Absolute control kicked in, which is something I hadn’t felt in weeks.
Using the pick from my lock pick set, I gently pushed a hole through the plastic coating before poking my head up to take a look outside.
Still confident that I was on my own, I went back to work, carefully feeding the wires of the GPS through the hole I’d made before splicing it together. I gave the ignition wire the same treatment, bandaged the wounded electrics with some tape and secured the tracker deep under the dashboard.
The whole wicked deed had taken less than three minutes, but holding off on the victory celebrations turned out to be a wise move.
The steel door of the warehouse slid open, and the situation changed in an instant. The man who’d exited the warehouse couldn’t see me through the tinted windows, but I had the perfect view of him casually strolling toward me.
Trying to keep a cool head as I forced the steering column back into place wasn’t working out. Desperate to finish up and get out, I raised my knees, smashing the plastic column back into place. I ignored the crack it made. I was more interested in getting the hell out of the car.
Backtracking, I gave everything I’d touched a quick wipe with the hem of my T-shirt, opened the door and dropped to the ground.
Staying hidden isn’t always about sticking to the shadows. Sometimes the best place to hide is in the brightest light you can find, and in order to do that, I needed to make some noise.
Showing a complete lack of care and consideration for the gift Melito had given me, I snapped the bracelet off my wrist. Cowry shells tumbled all over the sandy ground, and in a move designed purely to save my own skin, the theatrics began.
“I can’t believe it broke!” My loud wail was pathetic but effective. It masked the thud of the car door closing, but drew the attention I needed. I crawled around on my hands and knees pretending to pick up the shells.
The patrolling goon made his way over. “What are you doing here?” he growled. “No one is supposed to be here.”
Pretending to be caught by surprise, I jumped at the sound of his voice.
“Help me find my shells,” I snivelled. “My bracelet broke.”
He hardly looked sympathetic. He didn’t look familiar either. Obviously Louis’ army of henchmen extended further than Iron Mike and his simple mate.
This man was tall – huge, in fact – but kind of gangly, thanks to the oversized jersey he was wearing. I realised it was a common fashion trend amongst Kaimte thugs, despite the forty-degree weather.
“Get up,” he ordered.
I looked him up and down as best I could. Unable to spot any weapons, I decided to protest a bit louder. “I need to find my shells.”
Unmoved by my plight, he grabbed me under my arms and hoisted me to my feet. “You’re with the white boy,” he speculated.
Something about his tone troubled me. The shells were forgotten, and so was the crying act. “Yes,” I replied. “Where is he?”
“He’s having a bad day.”
I couldn’t decide if it was his choice of words or his sickening grin that brought on my sudden bout of nausea. Either way, it didn’t matter. I was no longer in control of the situation. With a firm hand on my shoulder I was marched across to the warehouse. I held my breath the whole time, dreading to think what might be waiting for me inside.
The worst scenario I came up with wasn’t nearly as bad as the reality.
I saw Mitchell before I’d even made it through the door, sitting on the floor slouched against a stack of boxes. The front of his grey T-shirt was saturated in blood, and when his head lolled back, it wasn’t hard to work out why. In the fifteen minutes since I’d last seen him, his perfect face had been pulverised.
“Why did you bring her here?” Louis’ furious voice echoed throughout the vast space. “Get her out.”
Rough fingers dug into my shoulder as the man behind me tried to obey his boss. I refused to move, cementing my spot by shoving him away. Lashing out with a backhanded slap was his plan, but Louis intervened before he could follow through. “Leave her,” he yelled.
I turned, looking at him for the first time. “What have you done?” I hissed through gritted teeth.
He dared to smile at me. “There are rules in Kaimte, Shiloh,” he explained. “Men of my standing command respect.”
If that was his justification for thrashing Mitchell to within an inch of his life he truly was a monster, and I had to tread very carefully because of it.
In any desperate situation the temptation is to act fast, but running to Mitchell’s side wouldn’t have been the wisest move. My first step was to assess the situation and figure out how bad things really were, which proved that there was no longer a line between who I was and what I did for a living. I couldn’t be loving and compassionate. I had to be effective.
“Respect is earned where we come from,” I bitterly replied.
Louis ambled toward me. I used the time it took him to reach me to scope out the surroundings. Compared to the bright light outside, the warehouse was dangerously dark. I could see two men lurking in the shadows, but it was the ones I couldn’t see that worried me.
“Mitchell had a debt to settle,” he casually explained. “He disrespected me by showing up to our meeting with empty pockets.”
“There’s more to it than that,” I insisted, shaking my head.
In a move I wasn’t expecting, Louis reached out and gently brushed the back of his hand down my cheek. As revolted as I was, I held fast and didn’t move. Whether he realised it or not, he’d explained everything without uttering a word.
“This has nothing to do with money or respect,” I accused. “You’re jealous. That’s why you hurt him.”
“I have much to offer a woman like you, my beautiful friend.” He reached again, tucking a wayward piece of hair behind my ear – and I let him.
“Friend?” The word was like acid on my tongue. “How can we be friends after this?”
Louis exhaled heavily as if the whole dreadful saga was nothing more than an inconvenient interruption to his day. “How can I make it up to you?”
Such a ridiculous question didn’t deserve an answer, but it didn’t get that far anyway. Mitchell coughed, a wretched choked sound that caught everyone’s attention. The second cough was worse. His head jerked forward and a spray of blood splattered across the cement floor.
“See to him,” said Louis, taking a step back and waving me forward.
I didn’t waste another second; barely letting my feet touch the ground as I rushed over to Mitchell. I dropped to my knees, taking his face in my hands. “Can you stand?” I asked in a tiny voice.
“Shiloh,” he mumbled, grabbing my wrist. I doubt he could see me. His eyes were so swollen that he probably couldn’t see anything. “I knew you wouldn’t wait in the car.”
I might’ve laughed if I wasn’t so appalled by his appearance. He was a mess, and I wasn’t sure where to begin when it came to fixing him. I quickly checked his face, concluding that most of the blood was coming from his nose.
“I’m going to get you out of here,” I quietly promised.
He managed a nod.
At that moment, Iron Mike decided to make an appearance, wandering in from somewhere behind us. Ordinarily his presence wouldn’t have bothered me, but Mitchell’s reaction turned my indifference to horror. In a move that looked painful, he shuffled to the side as if he was gearing up to defend himself.
I grabbed his hand in a feeble attempt at keeping him still. “Did he do this?” I whispered, giving a tiny nod in Mike’s direction.
Mike didn’t notice the nod Mitchell gave. No one did. Louis and his cronies stood a few metres away casually chatting amongst themselves as if we weren’t even there.
As far as I was concerned, my alliance with Iron Mike was over. He was a brute, and no less dangerous than Louis. Perhaps he was worse, which was a troubling notion that I refused to deal with. For now, my focus needed to be on Mitchell.
/> “I’m going to get you out of here,” I promised for a second time.
“Ready when you are, lady,” he mumbled.
Protector
MITCHELL
It wasn’t my first run-in with Louis’ brand of cruelty, but it was certainly the most vicious. If not for the fact that I’d been completely blindsided, I might’ve been disappointed in the low number of punches I got in.
It wasn’t merely a fist that flew at me, it was a fist wrapped in a length of chain, served up by Louis’ number one henchman. Considering he regularly drank at my pub – for free on more than one occasion – I could only assume he was completely without conscience.
The objective hadn’t been to kill me. If it had been, I would’ve been dead. The malicious beat down had nothing to do with money or beer either. It was about Shiloh – more specifically, the fact that she was spending time in my bed rather than Louis’. Calling him out on it earned me the hardest blow of the lot, and as I lay on the floor in a heap, I was fairly sure the damage I’d suffered because of my smart mouth was permanent.
By the time Shiloh appeared, I was out of it. I could barely breathe, let alone speak, but if I had been capable of words I would’ve told her to run as far and fast as she could.
And she would’ve ignored me.
Strangely, she was less afraid of Louis now than she’d ever been. The meek girl who’d sat quaking at the end of my bar was now a distant memory. The woman crouched beside me was playing on a whole new level.
Despite the hostile situation, she wasn’t interested in peacekeeping. She wasn’t in the mood for negotiating, either. After surveying the damage to my face, she rose to her feet and made a beeline straight for Louis. “Are you satisfied?” she yelled. “Has his debt been settled?”
As expected, the goon squad rushed to their boss’ side, eager to protect him from the angry girl. With a click of his fingers, Louis stood them down. I tried to stand Shiloh down too, but the words came out in a jumbled groan that she paid no attention to.
“It’s about respect,” Louis replied in the smooth tone he reserved only for her.
“I have no respect for you,” she shot back.
Ignoring the pain it caused, I squinted, trying to get a clearer view of the massive shift in power that was taking place in front of me.
Like a love-struck teenager, Louis worked hard to placate her. “I’m prepared to make it up to you.”
Shiloh glanced around the warehouse, perhaps pondering her next move. “I want our beer delivered to the Crown and Pav before opening time tonight,” she finally demanded.
“Very well,” he agreed.
“All of it,” she clarified.
“Of course.” Louis threw his arms out wide. “See? No real harm done.”
That was a lie. I was bleeding like a stuck pig and seemed to have lost the ability to swallow. I’m no doctor, but I was pretty sure it would take more than a few Band-Aids and an aspirin to get me back on my feet.
Louis wasn’t the least bit pissed by the stand Shiloh was taking. If anything, he seemed even more enchanted. “Be on your way, my lovely friend,” he quietly permitted.
Shiloh leaned closer to him, unfortunately looking more seductive than menacing. “We were leaving anyway.” Her voice was soft and slow. “Whether you allowed it or not.”
The least I could do for her was try and make our exit a smooth one. When she grabbed my hands, I tried my best to lever myself up. That’s when the real agony hit. Excruciating pain filled my chest, stealing the last of the air in my lungs. I fell forward onto my knees, unable to move.
Shiloh put a gentle hand on my side. “Your ribs are probably broken,” she said quietly. “Just be still for a minute.”
I didn’t see the gesture, but I heard the familiar click of Louis fingers as he beckoned his men. “Help him up,” he ordered.
Shiloh released her hold on me and jumped to her feet. “Not him!” she yelled.
I lifted my head in time to see the heavy who’d viciously beaten me stop dead in his tracks.
“Fine,” agreed Louis, shoving another candidate forward.
Shiloh’s eyes never left the first man. “You stay away from us,” she warned. “If I ever see you again, it won’t end well for you.”
I believed her, and judging by the solemn expression on the man’s face, he did too.
Someone else had the privilege of helping me to my feet, and then my protector took over. With my arm around her shoulder, Shiloh managed to get me out of the warehouse and into the car.
We were safe, but I didn’t feel out of danger. One look at the front of my shirt led me to think I was in absolute dire straits.
“It’s not that bad,” she assured me with a quick sideward glance. “Your nose is broken. Noses bleed a lot.”
“Be straight with me,” I mumbled. “My modelling days are over, right?”
She huffed out a small laugh that sounded more like relief than amusement. “No,” she replied. “You’re still beautiful, darling.”
Brute
SHILOH
The best way of keeping Mitchell awake on the short drive home was to crunch the gears. Every time I did it, he groaned as if I’d somehow worsened his injuries.
“Ease off the clutch,” he spluttered.
“Stop bleeding on the upholstery,” I countered, trying to raise a smile from him.
His head lolled against the headrest. “I have blood in my mouth.” The tinge of fear in his tone was understandable. I was worried too, but didn’t dare let it show. “That’s not good,” he added.
“I’m going to fix you up,” I assured him. “By the time I’m done, you’ll be even prettier than before.”
It was going to take a while before he was pretty again. Once I got him home and really checked him over, I realised I was seriously underequipped when it came to patching him up.
Antiseptic and gauze took care of the cuts and scrapes, but his nose was still bleeding profusely. I knelt in front of him at the foot of the bed and geared up to tell him that phase two of operation patch-up was going to be a little unorthodox. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?” I asked.
“Good,” he replied. “Start with the good.”
I rested my elbows on his knees, holding a cloth to his face. “I’m almost certain that your nose is broken,” I revealed. “But at least it’s straight.”
“Peachy. What’s the bad news?”
“It’s still bleeding and I can only think of one way to stop it.”
The poor man was so spent that he didn’t even ask how. “Just do what you have to do.”
I disappeared into the bathroom, returning a moment later holding the only solution I could come up with. Mitchell had two sisters. I didn’t have to explain a thing.
“You are not shoving tampons up my nose.” The cloth he held to his face did nothing to mask his horror. “I’ll bleed to death first.”
“Don’t be such a baby.” I sat beside him and dropped the box onto his lap. “We’re not exactly spoiled for choice when it comes to medical supplies.”
His shoulders slumped and I knew I’d won. “Promise me one thing,” he demanded.
“Anything.”
“What happens in this room stays in this room.”
I leaned across and whispered in his ear, “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.”
“No, Shiloh,” he mumbled. “Just you.”
***
Once his wounds were sorted, the most important thing on my agenda was ridding him of his bloodied clothes. It wasn’t an easy job. His body was stiff, reacting to the brutal pain of being kicked in the ribs. I ended up cutting his T-shirt off, purely to save him from the ordeal of having to raise his arms.
“You should probably get some sleep,” I suggested, gently smoothing down the gauze taped to his forehead.
“I have half a tampon wedged up each nostril,” he reminded me. “How am I supposed to sleep?”
I pulled back the cover
s and patted the mattress. Every move he made as he struggled to lie down must’ve been excruciating. His face twisted in pain.
“What can I do?” I asked. “More pillows?”
“No,” he groaned. “You’ve done enough.”
It was a telling statement. I wondered if he thought I was to blame for the attack. I’d been taking advantage of the crush Louis had on me to push my operation forward. If it had come at the expense of Mitchell’s safety, Mimi Traore had been right all along. I was little more than a witch who’d been sent to kill him.
***
I’d always had a tumultuous relationship with Kaimte, even before the events of that day. I didn’t share Mitchell’s view that we were living in paradise. As laid back as it seemed on the surface, it had a vicious underbelly that pulled me further under every day.
I was completely losing sight of myself, which is exactly what Allan predicted would happen. The bigger problem was that Mitchell was beginning to wonder who I was too.
Long after I thought he’d fallen asleep beside me, he asked a difficult question. “Why weren’t you scared?” he whispered. “I wasn’t expecting you to stand up to Louis like that.”
If I answered with a lie, chances are I’d have to follow up with ten more lies down the track just to keep my story straight – a tiresome prospect. For once the truth won out. I turned my head, mumbling my reply against his bare shoulder. “Because I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. He’s still trying to win me over.”
“Having me beaten up is pretty poor form then, isn’t it?” he suggested.
“A bit of a misstep, yes,” I agreed.
“It’s not the first time,” he mumbled weakly. “I doubt it will be the last.”
Shiloh (Wishes #6) Page 15
