Syndicate

Chapter One

Standing at the check-in desk, it was easy to find her target in the restaurant, as Ren had been watching his work through her hidden camera's for weeks now. Camera's hidden in hotel rooms, his company boardrooms, closets, even his car. The man would fuck anything in his vicinity should his unwary prey linger long enough. That's not to say anything of the videos she has from his own home. The violent ones that made her blood run ice cold.

The maître de looked over Ren slowly as he approached. Taking in her black motorcycle boots, ripped black jeans and black long-sleeved top. Ren smiled politely as stopped at the desk. He ignored her for a moment, looking carefully over the client list.

"I have a reservation," Ren said politely. "Name is Anderson. Julie and Royce Anderson."

The balding old man raised his eyebrow and looked at the book. His finger found the entry.

"I believe one of your party is already here," he said.

"I know," Ren replied.

"This way please," he said loftily, his spine erect.

Ren followed obediently behind the black suited pompous man, but her eyes sought out Royce Anderson again. The target and the husband of her client. The one paying her for all this. Ren watched him as they got closer to the table, fortifying herself for what was about to happen. It didn't matter to her the looks she received for how she was dressed, as she passed the other tables. The other diners all looked elegant compared to her motorcycle gear, but Ren wasn't here to enjoy an evening of Michelin level dining. Instead, her job was to deliver some paperwork.

"This is your table. They will be along shortly with your water and menu," the maître de announced, his gloved hand slowly gesturing to the empty seat opposite Royce.

Royce Anderson was a normal looking man. There was nothing that set him apart from the thousands of other men in Los Angeles, California. Except that his net worth was around the billion-dollar mark, and he had proclivities for domestic violence and rape.  The first was well known, the last was not. Yet. His blue eyes looked up and watched absently as Ren took the empty seat opposite him.

"Excuse me, there is some mistake-," Royce began to say, the maître de already moving away. 

"No mistake," Ren smiled at him and put her bag down. "Your wife will not be joining us."

Looking at the man more closely, the CCTV and hidden recordings flashed through Ren's mind. The horrific acts she witnessed this man committing on them nauseating her stomach even now. She would never have suspected the man opposite her would be the same guy. That hidden darkness he has carefully separated from his public image for a long time now, was about to be released to the world.

A thought seemed to have come to him. The absent, dismissive look vanishing instantly. Instead, replaced by a mocking sneer of contempt. His bushy eyebrows raised in question as he stared imperiously across the table back at her. Straightening his sleeve from his jacket, he sniffed and watched Ren with a smirk.

"Are you another one of her friends? Accosting me at work and at home. And now at our dinner reservation? Do none of you really have nothing better to do, than listen to a lonely housewife with a vivid imagination?" he said, his head tilting as he watched her.

Ren reached down into her backpack, pulling out a sealed enveloped and placed it in front of him. Royce stared at it for a few beats and then sighed. He remained smug as he took it off the table and opened it. He remained defiant as he pulled out the papers. But those looks slowly slid off his face, however, as he read over the pages.

"What the hell is this?" he demanded, flickering through the documents.

He eyes quickly scanned over the words on the pages. Certain sections catching his attention as he got angrier and his face whiter. When Ren didn't answer, he looked over the table at her.