COLE: THE MADMAN: Book 3 (A Phoenix Club Serial Thriller)

CH 1: What Already Happened

"Was Cole alone?" the man asked as he followed Byrne into the alley behind the club. "Did he come in with someone, or meet someone here?"

"Not that I saw," Byrne said. "As far as I know, he was alone." He played it cool and casual. Having observed Cole and the people closest to him for some time now, Byrne knew that this man—Gabe—was no fool. Right now, Gabe was running on adrenaline, concerned for the welfare of his husband. But given enough time to think... he might just figure out that something was off with this whole situation. Byrne didn't intend to give him time to think.

Grabbing the boy was easier—not because the kid was stupid, but rather, he was younger, smaller, and Byrne caught him alone and unaware. Plus, he had a gun. The boy had clearly thought about making a run for it, but he was smart enough not to act recklessly when his adversary was armed.

Gabe was their prime target, though. His dad had warned him not to fuck this up. Bringing in the boy had been a mediocre accomplishment—the kid was merely bait for the others. Still, his dad promised he could have the boy to do with as he pleased once he delivered Gabe. The kid was young and fresh and... beautiful. Byrne lusted for his virgin flesh... salivated for his screams... craved his blood.

Focus, Byrne chided himself as his dick got hard just thinking about what he would do to the boy. There would be no playtime with the kid if he didn't finish this job first.

Byrne was halfway down the dead-end alley before he realized Gabe wasn't right behind him. He glanced behind him and noticed the other man's footsteps had slowed as he looked cautiously around the alleyway.

"The door is right over here," Byrne spoke, maintaining his calm.

Uncertainty and... wariness?... pinched Gabe's face as he kept a short distance between them yet continued to follow Byrne.

Come on, asshole, Byrne silently berated the man, get closer.

Byrne had a gun, but the alley was dark and if he drew his weapon, Gabe had a fair chance of evading him without getting shot. And Byrne didn't want to fire blindly. If he killed Gabe—there would be hell to pay. He needed the man up close where Byrne retained the leverage.

"Hey," Byrne said when he halted outside the door. "You coming?"

Gabe approached with that air of caution. "This doesn't make sense," he murmured. "Cole doesn't do things like this."

"Has he been acting at all off lately?" Byrne asked. "Maybe something's been troubling him that he didn't tell you about."

"He tells me everything," Gabe said, yet a sliver of doubt pierced his words. He walked closer, his eyes trained on Byrne.

He's wary of me. That's not good.

"What did you say your name was?" Gabe asked, eyes narrowing.

"I didn't. But it's Mark."

"Have you been working here at the club since it opened?"

"Uh, yeah." Byrne grew agitated but maintained control.

"Are you from New York?"

"Yes." Byrne flexed his hands.

Gabe drew a little closer. "What was my husband wearing tonight?"

"What?" Byrne frowned. His heart pumped faster. "I don't know—clothes. I was more concerned with his condition than what he was wearing. Why?"

"You had to have noticed something. You dealt with him up close, right? Helped him to the back room to lie down. You didn't even notice what color of shirt he wore, or what kind of shirt it was?"