wants to be offended but she knows he’s right. She stops speaking after that, faced pulled together in a sullen expression as they enter the building.

  He leads her to where the fire had originally broken out and Tara isn’t surprised at the state of the control panel that had caught alight. She manages to pull it open and spots the mess of wires inside, “This is a mess,” she sighs to herself, “I know nothing about wiring or sabotage and I’m not sure exactly where to start.”

  “Where would you start as a journalist?” Ren asks curiously.

  “With the police,” she tells him, “But I had to make sure the police weren’t involved so now I have no idea what to do.”

  “What about a private investigator?” Ren suggests, “Someone who knows where to ask the right questions?”

  “Do you think June would agree to it?” she asks Ren in a skeptical tone.

  “I’m not sure why not,” Ren tells her, “The only thing he can do is say no.”
/>
  As they leave, neither notices the tall figure crouched behind a set of pipes on the warehouse rooftop.

  June agrees to the suggestion of a private investigator and Tara begins her search for one. She comes across a man named Leonardo Santino – obviously a pseudonym – and pays him a large sum of money to be discrete about the situation. The entire process leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, only worsened when she returns to her apartment one day to find Soran leaning against her door.

  “Soran!” she exclaims in surprise, “What are you doing here?”

  “Hey,” he gives her a polite smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and Tara eyes the dark shadows underneath them, “How have you been?” he asks her, ignoring her question.

  “Good,” she nods, and for a moment she just stands there watching him. She knows he’s here for something and Tara has an inkling of what it could be, “Would you like to come inside for coffee?” she offers.

  “Yeah, sure,” he smiles and this time she can see the relief in his eyes.

  Tara lets him through first before stepping into the apartment herself, “How did you manage to get past the guards?” she asks curiously.

  Soran looks sheepish for a moment, hand nervously scrubbing at the back of his neck, “I may have flashed them my badge to let me in.”

  “Isn’t that technically an abuse of authority?” she asks him in a wry tone, glancing at him from the side of her eye as she fills the kettle with water.

  “Not if I’m working on a case,” he replies.

  Tara is silent for a moment, spooning in two teaspoons of coffee and one sugar into a mug – the way Soran enjoys his coffee, from what she can remember of when they worked together on cases.

  Soran is leaned against the counter, hands folded across his chest in a seemingly casual stance but she can feel the weight of his eyes on her, “Is this the part where you kick me out?” he jokes.

  “Maybe,” Tara shrugs, “It depends. Are you here about the warehouse?”

  “You tell me,” Soran counters, “Does a freak fire sparked by faulty cables cause that much damage usually? And why was it empty?”

  “You know I can’t answer those questions,” she tells him, “If you want to speak about the warehouse incident, you’ll have to take it up with June.”

  “I’ve tried,” Soran quips and Tara can hear the irritation in his tone, “But he’s awfully busy for a man who spends most of his time on yacht parties.”

  Tara shrugs at his implication, handing him his mug of coffee, “I’m not sure what exactly you want me to do about this.”

  He stares at her for a moment, eyes sad, “What’s happened to you?” he asks in a soft tone and for a moment, Tara feels her heart sink, “We haven’t spoken in almost two years,” he continues, brows furrowed in frustration, “And since when did you decide playing secretary was more important that your job.”

  “This is my job,” she snaps bitterly, more angry at herself than Soran.

  “Do you enjoy it?” he asks suddenly, “Lying for some rich business tycoon peddling drugs? Is the money really worth it?” he doesn’t wait for her to respond, “Because I know that the Tara I knew wouldn’t let herself sink so low.”

  For a moment she stares at him with such a heavy glare that she feels her eyes sting with the effort. Soran doesn’t budge and when she sees that, Tara’s shoulders slump in defeat, “Get out.”

  “I can help,” Soran tells her, ignoring her command, “We can protect you but you’ll need to help me.”

  “Soran-”

  “I know he has something on you,” he presses on, this time placing his cup down and reaching for her hands, “You wouldn’t be in this situation otherwise. I won’t let him hurt you, but in return, I need to know what was in that warehouse.”

  Tara stares at his face helplessly, tears springing to her eyes.

  “He’s hurt so many people, Tara,” Soran’s voice drops to a sad murmur, “We’ve linked him to so many deaths, so many drug deals but we don’t have the evidence to take him down. Please, Tara,” he begs.

  Tara swallows around the lump in her throat before she takes in a deep, shaky breath, “Let me think about it,” she says at last.

  “Okay,” Soran sighs too, and he reaches up to brush away her tears, “Take your time.”

  He doesn’t stay after that, simply grabs his jacket from where he’d thrown it over the couch and lets himself out.

  Tara slides to the floor where she stands, her knees giving out as she tries to still her frantically beating heart. She feels so weak all of a sudden, barely able to pick herself up.

  Not five minutes after Soran’s departure, a knock sounds from her front door. She stands with shaky legs, shuffling over to it to peer into the peephole.

  “Shit,” she cusses under her breath as she eyes Lucas’s angry expression.

  “Open the door, Tara,” he snaps, fist banging against it so loudly that Tara jumps in fear. She sighs to herself before pulling back the lock. It’s barely open before Lucas is pushing passed in an angry flurry, shutting and locking it behind himself and pulling her into the living room.

  “Do you want to explain why a cop just left your apartment?” he hisses through his teeth, arms crossed over his chest tightly.

  “He’s an old friend,” Tara tries to say it in a casual tone but even she can hear how nervous she sounds.

  “And it wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that some cop has been snooping around the warehouse?”

  She looks at him with a carefully guarded expression, “I didn’t tell him anything.”

  Lucas huffs out an angry sigh, closing his eyes and trying to calm himself, “I’m not accusing you of anything,” he says in a softer tone.

  Tara narrows her eyes, “Are you sure?” she snaps, “Because it sounded like you were.”

  “Because even being seen with a cop can get you killed,” he sighs, “You know I’ll have to tell June about this.”

  Fear seizes her throat, causing it to close up and her heart pounds erratically. She tries to act nonchalant as she says the next few words, “Fine. Tell him. I haven’t done anything wrong,” she silently swears to herself that if she’s still alive after meeting with June the next day, she’ll go to Soran with everything she has on her boss.

  The next day, she steps into the office hesitantly, eyes wary as she sees June’s closed office door. Usually, Lucas is standing in front of it and when he isn’t, he’s in June’s office speaking to the other man. Tara makes her way over to her desk as calmly as she can, seating herself quietly and beginning her work for the day.

  Lucas comes out a few minutes later, with June in tow.

  June regards her with a casual expression, “I’ll need you to take care of things today,” he tells Tara, “I have somewhere to be.”

  She nods her agreement and tries not to watch as June and Lucas walk down the hallway, speaking amongst themselves. Tara wonders whether Lucas has really told June about her meeting with Soran. She’s surprised by June’s lack of response and thoroughly unnerved at this new behaviour. Tara puts the thought from her mind and concentrates her efforts on maintaining her calm. She schedules a meeting with Soran after the club closes, both agreeing to meet at her apartment.

  She hasn’t even taken her lunch break yet, when she receives a confusing text from her younger sister. She opens the message, reading over the “Your boyfriend turned up with flowers” that her sister has typed out. Tara scrunches her brows in confusion and waits for the image to load. Once it has, she clicks on it and when she sees its contents, Tara’s blood freezes in her veins.

  In the photograph, her aunt is leaned against the salmon coloured island counter in the kitchen of their family home. June sits in the chair opposite her, nursing a mug of something in his hands while a bouquet of red roses lies next to him.

  Tara dials her sister’s number with trembling fingers.

  “You didn’t even tell me you were dating someone!” her sister accuses o
nce she’s picked up the phone.

  “It’s still new,” Tara manages to choke out what she hopes is a convincing chuckle, “Please put him on the phone.”

  “Alright, gimme a second,” her sister replies and Tara stews anxiously as the seconds tick by. After a while, she hears June’s voice on the other end of the receiver.

  “I’ve warned you not to cross me,” June says in what sounds like a bored tone, “And now your poor aunt and sister will have to suffer for it.”

  “I’ll lead the cop away,” Tara tells him and she can feel tears trail down her cheeks, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t find out, just please, don’t hurt them,” the last bit comes out a strangled whisper.