In the Kingpin’s Shadow is a post-apocalyptic series that takes place in Carona, the city that once was called something else. Society is falling apart after wars and starvation, people are focusing more on their looks than anything else, and the streets are run by drug lords.
As a result of the wars some people have developed enhanced skills, they’re called metas, and some people fear them because of what they can do.
Grayham is a meta and one of the drug lords’ right-hand men and Creed has been collecting metas for the government for years. Their lives collide.
There are currently two stories in In the Kingpin’s Shadow series. The Lords of Lettuce is the second.
Creed wants his happily ever after with Grayham. They’ve faked his death and it should be as simple as that, right? But before his body double has had time to cool, there’s a knock on the door, and it looks like he and Grayham’s troubles are just getting started.
For reasons no one understands, a young boy has come to ask their help. He isn’t a normal boy, he’s a meta, able to see mere moments into the future, and to see how every action alters that future. He knows men are out to get him, he also knows Creed’s friend is in danger.
Grayham does not want to hunt for some wayward agent. He couldn’t care less if the agents of The Bureau of Whatever killed each other off, but then there is this look on Creed’s face, and he knows he’ll do everything he can to make him smile again. Being around Creed has made him soft, and it’s a weakness he can’t afford. But weakness or not, he’ll do anything for Creed.
Together Grayham and Creed set out to find Sal Minotti before it’s too late. They search the city of Carona, but he’s nowhere to be found, sadly that can’t be said about the gang members from the eastern side.
Grayham ran a hand through his curls then he unlocked the door and pulled it opened in one swift motion. With the gun aimed at the woman’s forehead, he looked around the corridor.
“Ms Hardin?” Grayham almost removed the gun when he looked down at her. The short black hair wasn’t as neat as when she’d been to the interview two days ago, or was it three now? Time melted together in his head.
“Grayham? Oh, thank God.” A tear escaped the corner of her eye, and she hugged a kid to her chest. Thank God? He didn’t think anyone had used those words when coming face to face with him.
He lowered the gun and motioned for them to get inside the room. With one last glance around the corridor, he closed the door.
“What’s going on?” He hadn’t meant to growl but how the hell had Ms Hardin been able to find them? They needed to go; it wasn’t safe to keep Creed here when people could find them.
“Our flat has been trashed. Someone is guarding it.” The kid looked up from where he’d had his face hidden against Ms Hardin’s belly. Grayham forced away the emotions that wanted to surface when he took in the red hair and the blue eyes. It could’ve been him twenty-five years ago. The boy couldn’t be more than five or six, just like Grayham had been when Cham picked him up.
He swallowed around the lump wanting to form in his throat. Since when had he turned into such an emotional mess? He glared at Creed with narrowed eyes. It was all his fault.
He was about to ask Ms Hardin to continue when the kid’s eyes turned white, completely white. Both irises and pupils were entirely gone. Then he blinked and the blue eyes were back again.
“Mummy.” The boy grabbed Ms Hardin’s hand.
“Time to go?”
The boy nodded, and Ms Hardin sent Grayham a pleading look.
“Precog?” Creed asked in a soft voice.
“In a way.” Ms Hardin glanced between them. “There is no time to explain now.”
Creed grabbed the overnight bag. “We’re leaving?”
The look he sent Grayham made him realise he was still staring at the boy. “Yes. Backdoor.”
The little boy started shaking, his eyes going white, then back to normal, then white again. “What’s happening?” Why Grayham whispered he didn’t know, but he did.
“The outcome is changing.” Ms Hardin reached for the door handle.
“They’re here.” The boy’s whisper made the hair at the back of Grayham’s neck stand on edge. He could handle this world; a little boy shouldn’t have to.