Team Zero Series 1-3 Boxed Set

by Rina Kent

  The rest are hostages at The Pit until we finish this mission. Hades knows Team Zero has always been my family and I will never abandon them. That’s why he only dispatched four with me. He knows I will return for the others.

  “Where’s the birthday boy?” Mist asks. “Kyle is so popular amongst the girls, everyone wants to be his birthday present.”

  Shadow laughs. “Probably shagging them as we speak.”

  “Most girls are using him to get Ghost’s attention, though,” Mist amused gaze flickers to me. “Even with your secret identity, you draw attention. How about taking one, Julian?”

  “No.” I have no room for distractions.

  “Don’t listen to her.” Shadow slams his glass on the table, droplets splash all over. “She uses her girls to weaken and then attacks like a venomous snake.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” She points a finger at Shadow. “I would never use the girls.”

  “You know who I’m talking about, old hag. Where is she?”

  “Call me old hag again and I will paint the wall with your brains.”

  “Would like to see you try, old hag. And stop glaring, the wrinkles are starting to show.”

  My temples throb. No idea if the withdrawal symptoms are kicking in or if these two are causing it.

  Or both.

  Shadow and Mist are the closest to me, but they’re irritating as hell when they’re at each other’s throats.

  I stand to pour myself another drink. They continue their back and forth.

  “So noisy,” Flame mumbles in the background.

  When I pass by the window, movement catches my attention.

  Kyle, my disciple, my responsibility since I trained him in The Pit, and whom I consider a son, is draping his arm around a woman’s shoulder.

  Not just any woman.

  It’s the same woman who kicked Johnny in the balls in the alley. Only now, she’s no longer in jeans and a hoodie. She’s wearing a mid-thigh red dress that hugs her body in all the right places. Waves of chestnut hair fall to the middle of her back.

  She’s so damn beautiful, but also... wrong.

  How can someone change from a street fighter to a spitting image of Mist’s girls?

  Something is fishy.

  “Hey, Mist,” I say.

  She pauses her battle with Shadow. “Yes?”

  “Let me help with interviewing the new girl.”

  “Really?”

  My eyes squint at the top of the girl’s head, and I’m inexplicably glad to see her again. “Yes, really.”

  Hello again, Firefly.

  3

  Elle

  The den of monsters in which Zoe disappeared has the form of a castle.

  The club is three storeys high and sits on a large piece of isolated land in the suburbs of London.

  Le Salon.

  It’s labelled as a club and an entertainment parlour where rich and upper-class men come to talk and drink with girls. What they actually come to do is buy sex. It’s a side business and only aimed at specific, chosen guests, and sex isn’t always expected, but most of the girls working here are escorts.

  Just like my Ma.

  I tug on the hem of my too-short dress, fists clenching until my nails scratch the skin.

  Ma’s life was my disgrace. I admired her strength for giving birth to me even when everyone said it would ruin her career. I loved her, but I swore I’d never be her. That’s why I trained every day since I was a little girl. I lifted weights, punched things, and bled my knuckles so I would never cross paths with what she did.

  But here I am. In a similar place to the brothel I was born and raised in.

  It’s all for Zoe.

  My fingers go to clutch my bracelet but connect with skin. Strands of my hair get in my face as my head hangs. I can’t believe I lost my one remaining connection with Zoe. I searched for it in that alley like a lunatic. I even made Hayley help. There was no trace whatsoever. I would’ve searched for eternity, but then, I would’ve blown my first meeting with Mist.

  So, I came here dressed in this mid-thigh, skin-tight dress and black stilettos. I’m still itching to throw these painful heels to Neverland.

  “Hey, love.” A male voice drawls from behind me before an arm drapes around my shoulder.

  I swallow down the reflex to elbow him, turn around and kick him in the bollocks.

  If I want to be accepted into this place, I need to act the part. I plaster a smile on my lips and face the wanker who’s still clutching my shoulder.

  He’s surprisingly young, about my age. That’s so unlike the old farts I expected to find in such a place. A fashionable denim jacket stretches over well-defined muscles, all complete with designer jeans. Twinkling blue eyes stare at mine and a smirk curves his lips. Add a square jawline and a playful gleam, and he appears straight out of a magazine cover.

  Heat rises to my ears.

  What’s with the good-looking guys I keep running into today?

  Only that tattooed stranger from earlier was more intimidating than this one. At least, this wanker is reducing points by acting as if he knows me or something.

  And he seems more approachable.

  Perhaps I can use him?

  “Hi.” I continue smiling.

  “Are ye new here, love?” There’s a hint of northern Irish accent to his words.

  His gaze roams over my body, pausing at my cleavage.

  I try to appear innocent and swallow the urge to poke his eyes out. I don’t think appearing clueless is hard. Liam always says I appear docile until I start punching things.

  My voice is tentative. “Uh... yeah. I think I’m lost. I can’t find the madam’s office.”

  He places a hand on his chest, expression dramatic. “Ye’ve run into the right person. I’ll take ye there in no time.” He nudges me towards the huge double doors with an intricate, golden design. “I’m Kyle, by the way.”

  “I’m Elle.” I decided to go with my real name. I’m unable to react to a name that isn’t mine, and it’s not like they can find anything on my background. I’m just a barmaid from the poor side of London. Just like most the girls who work here.

  “That’s a grand name, love.” Kyle ushers me inside, the mischievous gleam written all over his face.

  I roll my suitcase along, but Kyle tells me to leave it at the entrance. Someone will fetch it. As in, search it. But I pretend to be dumb. Smart people don’t survive in such places. At least not those in low ranks.

  It’s still early for opening time, so I assume Kyle isn’t a customer. Perhaps he’s a guard? But wouldn’t those wear black suits or something?

  Either way, Kyle seems like a good starting point in this mission.

  Once we’re inside, I’m momentarily caught by the dazzling lights. The scent of lavender and jasmine intertwines so closely in the spacious hall. There are no customers yet, but the lounge area is crowded with cleaning staff who make no sound whatsoever. For an outsider, it would look no different from an elegant hotel’s reception area.

  What happens upstairs, where Kyle is taking me, is an entirely different story.

  As we ascend the stairs, two men dressed in black intercept us. Gangsters. Although bulky and tall, they lower their heads upon seeing Kyle. They stand near the wall and allow us to pass through before continuing their path.

  Colour me surprised!

  That means Kyle has a rank – even at such a young age. I definitely need to use him. He could be close to Ghost.

  “So what brought ye over?” he asks as we stroll down a wide hall, decorated by vintage wallpaper and elegant platforms. “We don’t get too many innocent-looking girls like ye, love.”

  “I have lots of debts and I need money.”

  He laughs, the sound is long and genuinely amused. “Honest. I like it.”

  We stop in front of a large door with intricate swirls and geometrical designs on the wood. Kyle doesn’t knock. He barges inside with me still trapped under his ar
m.

  “Hey, Mist!” he calls. “I want her as my birthday present.”

  Wanker. What does he think I am? An object?

  Mist – or who I assume is Mist – sits behind a large mahogany desk. Eyes closed, her head is leaning against her fist. A strikingly dark red hair is gathered in a neat French twist. That can’t be natural.

  The sombre red light of the room reminds me of those photographers’ darkrooms. The view is partially obstructed by the odd choice of light.

  It smells of alcohol; Scotch and cognac. I make out a small bar to the right.

  “Mistyyy!” Kyle calls again like an obnoxious kid who’s been ignored by his mother.

  “Shut it.” She groans. Her voice, although feminine, is sharp and authoritative. “My head hurts and your whining doesn’t help.”

  No idea what and if she did something, but all of a sudden, the light switches to normal white. I squint at the sudden change.

  A quick sweep shows an antique lounging area and a door to the right not far behind Mist’s desk. I’ll have to find out where it leads.

  Still leaning on her hand, Mist opens her eyes. Their sharp hazel falls straight on me. That woman with a seemingly perfect face could’ve participated in taking Zoe away – after all, she owns this place. What right does she have to sit there like a queen on her throne? If only I could strangle and punch the answers out of her.

  Mist’s lips twitch up in a small smile.

  Shit.

  I lower my head. Was I glaring? Did she catch me? I need to get it together.

  “Out, Kyle.” Mist’s tone is non-negotiable.

  “I still need my birthday present!” He leans in to whisper in my ear. “Don’t be nervous, love. There are no cameras or listening devices in here.”

  Good to know. Breaking into Mist’s office would be easier.

  Kyle continues murmuring, “I’ll keep an eye on ye, love.”

  Please do.

  He’s easily on the list of people to use.

  The door clicks closed, leaving me under Mist’s scrutinising gaze.

  “Sit down.” She motions at the chair across from her desk and doesn’t even bother to straighten.

  She’s hard to read.

  I sit on the leather chair, back straight and one hand on top of the other. First impressions matter the most. Mist needs to believe I’m serious about this.

  And I am. Being accepted in Le Salon is the only way to find Zoe.

  “Why do you want to join us, Emmanuelle?” Her voice is cool and sophisticated, just like her entire demeanour.

  “Lily said that you’re looking for –”

  She puts a finger up, shushing me. “I know about Lily and that she vouched for you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be sitting here. I’m asking about your reason.”

  I inhale deeply. Truth is always the best way to weave a lie. “My mother worked at a low brothel. When I was young and watched her give head to men in the toilet for a few quid, I swore to never sell myself as cheap as she did. If someone puts a hand on my body, then they should at least pay a thousand. That’s why I wanted to come here.”

  Mist raises a perfect eyebrow. “That confident?”

  I nod. “If you accept me, I’ll prove my worth.”

  She abandons her inert position and stands. Her black dress hugs her slim, fit shape. She strolls towards me, leans forward and places a red-manicured finger under my chin. Her perfume is something powerful and mystic, but there’s a hint of a flower, too. Lilac?

  This close, she appears controlling and calculating, as expected of Le Salon’s madam.

  I don’t care who she is. I’ll destroy her with my own hands if she’s done anything to Zoe.

  I rein in the urge to ruin her face or wiggle away.

  “There’s a fire in there.” She plunges her impassive eyes in mine. “That’s both irritating and interesting.” She smiles, showcasing blinding white teeth. “Tell me, Emmanuelle. What will you do to prove your worth?”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “An audition. A demonstration of your escort skills.”

  My heartbeat spikes up. Shit. Shit!

  Lily said I only have to serve drinks for the first few months, and then, if I’m deemed good enough, I’ll be promoted to an escort. I work as a barmaid when not fighting, so I have confidence in mixing drinks. I planned to find Zoe and bugger off before those months were over.

  No one said anything about a demonstration.

  I wasn’t prepared for this. What the hell am I supposed to do?

  “Second thoughts?” Mist steps back and folds her arms under her chest. “This isn’t a world you can come into on a whim and then leave. Once you’re in, you will never be out. If you want to leave, this is the only chance to do it.”

  It’d be easy to walk out of the door and pretend this never happened. My body is already angling towards the exit. I’m supposed to be in the gym, boxing and sweating like a dog, not trapped in this fancy dress and having to demonstrate escort skills I don’t have.

  But that will also mean I’d lose my only lead to Zoe.

  “No.” My voice is firm. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

  “Lovely.” She admires her nails, seeming bored with the whole thing. “I have somewhere to go. Julian will come over and you’re to do a demonstration on him. He’s one of my most trusted men, so his word is like mine. If he gives the ok, you’re in. If not, you’re out.”

  I curl my fingers in my dress to hide the tremor taking over my limbs. “What am I to demonstrate?”

  “Aren’t you here to show your worth?” She stops examining her nails to zero her eyes on me. “Do what you think will get you a place here. Make Julian happy with you.”

  She gives me another once over.

  Mist is definitely in the ‘to be wary of’ category. I don’t like the vibe she gives. Not one bit.

  After another moment of silence, she saunters out of the office.

  I’m contemplating jumping out of the window.

  My foot jiggles and sweat breaks on my forehead. I would do anything for Zoe. I would sell my soul to the devil to get her back, but I’m completely clueless in this department.

  I have none of my friend’s elegance and natural charm. I’m just a boxer who’s always in sportswear, preparing for my next match or a barmaid serving drinks. These clothes are already way out of my comfort zone. How did being a waitress turn into an escort demonstration?

  My brain nears exploding. I should’ve gone out with Zoe when she begged me to. Perhaps if I did, I wouldn’t be stuck right now.

  Calm. I breathe through my nose. How hard can it be? I’ll just pretend the guard is a statue and straddle his lap or something. That should do it, right?

  Besides, Zoe said that most men are into innocent girls and I’m clueless enough as it is, so I will nail that part.

  No need to freak out. Yet, my leg won’t stop bouncing.

  The door opens. My spine jerks up. I force my leg to remain still.

  Measured footsteps fill the office’s tomb silence as the man approaches. The sound stops right behind my chair and heat radiates down my back. A tame cedar scent mixed with something else I can’t pinpoint whirls around me.

  I can feel his gaze burning a hole in the back of my neck, but I don’t dare to peek behind me, both to appear submissive and from the nerves. I’m barely reining in the spasming of my leg.

  After what seems like forever, the man walks to sit on the chair opposite mine.

  I measure him from bottom to top. Black leather shoes. Pressed black trousers. Both his arms rest on the chair’s armrests. One of his wrists is bandaged. Intricate tattoos seep from underneath his cuffs and cover the back of his hand.

  Wait.

  Those tattoos are familiar. Way too familiar.

  My gaze snaps to his face. My body stiffens.

  He’s watching me with a tilted head. The golden rings in his eyes swallow me like they did earlier today. They’re even more fri
ghtening now. Calculative. Dark.

  The stranger from the alley.

  How...?

  Did he follow me? Was he keeping an eye on me on Mist’s behalf?

  My brain goes into overdrive. He saw me fight. He knows I can fight. Will that stop Mist from accepting me?

  No. She said if I impress him, I’ll be in.

  All I have to do is make him accept me.

  Whatever it takes.

  4

  Elle

  I can and will do this.

  Ma was many things and I had my disagreements with her, but she was stunning. I inherited those genes; the deep blue eyes and chestnut hair and soft features. They always bothered me because no one took me seriously in the fighting ring.

  Until I kicked their arses.

  Now is one of those times to prove my worth. Only this is a lot different from an underground match. Punching, kicking? No problem. Talking to a handsome man? That’s an entirely different bag altogether.

  The man staring at me with a tilted head is another type of opponent. I just have to impress him instead of kicking his arse.

  For Zoe.

  With a deep breath, I stand with a grace I’ve been copying from the girls I practised around. The key is to sway my hips a little, but not to the point of overkill.

  I saunter to the mini-bar on the side of the office, making sure to take my time. I stop in front of the bottles. The smell of scotch and bourbon brings a wave of familiarity. Now, alcohol is something I can deal with.

  “What would you like to drink?” I would guess whiskey. He seems like the whiskey type.

  I think.

  “What makes you think you can offer me a drink?” His deep voice sounds right behind me. His heat radiates down my back.

  I flinch. I didn’t even hear him approach. He made himself noticeable earlier, but now, it’s like he floated through the air or something.

  Reining in my reaction, I turn around. I’m struck by the proximity. My chest grazes his, and I swiftly step back against the cabinet to put distance between us. The wood digs into my back, and it takes everything in me not to knee or punch him away.