Impossible Attraction (Deadly, #1)

Prologue - Blake

Blake

Eight Years Ago

I wake up to my mother's bone chilling scream and the sound of rapid footsteps throughout the house. I jolt up in bed and automatically reach for the gun in my bedside table, the one I never thought I'd actually have to use. A sick, knowing feeling slides up my spine as I realize that it's happening.

I was only eight years old when my father told me the Scott family secret. Our family's dark past began with my great, great something grandfather Jacob Scott in 1806 when he created a gang called the Charcoal Cobras in Orlando, Florida. From what I understand, my ancestor Jacob was a cold, manipulative man who only cared about himself. The gang he created was designed to rid the world of minority races. Every male member of my family has been a part of the Charcoal Cobras—the CCs in short—ever since 1806.

I grip my gun tightly and take the safety off before quietly moving stealthily towards my bedroom door.

"Find the kid," a male voice orders loudly from out in the hallway. My heart picks up pace and I pray to god that this is a nightmare, that I'm only dreaming this.

My father warned me growing up that this day might come, that the CCs might find him, find us. I just never actually thought it would happen.

"Keep him alive," the gruff voice snarls, getting louder. I position myself next to the door, waiting for them to swing it open. I won't hesitate. I can't hesitate. I have to shoot. I have to shoot a living, breathing person.

The gang is after my father because he ran from them, he ran from a lifelong commitment he made to the CCs, and with it, he took a hefty chunk of cash that belonged to them. My father ran eighteen years ago, soon after I was born, to save my mother's life and to give me a better one.

You see, my father made the biggest mistake a CCs member can make. He fell in love. The CCs see women as a liability, a weakness. They use them to create new legacy members, more males. Once they've fulfilled their purpose, the CCs kill the women and any female children that may have been born in the process of trying to conceive a male. They're dark and twisted men and that's why I can't hesitate. I have to shoot. My hand shakes as I attempt to hold my weapon steady. I can't take waiting any longer.

I turn the door knob slowly and begin to ease open the door, just as another blood curling scream comes from my mother and father's bedroom. I'm not letting them fuck with my mom.

I wouldn't have believed my dad's stories growing up if it weren't for the things the man knew, the things he told me, the answers he had to some of the country's biggest, most terrible unsolved crimes, and the details he had about them. The things he told me... Some things people are better off not knowing. I know he told me to protect me, like how he taught me to use a gun as soon as my mom would let him.

My father isn't a bad man. Sure, he's done bad—no terrible—things, but he is not a bad man at heart. Everything he did while with the CCs was because he was brainwashed to think it was right. He grew up hunting, killing, tracking, doing drugs, and drinking. He grew up surrounded by men who wanted nothing more than to kill and wreak havoc.

I swing the door open and ease into the hallway with stealth. I duck into the bathroom as a man comes sprinting from my parent's room towards me. Training for something like this is one thing, actually being in this situation is a complete other thing. I'm relieved when the guy doesn't see me and rushes past the bathroom and into my bedroom. I wonder how many men are in the house. I've complained for years about the hardcore weapon and physical training my dad has made me do near daily for as long as I can remember, but I suddenly, completely understand why it was all necessary, suddenly I'm thankful I've been trained for this, even if I'm not ready to face it.