Luck of the Devil

by March, Meghan

That’s when I see the two younger women cowering on the other side of the room. Fucking hell.

  “Are you hurt?” I bark out the question, and they shake their heads.

  As I turn my attention back to the punk in front of me, he kicks out with one leg, catching me in the groin, and pain shoots from my gut.

  This little fucker is going to be lucky to survive the night.

  I toss him onto the floor in a heap as Koba points his pistol at him. “Move, and he just might fucking kill you.”

  The kid’s eyes widen.

  I look at the friend who backed down as soon as we entered. He can’t hold still. His hands are shaking as he picks at his clothes.

  “What the fuck did you take?”

  “Meth. I think they took meth,” one of the girls says. “We tried to leave, but they won’t let us go.”

  Jesus Christ. These two pieces of shit did all the wrong things.

  “You can go, but write down your names and numbers in case the police need statements.”

  “But—” the girl who spoke starts to protest.

  “You want to stay until the cops get here instead?”

  They both shake their heads.

  Indy speaks from the doorway. “I’ll take care of them. Girls, come with me.”

  I turn around to look at her waving them out of the room. “Make sure the numbers are good before you let them go.”

  She surveys the wreckage of the room and glares at the two guys. “Of course.”

  The kid on the floor growls as the women leave the apartment, and the other one starts pleading, nearly in tears.

  “Don’t kill us. Please, don’t kill us. We were just having a good time and doing what he told us to do.”

  What. The. Fuck?

  “What who told you to do?”

  Koba and I move in on the kid, and I fully intend to scare the shit out of him to get him to spill everything.

  “I don’t know him. He showed us the listing. Told us to rent the place and fuck it up a little, and he’d give us cash tomorrow.”

  Finally not feeling like I’m going to throw up everything I ate for dinner and dessert from the kick in the balls, I crouch next to the destroyed sofa, hovering over him as my brain works overtime. Who would want to screw shit up for Alanna, on purpose?

  “Tell me everything you know.”

  Before the cowering punk can start spilling, the other asshole jumps to his feet and makes a run for the door. Koba tackles him, but the kid strikes out with his foot and kicks the gun from Koba’s hand. It goes skittering across the floor. The kid jerks like he’s going to dive for it, but Koba beats him to it.

  But it was all a fucking distraction. As soon as Koba stands up with the gun in hand, the kid is gone.

  Fucking hell.

  “Follow him!”

  Koba bolts for the door and footsteps pound down the hall.

  I turn on the friend he left behind. “Now you’re really fucked. You’re going to tell me the whole fucking story, from the beginning.”

  38

  India

  The two girls, Kelsey and Krystal, are a little shaken, but totally fine after they’re away from the guys who wouldn’t let them leave while they trashed Alanna’s place.

  I call myself with each of their cell phones and take pictures of their drivers’ licenses. Then I ask them each to tell the story of what happened.

  “They just asked us if we wanted to party,” Krystal says.

  It might not be fair of me, but after getting a better look at their tight dresses and hooker heels, I ask a pointed question. “Did they pay you?”

  The girls exchange glances as if trying to silently come up with a story.

  “Look, I don’t care if you’re working. That’s totally cool. I just want to make sure there wasn’t some other reason you hooked up with them tonight—like you knew they were going to trash the place.”

  Both girls turn to me, and Kelsey replies. “They didn’t pay us . . . but someone else did.”

  “Who?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask for his name. I just took his money.”

  What the hell? None of this makes sense.

  The teapot whistles in the kitchen, and I stand up. “Alanna’s making tea. I’ll be right back. Please, just don’t leave. We really need your help.”

  “Are we going to get in trouble?” Krystal asks.

  From their licenses, both these working girls are only eighteen, and I can’t imagine they planned to become prostitutes when they grew up. It makes me sad, because that could have been me if I hadn’t learned to play cards to find a way to support myself and Summer.

  “You’re not in trouble.” I pause, not fully considering what I’m about to say, but I don’t care. “And if you would prefer not to go back to working for your pimp, I can help you find another job or get you off the island.”

  Both Kelsey and Krystal’s eyes widen.

  “Really?” Krystal says, blinking back tears in her brown eyes.

  I nod. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

  “And I’ve got some nice hot tea for you, girls,” Alanna says, going right into mothering mode, which is exactly what I expected.

  I leave the flat and go back to the efficiency unit, intent on telling Forge what I’ve learned so he can find out who paid the girls. My gut is telling me this whole situation isn’t random, but I have no idea why. Immediately, my mind goes to Bastien . . . but it doesn’t add up. None of it adds up.

  When I peek my head into the trashed apartment, Forge is alone with one of the guys. Koba and the other one are both gone.

  “Jericho.” I don’t know why I say his first name, but it rolls easily off my tongue, and I have to check myself again. He’s Forge.

  His head whips around. “Is everything okay?”

  “The girls said these two didn’t pay them. Someone else did.”

  The guy on the floor scuttles farther into the corner like he’s terrified of what’s coming next.

  “I don’t know anything, man.” His eyes dart from side to side and he shakes with fear. “Alfie was the one who talked to people. I just came along for the ride. He’s the one with the connections. He had us staying at some massive pad up in the hills before tonight, and then said we had to come here to fuck the place up to repay our bill for using the other place.”

  “Why the fuck did you say yes?” my husband asks him.

  “Because I ran out of money, and we don’t go home for three days. Alfie said we wouldn’t have to pay for anything if we did this, and I’d even walk away with cash in hand.”

  “Where’s home?” I ask, even though he’s clearly British from his accent.

  “London. We’re on holiday.”

  “Whose house were you staying at up in the hills?” Forge asks.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t ask. The guy must have boatloads of money, though.”

  Forge looks at me, and I know we’re thinking the same thing. Bastien.

  “Was a red Lamborghini there? Someone coming and going?” he asks.

  The kid nods until I’m afraid he’s going to shake his brain loose from his skull. “Yeah. It was funny because he’d roll up a couple times a day, and each time, he’d only take one suitcase ’cause that’s all that would fit in that bitch. Alfie and I joked that he needed an SUV to save himself some time.”

  Forge steps back and waves at the kid. “Stand up. Give me your wallet.”

  “I told you, I don’t have any more money. A few quid is all. I can’t pay for all this damage. I barely touched nothing. Alfie was going ape-shit. I didn’t do the meth. That shit scares me.”

  “What did you take?” I ask him, because there’s no way he’s clean and sober right now.

  He wipes his nose, and I don’t even need him to answer, but he does. “A little coke. Had some Molly for later with the girls.”

  “Where were you going in the morning?” Forge asks. “Where’s your shit?”

  The kid
points to the corner where two suitcases sit. “We brought it with us, but I don’t know where we were going next. I told you, I don’t make the plans. I’m just along for the ride.”

  “Which case is yours?” I ask.

  “The blue one.”

  I walk to the corner and point to the silver one. “This is Alfie’s?”

  “Yeah.” He nods again before wiping his nose.

  “Should I open it?” I ask Jericho. “Or should we wait for the police?”

  “They’ll fuck up the investigation, if they even bother to open one. No point in waiting.”

  “Okay.” I grab an empty pillowcase, crouch down, and carefully turn the suitcase onto its side and locate the zipper—all without leaving my fingerprints on it and hopefully not wiping off Alfie’s. Once it’s unzipped, I flip it open, revealing brightly colored clothes. Strange choice for a guy, but—

  My thought cuts off as I zero in on the heat-sealed bags of pills and powder.

  “Jesus Christ. There’s enough shit in that bag to get Alfie arrested for trafficking and thrown in jail for years if he’d been here when the police arrived.”

  Forge’s head swivels to survey the contents, and he curses under his breath. He stares down at the guy on the floor. “You weren’t planning on being here when the police came, were you?”

  “Nah, man, we were going to bolt, but Alfie wanted to break more shit, and then you showed up.”

  My brain kicks into overdrive. If they’d bolted before the police arrived, Alanna could have been nailed for this. Blood pounds in my ears, and I wonder what the hell is going on here.

  I flip the suitcase closed, and the luggage tag attached to it flips over . . . and it has my fucking name on it.

  39

  Forge

  “No fucking way.” Indy whispers the statement like an oath.

  “What?” I bolt to my feet. I want to go to her, but I don’t want to let this asshole get away like the one Koba is hopefully dragging back right now.

  She stands and points, her hand trembling.

  “My name is on this suitcase. My address. Everything.” Indy’s voice shakes. “If the cops had gotten here before us, they would’ve arrested me.”

  “Not fucking possible.”

  “Oh my God. Wait.” She drops to her knees and flips the suitcase open again and grasps a blue piece of fabric. “No. No way . . . This . . . How?” Her voice breaks on the last word as she holds up a shirt. I’ve never seen it before.

  “What?”

  She shakes the material in her hand. “It’s mine. This shirt is mine.”

  “How the fuck did someone get it?”

  “I . . . I don’t know.”

  She pulls out more clothes. Underwear. A swimsuit. With each item she removes, my need to kill Bastien de Vere hikes up another dozen notches.

  “Why would he do this?” Indy whispers, and I can’t stay away from her a second longer.

  “Don’t fucking move,” I tell the kid on the floor before I cross the room and pull Indy’s shaking form against me. “He’s trying to prove he can still get to you, even if you’re mine.”

  Indy’s blue eyes widen with disbelief. “This is insanity. He would’ve gotten me locked up for fucking life. There’s no way the cops would believe this wasn’t mine. We have to get it out of here. Now. Everything. The police can’t come here until we know there’s nothing else planted or hidden.”

  I squeeze her tighter before loosening my grip. “I’ll take care of it. Go back to Alanna’s. Get the girls out of there.”

  Indy swallows, and I release her. She pulls the broken door shut behind her as she exits the room, leaving the suitcase with her fucking clothes on the bed. It takes everything I have to shove down my anger and not unleash it on this clueless fuck.

  With my jaw clenched, I face him. “What’s your name, kid?”

  “Reggie.” His voice shakes like Indy’s, which just pisses me off more.

  “Last name?”

  “Monk.”

  “And who the fuck is your friend?”

  “Alfie . . . Alfred Littleton.”

  I take a breath, keeping the rage at bay, even though it wants to rise up and crush him now that I know his name.

  “Does Alfie’s family have connections? Rich friends?”

  Reggie’s head bobs again. “Alfie’s older brother raised him, and he works for a real important guy. Alfie and I came up through school together. He went home with me on holidays because his brother was always working.”

  “Have you ever heard of the de Vere family?” I ask him.

  The kid’s eyes go wide. “Yeah, but how did you know that’s his brother’s boss?”

  40

  India

  When I get back to Alanna’s, the door is shut. From inside, I hear pounding and yelling.

  Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.

  I shove open the unlocked door and find the kitchen is empty, and my sister is outside, next to Alanna, banging on the glass door that leads out to the terrace.

  I rush over to it, unlock it, and yank it open. “What the hell happened?”

  “Those little bitches are fucking awful!” Summer fumes, her chest rising and falling.

  “It’s my fault,” Alanna says, patting Summer’s shoulder. “One of them asked if they could take tea out on the terrace, and I said yes. I had Summer help me carry it out and when we were both outside, they locked the door and ran.”

  “Little cunts. I swear, I’m going to check every street corner until I find them and give them a lesson in hospitality.”

  “Did they steal anything?” I ask, looking around the room. “Plant anything?”

  Summer shakes her head. “They didn’t have enough time. My back was only turned for a second when they slid the door shut, and I realized what they were doing. They just wanted to get the fuck out as fast as possible. Fucking bitches.” My sister bares her teeth like she’s gone feral, and Alanna continues stroking her shoulder to calm her down.

  “It’s my fault,” I say. “I thought they were innocent victims.”

  Alanna comes toward me and pulls me into a hug. “They probably are, darling, but that doesn’t mean they lose their sense of self-preservation. Remember how you were?”

  “That’s why I’m so pissed at myself. I should’ve known they’d pull something like that. Because I would’ve too.” Some of my anger fades as Alanna squeezes me tighter.

  “It’s very sweet that you wanted to help them. You have their names and numbers. Maybe someday you still can,” she says as she releases me.

  “Unless their IDs are fake. Because I sure as shit wouldn’t be out walking the street with my own. You wouldn’t either, Indy.”

  My sister has a point. And even though I have their numbers, they’ll no doubt block mine.

  “I guess you can’t help people who don’t want to be helped,” I say, my tone rueful.

  Alanna smiles at me gently. “Yes, you can. You have to wear them down, just like I did with you. Don’t write them off quite yet, darling. They didn’t hurt us.” She pauses and looks around the room. “And I don’t think they stole anything. They were just scared kids running back to the only sense of security they have.”

  My gut twists at the thought of what they went back to. If, by some miracle, I find those girls again . . .

  Thoughts of saving the two young girls flee as Forge comes to the doorway, one hand wrapped like a manacle around the arm of the guy who was in the efficiency apartment, and the other dragging the silver suitcase. Quickly, I tell him what happened to the girls, and he nods to the kid.

  “Reggie’s got twenty quid on him. He’s offered it up to help pay for repairs, but I told him to use it to get the fuck off the island.” Forge looks to me. “Did you call off the cops?”

  Fuck. “Not yet. Summer, can you call them?”

  “Why would we want to call them off?” Summer’s blond brows dip together as Jericho’s expression turns dark.

  “Because
we’re going to handle this ourselves.”

  I’m thankful he doesn’t tell them about the suitcase. Alanna would lose her mind. My sister fumbles for her phone as his dark gray gaze cuts to Alanna.

  “When is your next rental?”

  “Not until the weekend, but I’ll have to cancel now,” she says, wringing her hands.

  “No cancelations necessary. My staff will take care of it—including removing the damaged furniture and replacing it with new.”

  Alanna blinks at it him like he’s speaking a foreign language. “I can’t afford all that, Mr. Forge. I’ll have to find something used—”

  “I’ll handle it. That’s what family does.”

  The warm feeling that blossomed in my chest earlier comes back tenfold.

  Alanna’s eyes fill with tears. “Thank you so much. You’re truly a blessing, sir.”

  “It’s my privilege. Do you need anything else tonight?”

  She shakes her head, and he turns to Summer.

  “Call off the cops. If they show up, tell them there was a misunderstanding and apologize. Don’t let them in the efficiency apartment. Koba will stay there tonight, so he’ll be close in case something happens and you need help.”

  I crane my neck to look out in the hallway beyond Forge. Sure enough, his blond security guy is standing out there, bent over and hauling in breath after breath like he just ran a marathon.

  A vein ticks in Jericho’s jaw, and it’s obvious he’s not pleased that Koba came back alone.

  He releases his hold on Reggie’s arm and pushes him at Koba before holding out his hand to me. “Let’s walk Reggie out to the bus on our way to the boat.”

  41

  Forge

  Reggie picks up his blue suitcase and bolts as soon as we hit the street, just as I expected he would. Thanks to my text while we were in the hallway, Donnigan was ready for him and is already trailing the kid. Dorsey meets us in front of the building and takes the handle of the silver suitcase from me. Koba heads back inside.