Martin Voss had always been careful to keep work separate from his personal life. And that included his dating life. Before Allison, the most the enforcer had ever done was short, contractual relations. Quick, dirty, and just enough to scratch an itch. Allie? He'd gotten careless and gotten attached to someone who was everything he wasn't. Someone who should've never gotten even an ounce of exposure to the life he'd been wrapped up in since his teens. And definitely not the daughter of a police chief. And secrets like his, they didn't stay buried easily...
He'd gotten injured recently and had been promised some time to heal, his cover that he'd had a fall at work off some scaffolding at the construction site (that was a front and money laundering operation in itself) and had broken a few ribs. Not the brutal turf dispute between the people he worked for and a local gang that was getting just a bit too big and bold to be ignored where he'd taken a bat to the chest. But apparently not everybody had gotten the memo that he wasn't currently active...
Martin’s froze as he stepped out of the bathroom and saw Allison standing in the living room, his phone buzzing incessantly in her hand. He didn’t need to guess—she’d seen the messages. Nico’s urgent texts kept pouring in as they stood there, and now the damning words were right in front of her: the docks, the job gone south, the mention of blood.
"Allie... I need you to remain calm and give me the phone."