Dark Victory: A Trigger Cullen Novel, #1

By AJ Adams

Powerful, cunning Trigger Cullen is the enforcer for his family's crime empire. He handles security, debt collection, and elimination with brutal efficiency. He does what it takes. He never has regrets.

 

But everything changes when his cousin Alex decides to go legit. He wants to turn their successful but bloody business into a respectable and even richer and more powerful one.

 

Trigger is sceptical, but he sees the benefits: less violence, more money, and a chance to be with the seductive, fun-loving Emily Fielding.

 

But Alex's plan backfires. A vicious psychopath with a taste for torture targets their family. He has an army of thugs behind him, ready to wipe them out.

 

Trigger has no choice but to fight back. It's a war with no rules, no mercy, and no escape.

 

Can he protect his family and his future? Or will he lose everything he holds dear?

 

A hard-boiled tale full of twists and turns, Dark Victory is a noir thriller that will keep you on the edge of your seat. Don't miss this exciting prequel to No Mercy by AJ Adams!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ellen Whyte
• Release date: May 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223677628

AJ Adams

AJ Adams writes twisted love stories set in the violent world of the Cartel, Camorra, Belial's MC and Prydain. All AJ Adams novels are self-standing and although some feature the same families, you need not read them all - but it would be awesome if you did. If you enjoy these novels and want to stalk, please know that AJ is the pen name for Ellen Whyte. Ellen married her best friend and moved to the tropics where they are living their own Happily Ever After. When she's not writing, she's cooking and pandering to her rescue cats Target, Swooner and Tic Tac.

Book preview

Chapter One

Y es! Yes! Harder, Trigger ! Fuck me!

Black hair all over the pillow, nails raking down my back, and hips juddering against mine. She put on a fine performance, but the screaming was a bit much.

Yes, baby, yes!

Body banking, heat racketing up to volcanic. The libido focuses on what matters.

You're the best. I'm coming!

I exploded into her, all consciousness on sweet release. Clutching the firm, perfumed flesh, pumping hard as I sucked in shuddering breaths.

Ooh, you're a good time, Trigger. She kissed me. Hung like a stallion and with the moves to match.

I pulled out, dumped the condom in the basket by the bed, and collapsed. Bloody hell, Millie. Does that line ever work?

I meant every word. Cross my heart.

Pull the other one. My ear was still ringing. Next time, dial it down, okay?

Sure, big boy.

Millie Dean never lets up. I guess that's why she's a pro. The kiss was unusual, though. Not unpleasant, but unexpectedly personal.

She snuggled up, another new. You went sailing. Did you have a fun time?

Yes. Definitely the girlfriend experience. And as it had been a holiday, no harm in replying. I went up north to Scotland.

Ooh, nice! She made it sound real, too.

The chitchat was interrupted by my phone beeping in warning. Time to go. I was in and out of the shower, and pulling on and buttoning my shirt in less than five minutes. Call me a boy scout, but I'm efficient. Millie, we need to clear this room in fifteen minutes, so shower and scoot, okay? I reached for my wallet.

Uhm, Trigger? No need to pay me.

A kiss, way over the top drama, conversation and now the offer of a freebie. Running across her in the casino had not been a coincidence. Nor had her suggestion that we hook up. What's going on?

I'm six foot two, built, and with one thing and another, intimidating. Millie had sought me out, softened me up, but from the wide brown eyes and suppressed shiver, she was having second thoughts. Don't be mad, Trigger. Promise?

Shit. Your fucking ex again? Is he hassling you?

No. But Sue says she doesn't like his friend.

Sue. The Cullen Majestic has two hundred employees and as chief security officer I knew all of them. But it puzzled me. Sunniva from accounts? How did she run across Shifty?

I meant my Susan, my daughter.

Right. Seven years old. Cute as a button. This was trouble. Jim Duggen, known as Shifty for damn good reason, was a dope smoking tosser who'd sent Millie out turning tricks so he could sleep all day and play video games all night. When she'd finally dumped him, he'd turned nasty, beating her and trying to scare her into handing over her earnings. Turns out, I'm scarier.

Sue wants to see her dad, but the last few times he's had this friend round. Sue is frightened of him. Millie ran a nervous hand through her hair. I asked him to keep visits on a one-on-one, or to have them at my place.

Seems fair enough.

Shifty refused, Millie burst out. Trigger, I don’t want my Sue hanging out with Shifty's druggy mates. I don't want to bother you, but Sergeant Grimstead won't help and if the courts find out that I'm a tart, they'll take her away.

They'd better not fucking try. Millie was a good mum, working hard, keeping her kid in school, and never a hint of drugs or trouble in her own home. But with judges being a bunch of fucking hypocrites, and Grimstead, our most senior police officer, being a total lowlife, the law would persecute her if she spoke up. I'll fix this.

She exhaled with relief. Thanks, Trigger.

Is Shifty still living above the Bedraggled Duck?

Yes.

When is Sue due to see him?

Tomorrow.

Okay. I'd do the job that night. From now on, Shifty will phone you and you decide where he sees Sue.

Thank you! She threw her arms around me and I got another smacker. I owe you one.

We never spoke.

Millie bit her lip. Of course not. I'd never tell, Trigger.

The nerves came from knowing what I’d do to Shifty. Good. They would keep me safe as I went about my business. I tucked the cash into her hand. You're a terrific mum, Millie. And to make her smile, And the best in the business.

She posed with one hand on her hip, shaking magnificent tits at me and drawling, You'd better believe it, big boy.

Typical.

With almost an hour before my afternoon meeting, it was a perfect time to run an impromptu security check around the hotel. The camera on the back loading dock was on, and the CCTV security shift manager pinged me the instant I opened the door. The man on the kitchen back door was alert, as were the two in the carpark. They were dedicated, efficient and I let them know I appreciated it.

Going inside and seeing the throng of guests, I felt even better. The lobby café was filled with visitors having afternoon tea. The pool, kiddy play area and marina were overflowing. It was a big weekend at the Majestic, but all my security was in place and the guests were happy and relaxed.

Stepping into the casino, I found every blackjack and poker table packed. The slot machines were crowded too. It was an unusual sight for a Wednesday afternoon, but the hotel was chock-a-block because we were running a three-day regatta complete with shows, concerts, and a fancy dress ball.

Hey, Trigger. My cousin Karma appeared at my side. You're back. Good time?

The best. The highlands are beautiful at this time of year. Purple and white with heather.

He made the right noises but my cousin's idea of beauty doesn't run to mountains. As the Majestic’s financial director, it was the sight of an overflowing casino that warmed him. Full house.

Behind him, the crowd at the VIP poker table wailed in disappointment as the bloke opposite the dealer threw down his cards. Our whale is losing?

Karma signalled the bar. He's down two hundred thou.

Well, let's hope his luck turns.

That may sound odd, but when you run a casino, you want the punters to think they can beat the house. They can't, not if they play regularly, but we make sure they win often enough so that the hope keeps them playing - and dropping their cash into our coffers.

Good fortune and filthy lucre. Karma quoted our family motto ironically.

I don’t recognise him.

John Sinclair. He’s a Macau regular.

Two hundred thou is a chunk of change.

He made three mil in the stock market last year, Karma shrugged. He can afford a flutter.

But my eye was on the twisted mouth and narrowed blue eyes. Sinclair was worried. That's never good.

You checked him out?

Karma whipped out his phone. Here.

Sinclair's passport was new, but legit. And a note from Patrick Wong in Macau confirmed Sinclair was a regular.

I took out my phone and used a backdoor that led me into the Wong casino’s membership list. Patrick would throw seven fits if he knew I snooped, but I like to be certain.

Sinclair checked out. He had a history with the casino. The photo was recent.

At the table, Sinclair lost again. This time, the nerves were straight up visible. Holy hell. Didn’t see that coming! He was down another two thou.

Poppy Bell, our VIP hostess, rushed over bearing champagne and chocolate covered strawberries. As she fussed and commiserated, the frown turned upside down.

Poppy wants a promotion, Karma informed me.

I eyed the long legs, bum length auburn hair and bright eyes. She is hardworking. Popular too. We should do our best to keep her.

Agreed, Karma sighed. But money won't do it. She's bored.

You'll figure it out. I slapped him on the back. See you at the meeting.

The lobby was thronged with guests, so I went out the back and took the service lift. Stepping out on the executive floor, I walked along the corridor, automatically testing the pantry and housekeeping cubby were properly closed, before turning into the plush carpeted public corridor.

She was five doors down, tugging furiously at a towel caught in the room door. Her hair was soaking wet and so was the towel. The wet cotton hinted at terrific curves and the legs were spectacular.

Goddamn bloody door. Hell, hell, hell.

Hello.

She jumped back with a squeak of surprise, leaving the confines of the towel. The curves were fantastic. Rich breasts and beautiful pale silky skin. Bugger! She turned around, trying to hide in embarrassment, and I got to see the rest of her. A lovely long back and pert bottom. She peeked over her shoulder. Oh dear God, kill me now! Huge blue eyes too.

I slid off my jacket and passed it to her. Hang on. I took out my master key card. But the towel was rammed in tight. One second. I put my shoulder to the door. There you go.

She shot past me, my jacket only barely covering her bum. Don't look! And dived into the bathroom.

The snack tray out in the corridor told the story. A helpful girl. I glanced around, clocking the single bag. I reviewed the glorious body. Great, there'd been no wedding ring either.

Thank you for rescuing me. She was beetroot still but smiling as she held out my jacket. I'm so clumsy, I swear I'd fall out of bed and miss the floor. I tripped over my own feet while setting the room service tray outside. When I went arse over tit, the door shut behind me.

It happens more often than you might think.

You are kind. She smiled. So, are you a dashing burglar on the prowl or security?

Fun and clever. Which would give me the chance to take you for dinner?

The blush deepened. Really?

But she clutched the bathroom robe a little tighter. That's being female for you. She suddenly realised I was a head taller and alone with her.

I stepped away, reaching for the door. I'm Max Cullen. Chief of security.

The smile broadened, and she relaxed. Hi, Max. I'm Emily Fielding. She realised. Cullen? As in Cullen Majestic?

It's a family business.

With the door open, she was chatty. It’s a terrific hotel. I wasn’t expecting this many people.

She had soft hands and not the trace of a tan. Not a girl who spent her days at sea. I spotted a Mac and a stack of greeting cards on the top of her open travel bag. You’ve come to paint the regatta?

Partly, but actually– She blinked. Are you a mind reader?

My friend is an artist. He says Macs are the best. Also, there’s a streak of paint on your bag.

She glanced at the bed and smiled. You are clever. I design greeting cards.

You’re here on business?

She hesitated. Kind of. I'm here to check out the regatta. My boss thinks it may be good for a new line. But I’m also meeting family.

I kept my eye on the prize. If you’ve time before or after, may I buy you dinner?

I can't tonight.

Drinks after dinner?

It may be late. It might have been a brushoff, but then she bit her lip and muttered. Or it might not.

There was some trouble there. I hope it goes well for you.

She beamed at me. You are kind. Normally I'd say yes, but I'm just not sure what will happen next.

Definitely a family drama. I examined the sweet curves. Then how about lunch tomorrow?

She smiled. I’d love to. She darted off and picked up her phone. Give me a missed call?

Absurd, but I was a kid again, flush with success at having a girl agree to a date. What kind of food do you like?

The heavenly eyes sparkled. Everything!

A sweetheart through and through. As I took in the lovely smile and happy eyes, my heart skipped a beat. I'm not into woo-woo, but I felt an absurd connection. Would you like to go out sailing? We can take a picnic.

She clapped her hands in genuine joy. I'd love to!

I'd borrow Quentin's boat, the Kandinsky. Meet me tomorrow in the marina café around one.

It'll be such fun!

Bring a hat and a shirt with sleeves. If it's sunny, you may burn.

Okay, will do. Emily giggled, mischief dancing in her eyes. Think you'll recognise me with my clothes on?

I was still smiling as I entered the boardroom.

Trigger, you're back. Great! Good trip? Alex was standing by the window overlooking the marina. He gestured at the boats darting about below. Isn't it beautiful? We'll hog the headlines all week. The Cullen Regatta will be as big as the Melbourne Cup.

Thirty floors below, fifty sailboats flitted across Ringmere Bay. You did a great job, cousin. The casino is bursting at the seams. The hotel is fully booked, too.

And yet, you managed lunchtime delight in the rose suite.

Alex always knows what's going on.

The occupant is a late check-in. Seems she’s having her hair done.

I know what's going on too.

Alex grinned appreciatively. Does my sister know you’re snitching her room?

Cousin, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

Alex clapped me on the back. You're a chip off the old block, Trigger. His Lordship said so this morning.

Two years before, His Lordship, our grandfather, had given up his suite at the Majestic and moved permanently to the Hall, a fine property outside Ringmere. It had given Alex a chance to dive in deep, running the business from day to day.

The official announcement that His Lordship had retired had come a month before. To cement the handover, our grandfather took Colleen, his mistress, on a six-month trip around the world, leaving Alex to fully realise his position as CEO of Cullen Enterprises. But despite the paperwork and half a planet of distance, the old man was still the head of our clan.

Alex gazed at the yachts again. It's hard to believe we're selling off the Empress and the Rotterdam operation.

It had been his idea and His Lordship had approved it, but the decision still unsettled me.

Alex knew. It's the best strategy, Trigger. With increasing regulation and supercomputing, we need to protect the revenue stream.

Trafficking booze, cigars and product threatens the casino.

Precisely. With His Lordship retiring, we rebrand.

It really didn’t sit right with me. From pirates to solid citizens.

My cousin thought my concern was personal. We've got plenty of business to keep you busy. And with the extra cash from the sale, we expand the marina, the brewery and buy more businesses.

I know.

Alex sighed. His Lordship hesitated too.

It’s a new direction.

We looked out at the marina. Our grandfather's grandfather had landed there in Edwardian times. Recognising the natural bay and sleepy village as a potential goldmine, he built a jetty, bought a boat and smuggled wine, brandy and cigars from France.

His son had developed the business, expanding into grass and cocaine, and his son, our grandfather, had done the same.

His Lordship considered going big in the 1950s in the style of the crime families in the US. Being high profile is great for the ego and it gets you more money. However, the more notorious you are, the more attention and trouble you attract.

Our grandfather took the prudent path, focusing on being a local player with deep roots in the community. While the Gambinos and their ilk fought each other and their government, my family quietly amassed a fortune and the power that would keep it in our hands.

The Cullens rule Ringmere. We have our signature brewery that produces Cullen Stout and a dozen microbrews, our five-star hotel, the Majestic, that incorporates a casino, the Annexe that offers luxury serviced apartments and a shopping mall, and our very own marina. We also own a string of businesses from pubs to hairdressers.

We're stinking rich, we do what we want when we want, but we don't make noise about it. There is our family motto, 'Good fortune and filthy lucre!', and we crush anyone who challenges us, but for the rest, we quietly go about our business.

I put my case again. I'm not against going legal, but we should scale down and let go gradually instead of selling it all off in one go.

I trained as a plumber, whereas Alex took a business degree and an MBA, but we both grew up in the family business. Me following my dad in security and Alex following his dad in management. As a result, we developed different viewpoints on how to handle things.

I'm concerned, I said again. I think you've not factored in the security angle.

Alex frowned. We should capitalise on our assets.

The ship can be sold, but selling our business contacts is handing over too much clout.

The Rotterdam organisations will find it a headache. But it won't bother us in Ringmere.

It may come across as weakness.

Ringmere is hardly London. The Bridgeton Mob, the Razors and the Scuttler Boys are too small to threaten us.

Everything you say is true. I just feel weird being legit, I admitted.

If it helps, we can still threaten to blow people away.

Plonker.

Alex slapped me on the back again. The Koreshi brothers will be here soon.

Of all people to sell to.

Yeah, Zamir Koreshi is a tosser. But he's paying an outrageous price.

Aha.

No matter what he does, we take his money, and he goes home alive.

Sure. You've mentioned this like five hundred times already.

You're not called Trigger for nothing. You watch your temper.

Yes-yes-yes, I won't start a war.

The door opened and our cousins, Tank and Karma, barrelled in.

Zamir's limo just pulled up. Karma put down a sheaf of papers. Here we go. Contracts, in triplicate.

Tank checked the security feed on his phone. Zamir's here.

I was checking, too. Zamir's ride, a very showy silver Mercedes-Benz S-Class limo, pulled up at the front door. He brought his brothers. There’s a driver too. But who’s the bloke that’s with them? I clicked through to facial recognition. He's not part of his organisation.

Alex frowned. New man?

We'll know soon enough. But I didn't like it. Unexpected is dangerous. That might sound paranoid, but as chief of security for Cullen Enterprises, I had developed a fine radar for trouble. This felt off, and I was edgy.

Tank shared my bad vibes. Zamir has a suite, and his brothers have deluxe doubles with ocean views. Trigger, you prepped their rooms, right?

Yes. All done. Out of habit, I checked my phone. The security cam feeds were streaming perfectly. The cameras covered the beds, the desk and if they left the doors open, we'd catch balcony action too. If any of them fart, we'll know about it.

But the twitches wouldn't quit.  

Alex Cullen! My excellent friend! Zamir Koreshi smarmed his way through the boardroom, trailing scented hair oil in his wake. If he ever fell overboard, the oil spill would rival Deepwater.

Zamir, you're looking fit. Alex can smarm with the best of them.

Zamir stood back. You know my brothers.

We did, embracing them as if we were mates. Ramiz, the accountant, Enver, who ran their tech, and Roel and Dion, who were ostensibly management but who acted as Zamir’s trouble-shooters, meaning that they blew away trouble.

But you’ve not met Jaren Gashi, our new chief of logistics, Zamir said casually. He’s our cousin.

The Koreshi brothers were practically clones: big boned, pale skinned, dark hair and dark eyes. Not only was Gashi new, but he was a foot shorter, wiry, with blonde hair and pale blue eyes. I had the feeling I had seen him before, not in person, but in a photo.

Alex made big with the introductions. Jaren, it’s great to meet you. I’m Alex. This is Gordon, Frederick and Max, but our friends call them Karma, Tank and Trigger. We’re all cousins. Karma is finance, Tank is operations, and Trigger is security.

You’re a family business and so are we, Zamir exclaimed. We have so much in common.

Although I smiled with my cousins, all my senses warned Gashi was trouble. Pretending to make a call, I checked into the security feed, copied stills, and ran them into our facial recognition programme. Nothing. It meant this was his first time in Ringmere.

My spider senses tingling, I opened a backdoor into the National Crime Agency’s database. I used it to monitor local investigations and also to dip into their records to check out new clients and employees. The authorities would identify him. I was certain the man had form.

What a day. Zamir was loud and happy. I brought you a gift. Raki, fifteen years old, and made from plums. It’s truly special. I thought you’d love an iconic Albanian drink.

Alex was delighted. Look at that bottle. It's beautiful. I got you this twenty-year-old single malt.

Cullen single malt? Zamir exclaimed. You have a distillery?

We have a small share in one, Alex smiled. We get a run of single malt every ten years. A legacy from our great-grandfather.

There was more light chat, all of it friendly, but my concern grew. Nothing I could put my finger on, but something was not right. My data request to the National Crime Agency ticked over. The system was slow, clogged with thousands of requests for ID.

Alex got down to business. Here’s the contract. It’s as we discussed. The Empress is yours, as are all our assets in Rotterdam. It includes the warehouses and the licenses.

Fantastic. Zamir pulled out a fountain pen. Alex, want to sign first? Or shall we do this together?

My cousin glanced at me. As I couldn't think of a reason to stop this, I nodded. They signed, exchanged papers, signed again, fussed as Tank and Karma witnessed, and then Ramiz set up the transfer.

Zamir displayed the screen, Here we go: straight into your account.

A second later, Karma nodded. All present and correct.

The official above-board business was done. Now for the real deal.

Alex reached into his pocket. Zamir, here's the list. He passed over a thumb drive containing the details of our Rotterdam operation. The spreadsheets listed it all, including every bent copper and the blokes who could fix up last minute crew for sailing ships.

Zamir took a quick look at his laptop, and then nodded. It's a deal.

And now the payment. This time Ramiz produced a small laptop. Karma opened his, too. A flurry of typing, a ten second pause, and the seven-figure extra payment hit the Cullen account in the Cayman Islands.

The bottle went round again.

Good fortune and filthy lucre!

"Gëzuar!"

I prefer to drink Scotch with friends, but the rich notes of wood and peat warmed my soul.

We keep the name, but we add in ours, Zamir announced. The Koreshi Empress will be a sign of our enduring friendship.

A fine idea, Alex agreed.

Zamir gazed out the window. So many beautiful boats. That's success.

Alex smiled, a real one this time. It's a special day for us. We're having the first Cullen Regatta.

To celebrate your taking over, Zamir nodded. His Lordship will be proud.

The opening ball is tonight, and the first race kicks off tomorrow, Alex said politely. We have a suite for you, if you'd care to attend. As my personal guests, of course.

Zamir threw his arms out in well-feigned delight. Fantastic. We hoped you'd ask.

Ramiz was chatty. I packed my tux.

Delighted, Alex said.

Zamir elbowed me cheerily. Will you be there? You know, we're still talking about the time you took charge of the Empress and told the captain to take her the long way home and deliver to the back door.

The forecast was for storms at Dover and I had a yen for Scotland. We Cullens originally hail from the West Coast.

Zamir burst out laughing. I hear that the National Crime Agency hung around Dover all day and all night.

I can't think why. The Empress is a pleasure craft.

Zamir elbowed me again. She sure is built for pleasure, triple hull and all.