Escape

by Deana Birch

  The calm of my mind settled me. Sure, losing my job would be a setback, but it wasn’t a death sentence. Maybe I could figure out a trade with the blonde girl I’d seen at the park a few times who watched other people’s kids. Hell, maybe she needed some help.

  With a new sense of purpose, I opened my eyes.

  Shit.

  I was officially two stops past my normal one. And it wasn’t like I could just swipe my card and ride back down. Without a paycheck, each fare would be precious until I found a new source of income. I would have to walk the twenty blocks south, which wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t like I had somewhere to be, except for where I had to get off the train. The neighborhood north of Covington was somehow worse than where I lived. Shit.

  The train screeched to a halt and I wobbled a bit with my footing before the doors rattled open. I hitched my bag over my shoulder and climbed the urine-stenched stairs. On the street, Bradford Towers loomed over me. It was a funny thing about the projects. They were basically all the same—giant concrete buildings with a courtyard and a park.

  They even had their own drug dealers. But instead of the black jeans that the hottie criminals in Covington Heights wore, the BTs were all bald and wore oversized white T-shirts. And they didn’t exactly have the code of ‘protect your own’ that we enjoyed in Covington. The BTs had a reputation for loving to be cruel, and I’d had a taste of it in high school when a guy who I’d thought was my boyfriend had really wanted to be my pimp. He’d played an evil game with my lonely heart and I considered myself lucky to have realized what he really wanted before he’d used my body like he’d warped my mind.

  I avoided the congregation of BTs out of the corner of my eye. I’d already had my gang run-in for the day, thanks very much. I picked up my pace and swore at myself for being so stupid that I’d missed my stop. Worse, I’d risked my safety for the cost of a train ride, but there was no way I would head back underground, I would be trapped if they saw me. If he saw me.

  “You lost, mama?” A taunting voice called out. I seemed to be on everyone’s radar today. Fuck. If they figured out I was from Covington, I would be either raped or beaten. Of that, I was sure. And if Justin caught a glimpse of me? I would be both. I broke out in a sweat, half from my quick movements and half from my racing heart, which felt like it had transplanted to my throat. I sped up and glanced over my shoulder. Two of the BTs were headed in my direction with wicked, crooked grins on their ugly faces.

  “Hey, J.D.! Isn’t this your Fiona, all grown up?”

  No, no, no!

  Normally I was a fan of tattoos on men, but the ink on the guys from Bradford Towers screamed the worst kind of danger. One of them had a black, evil-looking something on his cheek and my stomach flipped in fear. With one block between us, my only hope was to run.

  I pumped my legs at a pace I didn’t know I was capable of, not wasting time or breath to apologize to pedestrians who wouldn’t stop the BTs behind me. No one wanted trouble from them. The setting sun flashed between the tall buildings with each street I passed.

  I didn’t even feel guilty as I shoved an old woman out of the way ten blocks into my sprint. I was halfway home and I could see the Covington Heights roofs—a tiny glimmer of hope.

  But the two bald fucks—and now fucking Justin—were gaining on me, and my one-block advantage was shrinking. My bag banged against my back with every step and my muscles burned with the overuse. But I had to keep going.

  The tightness in my chest made it hard for oxygen to reach my lungs and I was sure I was panting. I crossed an intersection and barely missed getting hit by a car, a fate preferable to getting caught.

  Five more blocks.

  I whipped around a corner, giving me a clear view of the courtyard. The irony of wanting to be in Covington when all I’d ever wanted was to get away wouldn’t slow me down.

  The realization of where I was headed must have motivated the assholes behind me, because they’d narrowed my lead to a quarter of the block.

  Each time my foot landed on the cracked concrete, pain shot up my leg. Buildings and people passed by like a blurred rainbow and I allowed myself to believe I might just make it.

  I focused in on the crew. They were around their normal bench with a few girls hanging on—the sight of the previously loathed a bitter pill of relief. With sweat dripping down my back, my heart thumping and my adrenaline flowing full speed, I screamed, “Help!”

  Black Tank Muscle Man from earlier in the day whipped around, clocked the BTs behind me, smacked the Male Model drug dealer to his left and relief washed over me as they bolted in my direction.

  I didn’t dare look over my shoulder, but when the two men in black jeans coming at me slowed to a jog, I knew I was safe.

  Don’t cry, Fiona.

  As I huffed and willed air into my aching lungs, I bent over and pushed into my knees in hopes of not collapsing.

  Black Tank crossed his arms, licked his plump lips and looked down at me. “How?” he asked and raised a thick eyebrow.

  “I…” I let out some slow breaths, willing my heart rate to lower. I was safe. I’d made it. I swallowed and the moisture coated my dry throat. “I got off at the wrong stop.”

  The hottie with the amber eyes next to Black Tank laughed and said, “I’ll allow you to explain it to her, Leo, but if it’s cash, I get a cut. My bad ass scared off those pussies too.” He gave me the once-over, winked and jogged back to his crew.

  Leo narrowed his dark eyes and I wondered if they were more dangerous than the bald shits he’d just scared away. He cleared his throat. “I wasn’t really interested in whatever foolish position you got yourself into to be chased down the streets by rapist human traffickers. You’re welcome, by the way.” A fake smile spread on his stupidly attractive face. “However, I do want to know how, exactly, you plan on repaying us for saving you.”

  Oh, he was a fucking asshole…and smug…and a total dick.

  “I—”

  Leo made a grand gesture of shaking his head. “Don’t even try and sell me some stupid shit about how you didn’t ask. You literally yelled out the word ‘help’.”

  He had to be joking. I owed them something for running a block in my direction? Fuck him. Weren’t they all about keeping their own safe? I snarled and he smiled, a real one. It had no business making him more attractive—and I was a fool for thinking so.

  “Come on,” he said and put his bare arm around my shoulder. He smelled like the kind of soap that only came from a bar. “You’re lucky. The bossman’s in town. You can negotiate our fee directly with him.”

  Chapter Two

  Leo

  The day was turning out to be a fucking beauty. Not only had Golden Boy figured out some online shit that was beyond my scope of understanding, but whatever he had hacked had already started generating money on the virtual black market. Then the hottie I’d been checking out since I’d gotten to Covington had run right toward me, screaming to be rescued.

  Bonus of the day? Those Bradford Tower idiots had taken one look at me and Golden Boy and run in the other fucking direction. They knew who I was—or at least they’d heard what I was capable of. No one but the bossman actually knew who I was, which was A-fucking-okay by me.

  The crew sent catcalls as I ushered the little brunette past them. There was only one way she could pay us back, and I’d bet they’d also seen through her boring-ass uniform and imagined the perfect curves awaiting underneath as many times as I had. The glimpse I’d gotten earlier in the day had my imagination running fucking wild.

  It was pretty cute how she’d tried to push my arm off her shoulder and sworn at me under her breath. Did she know what she’d gotten herself into? Probably not. Did I give a flying fuck? Nope. Was that cold and cruel? Maybe, but I was born a criminal. My moral compass had been smashed into a million pieces before I’d had the pleasure of taking my first steps.

  I opened the clanky glass door of Covington Heights Two and gave the little hottie a ‘gentl
e’ nudge to step inside. She stumbled a little and swatted my hand away. I smiled as I pressed the button to call the elevator. I was a sucker for feisty.

  “Ever been to the third floor before?” I asked, more serious than I felt.

  She glared at me and propped her hands on her gorgeous hips that were in harmonious proportion to her insanely perfect-sized tits. Fucking hell, angry suited the shit out of her. I could have licked that flush right off her pale cheeks.

  She scrunched her nose in full disgust and I wondered if steam might blow out of her ears like in a cartoon. It was hard to hold back my laugh.

  She ground out, “Why the fuck would I go to the third floor? My mom is a fucking junkie. The last place on earth you will find me is asking for any of your fucking product, you miserable prick.”

  Steaming hot—every last curve and hair on her pissed-off body. It really was a banner day.

  But, in fairness, I was a prick. However, I was the farthest thing from miserable. And not just because the grumbling beauty in front of me was going to probably go ballistic when Anton explained the terms of our payment plan, but also because I had escaped a destiny that I did not want.

  For the three months I’d been living in Covington, I’d made my own unattached money and become a part of something greater than just family. I’d made friends—real friends, casual friends, small-nod-on-the-street-as-a-sign-of-respect friends. And unlike those stupid fucks in Bradford, none of our crew used drugs. Sure, we’d kick back a beer at the end of a poker game we’d hosted or get a little drunk after one of our fights, but absolutely none of us were addicts.

  We all worked out at least once a day, either with weights or sparring. We ate real fucking food and, yeah, we sold drugs and hosted back-door dice and card games—but we had some limits. No raping, for example. That was a big no-no for Anton. His mom had been the leader of their crime family for years, and not abusing women had been drilled into Anton for as long as I’d known him. It might have been our only virtue.

  The elevator dinged and the little hottie’s mouth fell open. Yeah, the third floor didn’t look like any of the others. With sleek and polished concrete and the dark wooden doors to the suites, it resembled a luxury hotel instead of the projects.

  “To the left.” I thumbed the direction and watched that fine ass exit in front of me. I bet she didn’t realize that she was half as gorgeous as she was. It wasn’t like someone with her life could afford make-up or nice things. But with her long dark hair, smoking little body, perfectly thin nose and high cheek bones, she was a bona-fide beauty. I had to swallow down the fucking drool as she stomped down the hall.

  In front of the last door on the left, I typed in the security code, and after the small buzz of the unlocking mechanism, I pushed through. Anton sat at the counter and his steel blue eyes scrutinized me, then her. He sat perfectly still, giving away nothing, which almost made me laugh, because I knew exactly what he was thinking.

  The rebellious spark the brunette had boasted in the hallway flickered out with the bossman’s silent power. Her shoulders fell and her eyes widened. Anton was thicker than me, just a little shorter and way fucking crueler than I was. She seemed to understand that in just the small twinkle of his light eyes.

  She turned to me and chewed her bottom lip. Yeah, I was the safer option—which, when put into perspective, was downright hilarious. I walked over to Anton and slapped him on the back.

  “Anton, meet… What’s your name, anyway?” I licked my lips slowly.

  A bit of her fight came back with a glare. “Fiona.”

  I continued, “Meet Fiona. She owes us for protection.”

  Without taking his eyes off Fiona, Anton said, “Well, isn’t she lucky. BTs?”

  “Chased her all the way home. But Goldie and I scared them off. Fucking pussies. I could have used a good fight.”

  Anton glanced at me, but in that fraction of a second, it spoke volumes. I always needed a good fight. The beast inside me was malnourished, starving for the real deal.

  But Fiona would understand nothing of our exchange. He sat back on his bar stool and interlaced his fingers behind his head. “Let’s go ahead and assume that since this is home, you can’t pay us for our protection. And let me tell you something you probably haven’t realized yet. You are now on the top of their list. The minute they catch you alone, they’ll nab you.”

  “Let me tell you something you don’t know,” she grumbled. “I already was at the top of their list.”

  Say what?

  Anton remained unfazed. “Explain.”

  Fiona shook her head, maybe disappointed in herself. “One of them…Justin… He…bullied me in high school. Tried to get me to work for him, if you know what I mean.”

  “How’d you get away?” I asked and Anton shot me a glance. Yes, he was supposed to be the one doing the questioning. I was forever forgetting my place as number two.

  “I didn’t. He went to jail, and by the time he got out, I wasn’t in school anymore, and since I live here, he didn’t have access to me.”

  “Then you really do need us.” Anton’s wicked grin spread easily across his face. Too easily.

  A nicer group of people might have showed her some sympathy. But forgiveness and leniency weren’t exactly traits of effective criminals. The smallest fraction of decency I had left in my heart empathized with her, but she’d known where she’d gotten off the train. She’d grown up on these streets. There was no mystery as to what was happening in Bradford Towers.

  The problem was that those idiots were shortsighted. The more they raped and sold women, the fewer there were around—either by force or by fear—which meant fewer customers and less income. Bradford Towers was becoming a ghost town of single men, and their income depended on their cruelest of intentions, which was why they had started picking off girls who were out of their territory. And to show that we were stronger, we had to keep our ladies safe.

  There was a silent pause where the new information had sunk into Fiona’s being. For as much of a prick as I was, relishing in her spirit-breaking wasn’t my thing. What Anton said next was proof that there was more ice in his veins than mine, that his brutality was more acute than my own.

  He asked, “So, that begs the question, Fiona. How do you plan to pay for your protection?”

  She fluttered those damn lovely eyes with hope that should have been murdered with her upbringing. “I can clean. That’s what I was doing before I got fired. Laundry, ironing, you name it.”

  “You got fired from cleaning?” Anton crossed his arms and shrugged. “I’m not sure that gives you a glowing referral.” His energy shifted to the spooky calm. I didn’t even need to see his eyes to know the glaze was there. Slowly, he asked, “What can you give me that makes this arrangement beneficial to both of us?”

  The desperation washed off her face and was replaced by total comprehension. Her little nostrils flared and her cheeks flushed a deep pink. Yeah, she was pissed again. I had to admit that it was fun to watch.

  Fiona scoffed. “You expect me to fuck you for protection? Is that why you have all those other chicks fawning all over you?”

  Anton shot me a look. He wasn’t around as much as I was and it was true that some girls had started hanging out by the bench. It wouldn’t be something he liked for business. I’d known I should have put the kibosh on it but hadn’t wanted the headache of the bitching from Scooter and Jackson. Bossman wouldn’t bring it up in front of Fiona, but I’d hear about it the minute we were alone.

  Fiona, bless her angry beating heart, snarled at Anton. “How, exactly, is this different from rape? You’re forcing me to have sex.”

  It was my turn to talk. Anton and I had a solid game of good criminal-bad criminal. He gladly passed me the download mic.

  Trying to hide my smugness, I said, “Well, as it turns out, that’s where you have a little bit of an advantage. You see, fucking is a lot more fun when all parties are interested. Normally, we don’t have that problem,
so you’ll just have to solve that bit yourself.”

  Fiona’s eyes scrutinized us both in an offsetting ping-pong. “Well, that’s going to be a bit of a challenge, because I already hate you both,” she said with such vigor that I had to fight my smirk.

  Anton laughed and stood. “See her home and come back. I’m going upstate tonight.” After a sardonic smile to Fiona, he walked down the hall to his room.

  I fake-frowned. “I save your life and you hate me? I’d call that pretty fucking ungrateful.”

  Fiona turned and headed for the door. With her hand on the knob, she said, “You tricked me.”

  I stepped in and crowded her space, and I didn’t imagine that she shivered. Even with no make-up and a sweat-stained face, she was beyond pretty. I tried to be gentle, though it wasn’t in my nature. My soft side was a thorn bush for a normal person. “You asked for help. I gave it. You grew up here. You know that nothing in life is free.”

  “You’re no better than those bald fucks. You prey on the weak to make yourself look strong.”

  I resisted the urge to touch what was sure to be satin skin. God, she was going to be the most interesting thing that had happened to me in Covington Heights. I welcomed the challenge more than she’d ever know. Because, while I liked the crew and the escape from my former life, I was bored. Tormenting Fiona was officially my new hobby.

  With all the gentleness gone from my voice and gaze, I narrowed my eyes. “I can drop you off at their corner and you can see for yourself.”

  “Fuck you.”

  I leaned in and whispered in her ear. “That’s the point, little mama.”

  Her chest rose and fell against mine, and if I cut through all her bravado, I was sure I’d find heat. And, for fuck’s sake, her tits grazing my chest with her angry huffs was heaven. My dick even twitched to life.

  But I had shit to do and orders to follow. I stepped back and painted a smug expression on my face. “Come on.”