by Deana Birch
My next moves were deliberate and filled with purpose. I’d speculated that Fiona would go for a maximum of one hundred thousand. Once a bidding war started, no one liked to lose. Proving they had money to throw around made the sick shits who were buying women and children feel even more important. Warped fucks.
I started in Nanna’s closet. Hat boxes lined the top shelf. One by one I opened them and took out ten thousand in tightly wrapped bills. I was already at half of what I needed by the time I’d returned the boxes to their place. Next were her shoes, and I was almost to my goal from just her accessories. I closed it all with care and stored it back where I’d found it. I grabbed the bag, switched off the lights and jogged down the stairs.
In the kitchen, I opened the freezer and unwrapped the tin foil packets. Another ten grand into my Fiona fund. What had Nanna always said? Can’t go wrong with the classics. I grinned and made my way to the living room and her books. Dante and Mary Shelley provided the rest of the money.
Nanna’s cloth sewing bag lay perfectly plopped next to her reading chair by the back window. I reached in, found the gun and silencer, then sat and pulled out my phone.
Patience. My father had always said patience and a cool head were the keys to killing. I thought about how easy it had been just to shoot the guys from Bradford in their knees. Taking lives would be a fraction of an inch of difference. Although I should probably make it look less professional than I was. Pity… I would have loved to put a bullet between all of their eyes. I tapped the side of my phone then sat back.
Damn it. Mac had played us well. He’d inched into our lives little by little, just waiting for the right opportunity to strike. My father had been right about patience. I just needed to cool my head, because the thought of what Fiona was going through was making every drop of blood in my body burn with rage.
I stood and paced. I was in the wrong state of mind for murder. There was no room in my head for Leo and his frivolous thoughts. That boy and his feelings were officially evicted from my being. Leonardo Ricci had his official first victim…himself.
My phone finally vibrated, and I swiped the blocked number. Anton’s sigh crackled in my ear. He wasn’t nervous. He was pissed, which meant he knew something I didn’t.
“They’re live,” he said and I could practically see him working his jaw.
“And?” Did he really think after years of friendship I didn’t understand his every breath?
“Bidding is low, so we’re waiting.”
I stood and looked out to the back garden, as if the darkness would bring clarity. “Send me the pictures.”
Seeing she was alive would help my composure. If they’d beaten her, marked up her face because she’d fought back, her price would be affected. Buyers wanted to make their own scars, inside and out.
“I don’t think…”
He couldn’t be serious. The days of him deciding anything on my behalf were over, if there’d ever been a day like that to begin with.
“Did you see the pics?” I spat.
“Yeah. She doesn’t look good.” Anton’s voice lacked the confidence I needed from him.
Those bald fucks would rough her up. Maybe she’d put up a fight. They wouldn’t have raped her, thank God. Mac wouldn’t want to have spoiled his goods. So why the fuck would they have beaten her up?
The heat in my chest needed to simmer. “Send them. Now.”
“She’s high.”
My heart stopped before it slammed into my throat, preventing me from speaking. I’d known they would drug her, but I’d held out hope that we wouldn’t have to see her like that. With a junkie mother, Fiona had taken every step in life not to follow that path. Hell, she barely drank. She feared her mom’s addiction would be as genetic as their dark hair. Kids with parents like hers went down one of two paths—the same or the straight and narrow. Fiona’s worst nightmare was being like her mother.
My question was stupid. I’d known there was something wrong the second he’d called, but I asked anyway. “Are you sure?”
“I get people high for a living, Leo. She’s fucked up and the bidders are accusing Mac of finding a junkie on the street. No one believes she’s clean.”
I reached for the gun and tucked it into the back of my pants. “The plan stays the same. How far are you from midtown?”
“Ten minutes.”
I did a quick calculation as I grabbed the bag of money and headed to the back door. “I’ll be where the kid dropped me. Don’t fuck this up.”
Once I’d left the side streets, the theater crowds and their expensive attire allowed me to blend right in. I lagged behind two older women who were trying to hail a cab without much success.
The black SUV stopped at the light and I slid into the back. One of Hirota’s men sat shotgun and Anton was driving. Rafa was next to me, his laptop closed. “We got her. Fifty K.”
That was low—too low—but it didn’t matter. Mac wasn’t going to keep any of my money.
“Give me your bag.” I tapped Hirota’s man on the upper arm and he handed over a designer satchel.
“Where are they?” I asked as I opened my bag and counted out the money.
“They’re still at Mac’s, but I assume they’re beefing up security.” Rafa said and flashed me a map from his phone.
Anton said over his shoulder, “Fifth floor on the side of the river. I’ll take out anyone on the ground. You know what you’re doing.”
His instructions were vague on purpose. He still wanted to be the leader in Rafa’s eyes.
We drove along the river and headed north to the seedier parts of the city. There was no chance of Mac hosting the transaction downtown. There were too many cops. Doing it on neutral territory made sense. I was sure he wasn’t planning on Anton bowing out so easily for his girl.
The problem was that she was my girl, and they had no idea who they’d fucked with. To Mac and his sister, I was just a thug who’d grown up with Anton. They’d never seen me with my father or brother. Hell, only a handful of people had known what my father did for a living and only one of those people—my brother—knew the extent to which I’d been trained.
When we got five blocks away from our destination, I asked Anton to stop the car. I tossed the remaining money into the back of the SUV.
“You know what to do with that, right?” I asked as I reached for the handle.
Anton nodded and we shared a long look that we both knew was goodbye. I shot my gaze to Rafa. “You never fucking knew me.” Then to Hirota’s man. “And you never fucking saw me.”
Hirota’s man was more solemn than Rafa, who was still trying to figure shit out. I climbed out of the car, walked down a dark alley and waited. A silver SUV raced by not ten minutes after. They’d switched cars somewhere.
I waited, because patience was what I had been taught. In that brief moment, I wondered if I could go through with it, take another life. What would it matter? Anton would get Fiona back, she would be safe and Covington Heights would keep their reputation for protecting girls. And yet a slap on the wrist to Mac and Bradford would not be enough. I knew it and Anton was counting on it. And what about Fiona? What kind of justice did she deserve?
No. The part of me that wanted to kill them out of vengeance needed to stay silent. That was the part that could fuck it all up. Instincts and training… There was no room for anything else.
I moved silently down the alley then through another to the back door of the building from the map. Ah, the beautiful irony that I’m going to slip into their home the same way they invaded ours…
When there was a big move as a crew, the fewest possible people were informed. That saved any loose lips. The problem with that was, even though we were on neutral ground and their crew could be called in a flash, they didn’t know shit. That was why there wasn’t anyone on the other side of the door.
I climbed the stairs and peeked at each floor until I heard them on five. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Anton. It was that I couldn’
t risk error. I cracked the door and spied down the dark hallway.
With my eyes closed, I could hear my surroundings and caught the cogs of the elevator grinding on its rise. There were only male voices, which meant that the doctor was gone. Coward. Hirota’s man exited the elevator and carried his bag to an already-open door.
I slipped through the threshold, careful not to make a peep, then waited at the opposite end of the hall. Hirota’s man was playing it perfectly, disgusted with Fiona’s state and telling Mac he was lucky that his boss was taking the girl off his hands. She’d be on a plane for overseas before sunrise.
The drugs must have made Fiona groggy, because she wasn’t fighting at all. As they counted the money, I ducked down the hall. She stood, wrists bound and head hung in a white dress, and despite her state, she struck me as beautiful. But she’d been damaged. She was not herself—definitely not the woman who’d flipped me off or dug her nails into me when we’d kissed, making me wonder if she wanted more or was trying to hurt me.
Cool serenity coiled up my spine and I was sure I would kill them all, but not in front of her. Fi had seen enough.
I glanced over the room. They hadn’t heard me. The two Bradfords and slimy Mac were too busy thinking it was all over. The idiots were cocky.
Movies and books had fight scenes all wrong. They forced the hero to wait for the dramatic battle, confronting his most worthy adversary at the end.
‘You’re not a hero.’ My father’s voice echoed in my head. ‘Get the biggest threat before anyone else, then the others always fall.’
One of the Bradford boys was slightly bigger than the other, so he would die first. I wouldn’t falter or bother to give some speech to Mac about fucking with the wrong man. One, two, three… I would kill them before they even realized I was there. It meant I couldn’t use my knife, but so be it. My thirst for blood was trumped by my instincts. They would die quickly, then I would walk down the stairs, out of the back to the alley and never think of them again.
Because fate had knocked on my door and asked me to pay up… I was a killer and it was time to assume what I’d always known was coming for me.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Fiona
From the corner of my eye, I watched Mac count the money. He’d been pissed that he hadn’t gotten more for me and his bitch of a sister had thrown his initial mistake in his face several times before she’d left. The happy buzz was fading and I missed its comfort and cloud.
The man buying me seemed oddly familiar. Perhaps the criminals in the city were a tight-knit group. But he’d insulted me—my state, my age, too. He’d also said I’d be on a plane within hours, confirming my worst fears.
“Do you want help getting her down to the car?” Justin asked my new owner. Maybe he was planning to take me and the money. He would be stupid enough to do that.
“I can manage just fine, especially since you’ve ruined the merchandise. Hirota will remember this.” The man in the shiny suit yanked at the zip cord around my wrists and I stumbled in his direction.
It was an unnerving thing, resolve. There was no more fight in me, no more tears or sobs. Coming down from the high had left me more numb than the drug itself. I had nothing—nothing to give and nothing to feel. I couldn’t even muster up the hate for Mac that should have been brewing in me. There was no point. Even my heartbeat had given up. It was so erratic that it didn’t know whether to settle or race.
My owner—or middleman or whatever the hell he was—tugged at my bindings again. “We done here?” He jutted his chin to Mac while the bald goons drooled over the amount of cash in front of them. Maybe they would kill Mac and take the money. I didn’t hate that idea. Jesus, my first happy thought in hours is murder.
But the forward motion of the stranger meant more. It was official. I’d been sold. Whatever the price, wherever I was going. I was property. An odd thought popped into my head and drew a tear. Would I ever hear my name again? Even the stupid nickname Leo had given me? My future held nothing of my past, nothing of me. Abuse, that could be my new name. But more likely I’d be called ‘slut’ or ‘whore’—unsuitable for the moment then probably too, too fitting.
Mac walked closer and tipped my chin up. I stared over his shoulder and out of the door, still silently praying Anton or Leo—fucking anyone—would barge in and save me. Anything besides those devilish eyes.
“Bye bye, Fiona.”
Not him… Not fucking Mac saying my name… He’d already stolen so much. The tears I didn’t think I had ran down my cheeks. Maybe I should have told him to burn in hell or spat on his smug face like I’d done to his bitch sister. Something… But that fucking resolve was so strong that it had beaten all the will out of me.
Mac turned to my new owner. “A pleasure doing business with you.” His lips turned up in a wicked grin.
“Fuck you,” The man said to Mac then frowned at me. He spun behind me and pushed me out of the door.
The hallway was dark, and as I entered the elevator with a shove from behind, a tiny movement caught my eye. A dark shadow who looked a hell of a lot like Leo emerged from the side of the door I’d just exited and rolled on his shoulder into the frame.
Clank.
Clank.
A gasp.
Clank.
The doors closed and my heart raced. I searched the man next to me and his blank face for a clue. Whatever figure I’d seen could not have been Leo. I’d manifested something in my head, some shred of wanting. The impending reality of not seeing Violet ever again was too much to bear. Leo was not a hero. And if it had been him, it meant he’d forsaken his future and become the one thing he’d hated. The irony was that I had, too. I was already craving more drugs.
In an even, if not haunting tone, the man next to me said, “When we get outside, you’ll get into the first car. They’ll take you where you’re going.”
I shook my head quickly, trying to rid myself of the fragments of hope that had landed on my shoulders.
No. It was the drugs. They were fucking with me. My lips quivered and my muscles twitched as we rode farther down, the floors passing with small, happy dings that had no place in my consciousness.
The final chime echoed and the doors rumbled open. A single bulb lit the filthy lobby and out of the glass doors two silver SUVs with tinted windows waited—not black, not white.
Fucking hope, she’d made a fool out of me once more.
Shiny Suit opened the door and reminded me, “First car.” Then he gave me a final shove before turning in the direction of the second SUV and hopping into the back.
The back door of the first car opened. “Move your ass, Fiona!”
Steel eyes met mine and I froze—incapable of allowing the information to penetrate. But I could feel my frown and the tears start to pool. More dreaming. It had to be more of my imagination.
The screech of tires peeling out pulled my gaze away as the realization hit me. I ran to Anton, who helped me get in, and Rafa slammed the gas before the door was even shut.
It had been Leo. And he’d killed those fuckers…for me. But where was he?
A new sob built in my chest. It was a thick soup of relief, shock, gratitude and disbelief, and it couldn’t be held back. I convulsed into Anton’s lap. The previous hours of my life could not be erased, but I was free. The ugly wails didn’t stop as Anton rubbed my back and we sped through the city.
When I finally caught my breath, Anton shifted a little and pulled out a switchblade from his back pocket.
“Give me your wrists.” His voice was the softest I’d ever heard it.
I sat up, wiped my blubbery face on my shoulder and obeyed. He cut the tie and I massaged over the imprints it had left.
“You okay?” He brushed his thumb over my cheekbone.
No. Somehow I’d managed not to get raped, but the trauma in my soul made me wonder if I would ever feel safe again. I shook my head.
Anton beckoned me closer with a quick flex of his hands. My body we
nt limp and I melted into him. His hard chest and strong arms welcomed me, and he stroked my hair.
In my ear he whispered, “I’ve got you now.”
I should have been grateful. I should have just let the words sit and not question them. But there was something odd. It was how he had me now. Asking for Leo rang horribly selfish, so I let it slide.
I needed to recover, however I could, and make Violet a priority again. I had to get my head clear. I nestled into Anton and let out several long, slow breaths.
Rafa drove us to the East side, where he parked in a lot next to a Covington SUV.
“Car switch, then we’ll get you home.” Anton offered a tight smile. He clasped my hand and led me out of the back seat.
Home should have been a comfort. Home should have been welcoming. Mine wasn’t. I didn’t want to go ‘home’. I wanted to get the fuck out of my living nightmare.
But I couldn’t let go of Anton’s hand, his warmth. His kindness, whatever the intention, was getting me through the motions—that and the idea of seeing Violet again once I’d cleaned up.
The courtyard of Covington Heights was empty and dark. I walked with Anton and Rafa to our building. We rode the elevator up to their floor. In Anton’s apartment, a few members of the crew were scattered on the couch and at the bar in the kitchen.
“Everybody out. Goldilocks, you move in tomorrow.” Anton raised his eyebrows for anyone to dare ask why, and no one did. Instead, they filed out in an understanding silence.
Leo was gone. But why? A shiver rose up my spine. Anton hadn’t only saved me, he’d reclaimed me as his own. I was in the exact same spot that had started this nightmare. Now everybody knew it.
The empty room mirrored my blank emotional slate. Survival. If I wanted to see Violet again, my selfish wonderful dark place that was calling me with every fiber of my being would need to be fought.
