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    The Maddest of Men: In the Kingpin's Shadow, #1
    The Maddest of Men: In the Kingpin's Shadow, #1
    The Maddest of Men: In the Kingpin's Shadow, #1
    Ebook130 pages2 hours

    The Maddest of Men: In the Kingpin's Shadow, #1

    By Ofelia Gränd

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    About this ebook

    To prove his loyalty to Cham, Grayham is willing to do anything, and he does. He helps Cham run his empire by finding out the truth by any possible means. It's not as hard as it may seem, all he has to do is ask the right questions, and his internal polygraph will tell him if someone is lying or not. And when they lie—well he deals with that too. Life as an executioner can get quite lonely, not that Grayham plans on doing anything about it. It would kill him to have to off a lover.

    Creed is a retrieving agent on a mission. He is to infiltrate one of Carona's drug organisations to get to the inquisitor. Rumour states the man with the fiery red curls has supernatural powers; it also says anyone coming close to him disappears. Creed has no idea how he's going to make it out alive or why his supervisor sent him in without backup. But, when an opening to work as a waiter at one of the drug lord's parties presents itself Creed sets to work.

    In a world where people compensate for the years of bombings and starvation with clinic bought physical perfection a man with crooked teeth and mismatching eyes stands out. Grayham notices the waiter watching him straight away. If he's there to harm Cham, he'll deal with it. Creed knows he must get his hands on the inquisitor so when he is invited to the man's flat he agrees to come even though he knows it might be the last thing he'll ever do.

    Note: This story contains graphic violence, on page death of secondary characters, and sex acts between male adults.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOfelia Gränd
    Release dateNov 22, 2016
    ISBN9781386783169
    The Maddest of Men: In the Kingpin's Shadow, #1

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      Book preview

      The Maddest of Men - Ofelia Gränd

      The Maddest of Men

      By

      Ofelia Gränd

      The Maddest of Men

      Copyright © 2016 Ofelia Gränd

      All rights reserved.

      No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent publisher.

      The moral rights of the authors have been asserted.

      ofeliagrand.com

      Cover Design: Amy Spector

      To prove his loyalty to Cham, Grayham is willing to do anything, and he does. He helps Cham run his empire by finding out the truth by any possible means. It's not as hard as it may seem, all he has to do is ask the right questions, and his internal polygraph will tell him if someone is lying or not. And when they lie—well he deals with that too. Life as an executioner can get quite lonely, not that Grayham plans on doing anything about it. It would kill him to have to off a lover.

      Creed is a retrieving agent on a mission. He is to infiltrate one of Carona's drug organisations to get to the inquisitor. Rumour states the man with the fiery red curls has supernatural powers; it also says anyone coming close to him disappears. Creed has no idea how he's going to make it out alive or why his supervisor sent him in without backup. But, when an opening to work as a waiter on one of the drug lord's parties presents itself Creed sets to work.

      In a world where people compensate for the years of bombings and starvation with clinic bought physical perfection a man with crooked teeth and mismatching eyes stands out. Grayham notices the waiter watching him straight away. If he's there to harm Cham, he'll deal with it. Creed knows he must get his hands on the inquisitor so when he is invited to the man's flat he agrees to come even though he knows it might be the last thing he'll ever do.

      Note: This story contains graphic violence, on page death of secondary character, and sex acts between male adults.

      A special thanks to Al, Amy and Dante for the encouragement and support. This world would be a much poorer place without you.

      Table of Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      About the Author

      By the Author

      Chapter 1

      Grayham stared at his red-smeared knuckles in distaste. A few specks of blood grew larger on the cuff of his shirt as the fabric soaked it up. Fucking typical. He hoped the suit jacket would cover it. He hadn't brought a spare dress shirt—he didn't own a spare dress shirt, and he didn't want to own one.

      Cole groaned, the raspy sound amplified as it hit the concrete walls of the empty room. His chin almost touched his chest where he hung in his restraints on the chair. Grayham didn't want to look at him, but what could he do? The job needed to be done.

      Okay, let's go over this again. Who did you sell the information to?

      I didn't sell any information.

      Grayham felt warmth glow in his chest and stopped to study Cole. The perfection Grayham saw every day was ruined by the smudges of blood. A tooth had been knocked out, making a steady stream of bloodied spittle trickle down his chin. It was a shame. He liked Cole; liked might be the wrong word, but he'd grown accustomed to having him around. He'd even believed he was one of the smart ones. Apparently, he'd been wrong since he'd failed to get paid for double-crossing Cham.

      Did you leak any information about Cham or the firm?

      No. The crackling voice sent a trail of cold pinpricks down his spine—a lie. Grayham heard the crunch of his fist connecting with Cole's nose long before the pain in his knuckles blossomed. He shook out his hand, tired beyond belief of this crap. It didn't matter, though; he needed to get it sorted in time to get back to the reception. Why he needed to be at some fancy party, he didn't know, but Cham wanted him there.

      Grayham scowled and massaged his temples. The right question, he needed to ask the right fucking question.

      Cole spluttered, angry eyes glaring, and then he spat. A blob of blood-filled saliva landed on the shiny surface of Grayham's left shoe.

      Grayham clenched his teeth and watched the small puddle. Okay, time to get this mess out of the way.

      Have you been talking to anyone outside the firm?

      No.

      The cold prickles again and Grayham sighed. You stupid fuck, there is no way you can answer that question with a no. You talk to people every day. So, let's try again. Have you spoken to anyone outside the firm?

      Cole made a frustrated sound at the back of his throat. Yes, but not about the firm.

      Warmth spread in Grayham's chest—truth. So he didn't talk about what they did every day. That was comforting. Have you spoken of the firm with anyone from law enforcement?

      Not to my knowledge. Cole's blocked nose made the words hard to make out but Grayham got it, and the heat in his chest told him Cole believed he told the truth.

      But you have been giving someone information?

      Cole stayed quiet. Dumb fucker, did he think it would help to keep his mouth shut? I'll take that as a yes. Now, do you want to tell me who or should we move on to other...techniques? Grayham gestured to the table of knives, sledgehammers, guns, and bats. He preferred to work without tools but the effect of seeing the items neatly displayed sped the process up, and Grayham needed to get back to the party. Cham wanted him to be seen by the throng of beautiful women with clinic-bought looks and perfected senses. He wanted the powerful men, equally perfected, to sneer at him like they always did. What purpose it served, Grayham didn't know, but he would be there. It was all part of Cham's plan, he assumed.

      Cole gave a pained sound. A purplish red swelling was spreading over the bridge of his nose. Grayham kept his face impassive while the familiar black tar filled his insides. Just do what needs to be done.

      The cold from the cellar wall seeped into him as he leant against it to observe Cole. His eyes strayed to the knives then jumped away only to land on them again—blades then. Grayham sighed and reached for a middle-sized combat knife. It was heavy in his hand but effective; he'd used it plenty of times before. Looking down on his light blue shirt, he gave in and cursed. There was no way he could do this without getting splatter on him.

      With one last glance at Cole, he turned to the fortified steel door. He listened to make sure no one was outside, but he couldn't hear a thing. Of course he couldn't. There was a reason Cham had told him to use this room. Interesting how the old art museum came with a soundproofed room in the basement.

      He simply had to rely on Lou doing his job—not a comforting thought. Cracking the door open while resting the knife against the dank concrete wall, he peeked out into the arched corridor.

      Lou ran a hand through his inky hair and gave him a quizzical look from where he stood leaning against the opposite door. Can I help you with anything? The amused tone had Grayham grinding his teeth. He didn't mind Lou, he was the one he minded the least, but sometimes he wished he wouldn't grin at everything Grayham did. What's so funny anyway?

      Cole started shouting from inside the room, but no one was in the corridor so Grayham didn't much care.

      You don't happen to have a coat or an apron or something? Don't want to get blood on the shirt. Grayham frowned and pointed at his chest, not realising he did so with the knife until Lou's lips quirked and his eyes sparkled.

      Erm...give me a minute and I'll see what I can do. He was fighting a grin. Grayham guessed he should be satisfied with him fighting it even though he failed.

      Okay, knock when you get back. Grayham shut the door and locked it.

      Now, where were we? He turned to Cole, blew a red curl out of his eyes. He'd rather not get blood in his hair if he could avoid it.

      Wha-what did you tell him? The muffled words made Grayham want to roll his eyes—he shouldn't have cracked Cole's nose, it made communicating much harder.

      I asked for an apron.

      What colour Cole had on his cheeks vanished in a second. You...you're really gonna cut me? After everything we've been through?

      Grayham strained to make out the

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