Sin

by M. Malone

  11

  Matthias

  What the hell did she just call me?

  I glared at Gemma, trying to decipher what and who she was. Was she someone sent by the demons of my past? But the more I stared at her, all I could see was Gigi, around the mouth… the eyes…

  Jesus Christ, the eyes. Haunted, soul stripping.

  I shook my head. No. It’s not her. I cleared my throat. “What did you just say?”

  She licked her lips, and my gaze couldn’t help but track her tongue as it peeked out. Every memory of how she tasted bored its way further into my skull, as if to take root so I could never exorcise her from my brain. My thumb searched my heart against my ribcage, pounding so rapidly it threatened to break free of its cage.

  “I called you Matt. Are you him?” Her voice was pleading, questioning, full of disbelief and wonder, and… hope.

  She’s not her. Gigi’s dead. Has been dead for nearly a decade now. This is a trick.

  “Who sent you?”

  She shook her head. “No. No one sent me. Are you Matt?”

  “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” I didn’t even bother with pants. I tucked the edges of the towel into each other and went straight for her. Despite the anger coursing through me, somehow the monster inside stayed at bay, happily sleeping, as if sated for the night.

  Considering what you just did, you should be.

  Fuck. Bugger. I couldn’t fucking think of her that way… the way her lips tasted… She was a liar. A spy maybe? I didn’t fucking know. All I knew was that I had to get her as far away from me as possible.

  The thing was though, even as I bore down on her, she didn’t back away. Her gaze never left me. She stood her ground and didn’t flinch. Not an inch. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, the woman had a core of steel. Even the guys in this house would all run for cover if they saw me coming after them like this. She just tucked her chin up and glared at me. “Answer the question.”

  “You don’t know what the hell you’re chatting about.” I grabbed her by the upper arms and she winced, but I didn’t let go. “I don’t know who you are, and this isn’t a fucking game.”

  “This isn’t a game to me. That stuffed toy… Where did you get it?”

  I didn’t dare glance in the direction of that stuffed animal. Even Oskar had learned very quickly to never ask me about it. “You belong in the medical bay. Don’t come into my room again.”

  She fought against my hold, but it was futile. “Let me go. Talk to me. I think after what we just did, you owe me that. Where did you get it?”

  “We’re done talking.” I turned her in my arms and practically frog-marched her out of my room, down the hall. She was smart enough to not wake up the others. She was silent until I got her down the hall, made the right toward the main living area and then a sharp turn on the left to the med bay, and then I shoved her inside the room.

  But that was where her acquiescence stopped. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. Why are you kicking me out? I just want to know if you’re him. They told me you were dead. I want to understand.” She reached for me and I backed away.

  “Whoever you think I am, I’m not him. Whoever you’re looking for, I’m sure he’s long dead.” I wanted to leave her there. I wanted to turn my back, lock her in and shut out the last hour and a half. I was desperate to do that. Desperate to get my emotions back under control, to stop the spinning of the world and just make everything slow down and steady out.

  Fucking hell, this wasn’t supposed to happen like this. When I raised my eyes, it wasn’t Gemma looking back at me. It was Gigi, the only person I’d ever loved in this world who had ever loved me back.

  I knew it was a trick. I knew it was a lie. But there was a part of me deep inside, buried somewhere beneath the monster, that wanted to believe—that hoped— even though I knew better. “Stay away from me.”

  She shook her head and stuttered. “I don’t want to hurt you. I just–I just need answers.”

  “So do I. Let’s start with who sent you?” I could practically see the mask sliding in place. She was hiding something. What was it?

  “I told you, no one sent me.”

  “Bollocks. I don’t believe you.”

  She approached me cautiously. “Look, when I was little, I had a Tigger just like that. And there was someone very special who tried to help me. There were bad people that hurt him. They killed him and tried to kill me. That stuffed toy really just looked like mine. It’s impossible that you would be him because when I went looking—“ She shook her head. “Everyone said he was dead. I even saw what I assumed was his obituary. I thought that I would never see him again, but I just… What if I was wrong? What if they didn’t kill him?”

  I set my jaw. “Like I said, whoever it is you’re looking for, whoever you think I am, I’m not. You need to stay here. Don’t come into my room again.”

  “How can you say that after what happened?”

  “What happened was a mistake. It won’t be happening again.”

  She raised her brow. “Are you serious right now?”

  I nodded. “As a heart attack. I don’t know what your game is. I don’t know what you’re playing at, but the kind of games you’re playing, they get people dead. In case you didn’t know it, I am the boogeyman. So even if you’re innocent, even if you actually think I am some friend of yours, it’s better for everyone if you stay the fuck away. But if you’re lying, or if this is a game and someone sent you, for your own safety, you’ll want to stay in here until Noah can deal with you. Either way, it means you stay the fuck away from me.” And then I did the safest thing that I could. I walked out and locked the door behind me.

  Matthias

  My legs shook.

  Oh God, no. No. Even as I drowned out the sound of her thumping on the glass and demanding I let her out, I was having a hard time staying steady on my legs. The swaying and rocking of the penthouse had my stomach lurching.

  No. No. No.

  The survival instinct cued the monster inside to stretch.

  Was it time to fight? Or retreat? It was as if it responded to my call to arms. More like call to puke.

  It’s not her. Block out the noise. It’s not her. Gigi is dead.

  I knew what my brain was telling me. The girl with the big eyes, the full lips, and the fire-bright red hair—she was gone. She was never coming back. That’s what I told myself. That was what I was forced to believe, forced to accept. As much as I tried to hide it, as much as I tried to swallow it, there was no denying it. No one else in the world would know about that Tigger toy, that doll that Gigi had dragged around behind her in the dirt, the mud, and the rain. As kids, I’d often washed it for her, helping to keep the thing clean.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  I was going to be sick. It’s a lie. It’s a lie. It can’t be real. That girl in there was sent by the Family. I’d known that there would be a cost to what I’d been doing, that they would come after me. And they had been. This woman, this Gigi look-alike, she was just the latest in their assault against me.

  You knew this would happen.

  That’s right, I did know. They’d come after my family, and now they were going after the psyche, the tenuous hold I had on my inner killer. They knew who I was and what I was capable of. They were trying to break down my inner sanctum by sending that woman.

  Gigi had died. I’d seen her limp body floating along down the Thames. They’d held me back as I tried to jump in after her. The angle with which she’d smacked into the water, there was no way anyone survived that. And, I remembered, Gigi couldn’t swim.

  So who the hell was that in the medical bay?

  The memories of that long-ago night washed over me, racking my body with shivers. Just a few more steps and I’d be in the safety of my room and I could collapse.

  It didn’t matter what I did though; the memories couldn’t be held at bay. It came rushing over me like a tsunami wave.

  Matt peered around th
e grate. Becca was back. She looked like she’d gained a pound or two, so wherever she’d been, they were feeding her better. But her eyes, they were dead and flat.

  What the hell was she doing here? The Family had sold her a few weeks ago. She was only nine, but still, they’d sold her to someone. Some sick ponce had come to pick her up. Matt’s skin crawled thinking about it.

  This was the reason his mother had insisted on nurturing his love of all things tech, so that he could avoid having those dead eyes. His stealing of stuff and taking it apart had been a problem for her, but she’d let him. It made him useful in other ways. If Becca was back, that meant the buyer hadn’t liked her? What had gone wrong?

  Up top, he could see Colin holding her tight, shaking her. Matt’s hands furled into fists. He wanted to go up there and beat Colin for touching her. Becca was only a little kid. She didn’t deserve that. And then he saw him–Father. The old man was hardly ever seen anymore. Usually only if there was a problem. Matt had only seen him twice, and his mother had always told him, “Stay out of the way, stay hidden, and don’t draw attention.” She told him that he didn’t want the attention of Father.

  The older man bent in front of the little girl with the stringy brown hair. He was asking her something. She didn’t even respond. No reaction, no emotion, nothing.

  Oh yeah, Matt knew that look well. Father and Colin stepped aside to talk privately. And the girl turned her head, their eyes meeting for just a moment. Matt wanted to say something, mouth some words to her to offer some comfort. Anything. But what could he really say? Your life is over? This is the hell we all live in?

  He could hear the conversation a little bit between Colin and Father. The buyer who sent her back, he didn’t like her. She cried too much and was uncooperative. Besides, she was too old.

  Matt’s skin crawled. He hated those men, every last one of them. If he could, he would burn the whole place down. He had a plan, a plan to get him and Gigi the hell out of there. He’d been squirreling away some money too, enough for train tickets.

  He and his mother came from up north. His gran was up there. If he could find her, they’d have a safe place to go. His mum, she ran away from Gran because Gran said she was unfit to raise him. So one day, in the middle of the night, she’d packed him up and they’d run and ended up in London.

  He missed his gran. But if he could get it together, they could get up there, up north near Newcastle. He remembered the small village, and he was good. All he needed was a computer. If things went well, he could steal one. But right now, his only plan was to get him and Gigi out safely. Maybe another week and they could manage it.

  He was good with technology, and he was good at light hacking. He knew all the right people to get the right IDs. And if he was smart and he picked the right wallet, he’d have access to bank accounts, real money… money that little kids couldn’t get access to.

  Maybe he could take that little girl Becca up there with them. But she’d been sent back. That meant she was safe for now, right? He glanced back up. His eyes scanned the scaffolding and then he saw her to the right. She was climbing up.

  The scream lodged in his throat, survival instincts taking over. Don’t make a sound, do not be noticed. It’s your life or hers. You die, Gigi dies. Becca is on her own.

  Still, the part of him that felt compassion, empathy, the part of him that the Family tried to kill, that part wanted to run up to that girl and tell her not to do it. Not to do that terrible thing she was clearly about to do. That there was a way out. That he could save her just like he was going to save Gigi. And then meeting his gaze one more time, she jumped.

  The pandemonium was instant. Father and Colin ran for her. The people down below were screaming. Some of the younger girls and the babies cried, and the women cowered. They knew what was going to happen; beatings for everyone. He turned his gaze back to Colin, whose hands were now clutching in his hair. Father shoved at his shoulder and told him to find another girl.

  In that moment, Matt knew that they didn’t have a week. They needed to leave now.

  He didn’t think he’d ever run so fast in his life. As small as he was, he shoved past the people in the hallways, the crowds running toward the main area to find out what had happened. He ran against them and found Gigi in her little hidden cubby under the stairs, the one he’d built for her. It had a little shelf under there for her dolls and her little teacups.

  “We have to go.”

  Her eyes went wide. “What? Why?”

  “You’re not safe. We have to go right now. Pack your things. I’ll be right back.”

  He booked down the hall, down to his mother’s room where he slept, to his little padded mattress on the floor. He knew better than to leave anything visible in the room. He’d learned early enough how to sew his mother’s outfits together. Every time he’d stolen enough money, he rolled it tight and shoved it into the padding of the mattress and stitched back up the hole. And the next time he had some money, he’d open those stitches up and do it all again. He’d amassed maybe a few hundred quid. It was enough for tickets and food if they had to rough it for a bit.

  He tore the mattress open, grabbed the money, and took one of his mother’s heavier shawls for Gigi. There was nothing else he wanted. Nothing else he needed. Hell, he had nothing else. When he went back to Gigi, she had her Tigger and a small little backpack with the picture of her father in it along with some coins and some of her teacups in case they wanted to eat or drink anything, she’d said.

  He nodded. “Smart thinking. Are you ready?”

  She placed her tiny hand in his and smiled up at him. “Yes, let’s go.”

  He didn’t even think. He just dragged her behind him along the path he’d already cleared. Mostly everyone was in the main common area of the warehouse. He took her down to the boiler and around an old washing machine. The stupid thing didn’t work, but some of the guys figured they could find parts and fix it.

  He’d found it with Gareth when they’d been playing hide-and-seek a few months ago, and he’d discovered the tunnel. He knew it was likely a drug running tunnel, but he knew it went to the outside. Unlike Gigi, he was allowed access outside. So once they were on the streets, he knew where to go.

  He forced her forward. “Go on. You first.”

  What he didn’t tell her was in case anyone followed them, at least he could fight and she could still probably make it to the outside. But no one followed. Inch by inch they crawled, getting the dirt from the tunnels in their hair, on their clothes, and on their skin, but freedom wasn’t far. He gave her the directions leading her out. And when they reached the break, he helped her open and shove it aside. When he touched her hand, he could feel her shaking.

  “All right?” he asked her softly.

  She rolled her lips inward and nodded. He could feel the fear in her tiny body, but she was brave. She was a fighter. She was a survivor. They ran out of the alley and down the street. He knew better than to go to the Nick, because the Family had people on the payroll. They wouldn’t be helped. They’d be turned right back over. So that wasn’t an option.

  Besides, he’d already been collared once for pickpocketing. He didn’t need that kind of headache, and he hated to think about what would happen to Gigi if he wasn’t around.

  Finally, they made it along the Thames heading toward Piccadilly Circus. He’d memorized the bus and train schedules. If they could just get there, they’d be fine.

  Gigi clutched tightly onto his hand. “Matt, are we going to be okay?”

  “Yeah, love, I promise. I wouldn’t lie to ya.”

  But that promise was made in vain. It was a promise he couldn’t keep. They were so close. The streets got busier as they neared Piccadilly Circus, and he knew that they were almost to safety in the crowds where no one would know them, where they could change clothes, find something to eat, and get on the bus. They could be with his gran in under a day. All he had to do was get them to safety.

  But then a hand
clamped on his shoulder and he knew. He knew that somewhere along the line he’d made a miscalculation, made a wrong turn. Beside him, Gigi screamed. Someone had her by the shoulders and she was kicking.

  “Oy, let her go.”

  Alan Rice, one of the Family’s enforcers, leaned into his face. “Where do you ‘fink you’re going?”

  Matt thrashed, kicked, wiggled, and punched. He was much smaller than Alan, but there was no way he was letting them take Gigi.

  “If you weren’t so valuable to Father, I’d put an end to this. But he made it clear that we’re not going to kill you.”

  They weren’t? Why was he valuable to Father? Yeah, he knew tech, and sometimes he hacked things for the old man at Colin’s behest. But he wasn’t that useful. Were they going to sell him instead?

  “Put me down.”

  “Happy to oblige,” Alan said. When he put him down, Matt realized that they had Gigi and she was fighting.

  “Put her down too. It was my idea. I made her do it.”

  She was crying now. The tears were running down her face. “Matt, no. I came—”

  He set his jaw and turned away from her. Maybe if they thought he’d forced her she’d be okay. “I thought I could sell her on my own. Make my own money, run and be free.”

  Her eyes went wide. “No. Matt, don’t—”

  Alan laughed. “Oy, looks like we got a businessman on our hands.” He leaned closer. “You’re valuable to us. Yeah, she’s sellable, but Father wants to make a point. You fink we didn’t know your plan to run with her? There are spies everywhere, boyo. You two have to learn that.”

  The other two men that were with Alan were huge to Matt and even bigger when he looked at them in regard to Gigi. They held her higher. At first, he didn’t know what they were going to do with her, but then he saw the gleam in their eyes, the joy… and he screamed.