"I've been drinking. I can't drive," Conrad Lockwood said to the attendant standing near the hotel entrance. "Get me a designated driver."He hadn't felt it inside the restaurant, not with the warmth of the private room and the easy flow of conversation. But the moment he stepped through the revolving doors into the cool night air, the alcohol hit him like a wall. His head swam, and even his steps wobbled slightly on the polished marble."Right away, sir."The attendant turned to leave, but Conrad called after him. "One more thing. My two bodyguards are still upstairs in the private room, both passed out. Get them a hotel room and put it on my tab."At least he had enough decency not to leave them slumped over the table until morning.The designated driver arrived within minutes. When the man saw the car he'd be driving, a Bentley gleaming under the hotel's accent lighting, he froze for a solid three seconds before collecting himself. Eventually it was the d

Conrad Lockwood's new villa sat at the end of a private drive, all clean lines and cold marble. Beyond the man himself, only a handful of bodyguards occupied the sprawling estate. Normally, they never disturbed him unless something demanded his attention.Conrad glanced at the door when the knock came, then gestured for George to answer it.George had barely closed his fingers around the handle when the world exploded inward. The door blasted off its hinges with a deafening crack, catching George full in the chest and launching him backward like a ragdoll. He hit the floor hard, skidded several feet across the polished tile, and didn't move again.Conrad froze. Beside him, David went rigid, his expression locked somewhere between disbelief and animal alertness.This wasn't possible. Conrad knew exactly what George was capable of. In the underground fighting rings overseas, he'd watched the man dismantle over a dozen hardened fighters single-handedly. Even when th

The doorman bowed low and pulled open the car door with practiced deference, his posture radiating the kind of respect reserved for guests who arrived in vehicles worth more than most people's homes.Aaron stepped out in nothing more than a casual shirt and jeans. He looked good, sure, but nothing about his appearance screamed wealth. Still, the doorman didn't so much as blink. In a place like this, the truly rich often dressed like they had nothing to prove.Aaron didn't give it much thought. He told Coldwraith to head back, then walked through the grand entrance of the building and settled into the lobby lounge to wait. The brief moment of the Rolls-Royce pulling up and Aaron stepping out barely registered with the crowd. This part of Seaport City was thick with money, and luxury cars lined the curb like taxis at a train station. One more hardly mattered.But in a shadowed corner across the street, someone with a camera had noticed. The lens swung toward the Rolls-R