Chapter 1406

“Dylan, Dad said if our little sister is still kickin’, the whole Sanders family stockpile’s gonna be hers.

Everything else might fall our way, but that’s it.” Over the years, Dylan had been the one running the

Sanders Corporation, and the stock had been climbing like a rocket. His rep in the North American

business circles was pretty much neck and neck with Ian’s over in Greenfield. He’d poured blood,

sweat, and tears into the company. What would happen if he wound up with zilch in the end? Luckily,

Dylan’s head was on straight about this. He just grunted a “Hmm.” Beck went on with the instructions,

“Starting now, no one but me and my crew gets to visit Dad. Dylan, could you give Mom a heads-up?”

Dylan nodded again, giving another “Hmm.” After planting his guys at the hospital, Beck drove out to

the no-man’s-land of North America. It was a bit of a haul from downtown – a three-hour drive. Only

when he donned his mask and stepped inside did he grasp just how dark and bloodthirsty this place

was. He’d been here once before, hearing tales of families battling for control. On his rite of passage as

a grown man, he’d sneaked in and discovered an underground fight club that was a whole other world

from what was above. It was a magnet for thugs and ruffians, a cesspool of vice. But weirdly, make a

big enough mess here, and you’d vanish from here the next day. The fight club ran the joint. Any

shootout, and they’d be the first to clean house. Beyond that, the club stayed out of it. Personal beefs

were exactly that – personal. So, the well-bred rarely ventured here. Step inside, and you were marked

as shady. Whatever happened, it was on you – no one else. Inside, Beck spotted her immediately – the

dame in the red slip dress. Nydia held a fan, the kind from olden days, but clearly not for cooling off.

She leaned against a wall, coy smile playing behind the fan, watching as gamblers lost their shirts. She

knew Beck. Her eyebrows lifted when their eyes met. He walked past the crowd to stand by her

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side. “Where’s Ian?” Nydia gave him the once-over, then spun on her heel. “Follow me.” Up on the

seventh floor, Ian was doing laps in the pool, while Maja sat poolside, her pale legs dipped in the water.

Ian’s scars had healed up nicely. Just this morning, ready to gobble someone up, Maja had dragged

him here instead, under the pretense of “exercise.” Feeling a bit threatened – wondering if a few days

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of weakness had him looking less appealing – he’d already swum several laps, his body steaming. A

knock on the door. Nydia’s voice. “Ian, Beck’s here.” Beck? Ian wiped water from his face and rose

from the pool, draping a robe over his shoulders. Why was Beck here? He glanced at Maja, still by the

pool. “Wanna come?” Maja, cradling a laptop – recently on the hunt for that address Eric gave –

snapped it shut, slipped on her shoes, and moved to his side. Beck waited in the lounge, getting a taste

of Ian’s luxury. The floor-to-ceiling windows gave a view of the giant screens outside. Each screen

showed live feeds of the different floors. Even perched on the seventh, Ian could keep tabs on the rest

of the place. The view was stunning, especially with a dash of blue sky above, light cascading down in

a shimmering trail. As Beck was getting lost in the scene, Ian breezed in. “Got something for me?”

Beck didn’t waste time with pleasantries, taking a seat. “My dad sent you to dig up dirt on the lost

Sanders daughter, right? Got anything? And what’s the deal with Phelps?” Ian suddenly remembered

warning Augus about Phelps, but back then, there was no hard evidence. And Augus, having had

Phelps as his personal doc once, trusted the guy a ton. “My father’s hoping the paternity test Phelps

cooked up is bogus. He’s out cold now, but he’s clinging to the hope his daughter’s alive.” When Beck

finished, he glanced at Maja. Maja, elbow on the table, chin in hand, kept tapping away at her laptop.

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