GirlMostLikelyTo

by Barbara Elsborg

  “Men all same,” Vesna muttered. “Liars, cheats. Led by dick.” She waggled her finger in front of her crotch. “Smaller, worse they behave.”

  Wren gulped. “Do you have boyfriends?”

  No one spoke. Only Danijela met her gaze. “What you think?”

  “That you should have.”

  That earned her a genuine smile from Danijela.

  “Tomas your boyfriend?” Vesna asked.

  “Yes.” Please don’t let Tomas be involved in this. Yet she knew however much she might wish it, he was. What could she do? How could she get him away from this before the police stepped in?

  “Tomas is okay,” Danijela said. She nodded toward the door and shook her head.

  But not Dragen? Wren had already decided that.

  A faint cry from upstairs made her start. She opened her mouth and closed it as the three women stared at her. Oh God. I am so in over my head.

  Danijela slid her hand into her pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. The other two watched the door.

  “I like shoes,” Danijela said.

  “What are your favorite shoes?” Wren’s heart beat faster.

  Vesna lifted her foot. “Red with rose on heel.”

  Danijela held out her hand to Wren. She swallowed hard, palmed the paper and put it in her back pocket. All three women exhaled together. What did the note say? Help us? Rescue us? Tell the police? Buy us chocolates? Humor failed to calm her nerves.

  “What your favorites, Wren?” Tanja asked.

  “Shiny black ones, but the heels are so high I can’t walk properly in them.” They sat at the bottom of her closet.

  “I like these.” Tanja pointed to her feet.

  Wren nodded. “Flip-flops. Because they flip and flop.” She flapped her hands up and down. “Like fish.”

  “Flip-flop,” Tanja said and laughed.

  Wren reached for her folder to take out Leo’s list and heard the front door open. She’d missed her chance and closed the folder.

  “Shall we go out?” she suggested. “Walk to a fish-and-chip shop and talk.”

  Tanja stood and Vesna pulled her down. They looked toward Danijela, who shook her head. “We can’t,” she whispered.

  “Wouldn’t you like some chips?” Wren asked.

  She turned when she sensed someone behind her, hoping for Tomas, but saw Marco.

  “Hi. We’re talking about going for a walk to get some chips.”

  “They’ve eaten. Are you hungry?”

  She was about to say no when her stomach grumbled. Bloody traitor.

  “I’ll take you to dinner.”

  “But the two hours aren’t up.”

  Marco smiled. “I’ll still pay you.”

  Oh God, fuck, damn, blast and shit. She’d hoped Tomas would come to take her home.

  “I should finish the lesson,” she said.

  “They’re working tonight anyway.” He picked up her coat and held it for her.

  “Thank you.” She grabbed the folder and her purse.

  “You want magazines?” Vesna asked.

  “Keep them. We’ll talk about them next time.” No way would Wren come back.

  The women said goodbye but the friendliness had gone. They’d entrusted her with whatever was on that note, and it was clear they didn’t want anyone else in the house to know. Wren felt as if the pocket of her pants was on fire. Marco had a brief conversation in Albanian with Dragen while she waited, and then Marco turned and smiled. He opened the front door and gestured for her to go first.

  “My car’s over there.” She deliberately walked toward a clapped-out Cavalier.

  “Not that one,” he said with a laugh.

  The lights flashed on a dark Lexus.

  Marco was ultra-polite, opened the door for her, closed it after her, but instead of his actions making her feel comfortable, she was so tense she suspected she’d squeak at any moment. He took off his jacket and put it on the backseat.

  “How long have you worked at Ezispeke?” he asked as he pulled out of the parking spot and headed down the road.

  “A couple of years.”

  “What did you do before that?”

  “A bit of freelance translation, four months in a shoe shop, three months in a printer’s, two weeks in a call center and one day in a motorway service station.”

  He laughed. “One day?”

  “It was the night shift, and it was awful. I’ve never been so bored in my life. I snuck the uniform into the locker and didn’t go back. They never even paid me.”

  “Talking of paying you, take my wallet out of my jacket pocket and help yourself.”

  “Th-that’s fine. You can pay me later.”

  “Do it now, so I don’t forget.”

  “I didn’t earn the whole two hundred.”

  “Take two hundred.” There was a snap in his tone that hadn’t been there before.

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  She reached behind and removed his wallet from the inside pocket of his jacket. It was stuffed with fifty-pound notes. She’d never seen so much cash, which she guessed had been the point.

  “I’ve taken four fifties, thanks.” She put the wallet back and stuffed the notes in her purse.

  “What’s your boss like?” Marco asked.

  Why did everyone want to know about Olive? “She doesn’t like me.” Oh God, why did I say that?

  Marco glanced at her. “Why not?”

  “Because I do things like take students for coffee without thinking how I could also make money for the school. I’m not the most conventional teacher. Today I—”

  She clamped her lips together. Don’t tell him too much.

  “Today you what? You can’t stop there.”

  Marco pulled into The Light car park and Wren allowed herself to relax now she knew he wasn’t driving out onto the moors to kill and dismember her.

  “I taught my class of Italian teenage boys the difference between what a woman says and what a woman means.”

  He chuckled. “Perhaps you need to teach me as well.”

  Somehow she suspected that would be a waste of time. He wasn’t the type to listen to what women wanted.

  “You like Chinese food?” he asked.

  Instant thoughts of ox penis almost made her gag. “Er…ummph.”

  “Good.”

  Which proved her point about listening.

  He parked and came round to open her door. She tucked the folder under her arm.

  “Are my employees good pupils?” he asked as they walked.

  “They try hard. The more they talk, the better they’ll get, but I suspect they speak their own language when they’re together.”

  Marco opened the door of the restaurant and a man came rushing over to shake his hand. She hung back as they exchanged a few words and then Marco beckoned her to follow. There was a difference between being an alpha male and being a prick. Marco was used to getting his way and expected everyone to jump when he told them to.

  They were seated in a small annex with three tables, none of which were occupied, and her coat was whisked away. She pushed the folder and her purse under her seat before they were grabbed too.

  “Champagne?”

  “Well, I—” She wondered why he’d asked when a waiter appeared with a bottle and glasses. “Are you celebrating something?” Do not drink more than one glass.

  “An opportunity to dine with a beautiful woman.”

  “You’re a woman?”

  Marco stared at her and then burst out laughing.

  Oh crap. She didn’t ought to make him laugh. She buried her face in the menu.

  Marco lifted it from her. “I’ll choose.”

  “No ox penis,” slipped out before she could stop it. She bit back her smile at his snort of disbelief.

  “I’ll be sure to tell them,” he said.

  Her pulse raced. He’d asked her to dinner for a reason, but she was afraid to ask why. On the other hand, this was an opportunity to learn more abou
t him. Matt would throw a fit when he discovered what she’d done, but if Marco was the boss, anything she found out might be useful. Now was her chance to act the spy she’d decided to be when she was fourteen. Of course, by fifteen she wanted to be a pilot.

  “Hungry?” He stared as though he wanted to eat her, and not in a nice way.

  Wren chewed her lip.

  He frowned. “What are you afraid of?”

  “I’m rubbish with chopsticks and you’re wearing a nice shirt.”

  Marco chuckled. He wouldn’t be laughing when she’d splattered him. He twirled his glass and she dropped her gaze from his hands to concentrate on the ordinary, plain white tablecloth.

  “You’re the most beautiful woman in the room.”

  She looked around. They were the only two in there. “You’re the ugliest man.”

  Marco grinned.

  “Are you married?”

  His expression immediately darkened and he put the glass down so quickly, champagne splashed onto his hand. “No.”

  She was mortified. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “I was married. I had a wife and two sons. They’re dead.”

  Even though she knew this guy was as bad as could be, her heart ached for him. “I’m really sorry,” she whispered.

  “That’s why I came here, to start a new life, a new business, find new friends.”

  The food arrived and kept on coming until the table was full.

  “There’s far too much,” she said.

  “You don’t have to eat it all.”

  “Good thing my mother didn’t hear you say that.”

  He smiled. “Mine would say the same.”

  She felt his foot rub against hers under the table and pulled away. Shit.

  “I assume you were the reason Tomas was unavailable to work last night?”

  “You already made him miss our first date. He didn’t want to disappoint me again. So yes, my fault.”

  “Not sure how I feel about not being a priority.”

  She took a swallow of champagne, dismayed to realize she’d finished the glass.

  “I think you do know how you feel.” She raised her head. “You don’t like it.”

  He refilled her glass. Don’t drink any more.

  “So is that was this is about?” she asked, her throat drying. “You’re teaching Tomas a lesson? Taking his girlfriend out. Showing him you’re in control of his life?”

  Marco stared at her. “It was.”

  Uh-oh.

  “But I find you…interesting.”

  Not good. Try to be boring as well as not amusing.

  “What languages do you speak?” he asked.

  “Several, but not Albanian.”

  “So I can say what I like about you and you won’t understand.”

  “Antolle ulua sulrim. Auta miqula orqu.”

  Marco frowned.

  “And I’ve said what I think about you and you didn’t understand.” She’d said in Elvish—much wind pours from your mouth. Go kiss an orc.

  He nodded. “I think you said you want to fuck me.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. “No, that was hit you.”

  He leaned forward. “We can play that game too.”

  Oh God, drowning. She was in way over her head.

  “You like pain with your pleasure? Tomas doesn’t like to hit women. I enjoy it.”

  She stood.

  “Sit.” His gaze hardened into a lethal glare.

  “I’m going to the bathroom.” Wren turned her back on him before she pulled her purse from under the chair. She grabbed the folder at the same time but hid what she’d done. His stare bored into her as she walked away.

  Marco scared her. She wished Tomas had picked her up from Headingley. She’d call him now if she had her phone. Why did she have to lose the bloody thing today? She headed down a corridor toward the toilets and slipped inside the ladies’. Behind the door of a stall, she pulled out the note Danijela had given her.

  Tonight at nine Church Street. Wait until ten. She sighed. She hadn’t thought it would be a request to meet. Damn. Did it mean she was to wait or Danijela would wait? She thought about flushing the paper, changed her mind and put it in her pocket. Then changed her mind again and put it in her shoe. If something happened to her, it would be a clue. Wren gulped. If she went back to Marco the chances of something happening were a lot higher than if she left right now.

  There was no point looking for a way out in the bathroom. In books and movies, there was always a window to wriggle through, but never in real life. Why would restaurants make it easy for customers to sneak out without paying? She felt justified in leaving after that comment from Marco. A man who found pleasure in hurting someone else wasn’t worth a second of her time.

  Wren walked straight out of the main entrance, head high, and once she was round the corner, she ran like hell.

  * * * * *

  Tomas seethed as he pulled back into the motorway traffic. He’d been unlucky to get stopped for speeding, but it wasn’t the ticket he minded so much as the time it ate. The lights of Leeds had just come into view when Adam called again.

  “Hi,” Tomas said.

  “Have you heard from her?”

  “No. I’m almost back in Leeds. I’ll drive to her house.”

  “No point. I’ve just come from there. It’s dark. No sign of her. I don’t understand why she hasn’t been in touch. We didn’t do anything to upset her, did we? Maybe she changed her mind about the three of us. I just don’t want there to be a reason she can’t contact us.”

  “I’m sure everything’s fine.” No, he wasn’t. “Even though I asked her not to, I suspect she went to do that teaching job for my boss.”

  “The strippers?”

  He heard the disbelief in Adam’s voice. “Yeah.”

  Adam was silent for a moment as though giving him chance to tell the truth—or hang himself.

  “Well, why don’t you go to the place where they work? You could at least find out if they saw Wren earlier.”

  “Good idea.” Except they might or might not be in any one of the spots in the city where they stood to pick up men. Or Marco might have arranged some private party. What was Tomas supposed to do? Drive round Leeds looking?

  “Tomas? I know there’s a lot you aren’t telling me. I’m guessing you’re in some sort of trouble. There’s nothing that can’t be put right. But don’t you dare fucking come back without Wren.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Wren sprinted through the streets of Leeds. I’m an idiot. Why did I run? What did she think would happen in a restaurant? I might have been beaten to a pulp in a backroom or ended up in the cooking pot. A new garnish on the ox-penis dish. She turned off the Headrow and headed down Brigate, past Harvey Nics. She was frozen, the cold seeping into her bones, and suspected it was the last she’d see of her coat. She had no idea if she was being followed, but just in case, darted into one of the shopping arcades, left by the lower entrance and then headed for the Corn Exchange. It was 9:40.

  Church Street ran toward Leeds Parish Church. The road curved and she couldn’t see to the end. Jovana could be at the bottom. Wren kept walking because it was too cold to stand still. When Jovana stepped out of a doorway, Wren almost jumped out of her shoes.

  Jovana yanked her out of sight, back into the doorway. “Were you followed?”

  “No.” I hope not.

  “Where’s your coat?”

  Jovana’s coat was open. She wore knee-high boots and the shortest, tightest red dress Wren had ever seen.

  “In the restaurant. Along with Marco. I walked out.”

  Jovana smiled and then gasped. “You left the note?”

  “That’s in my shoe.”

  “Destroy it. I don’t have long. My first night in this spot. Veton drive past to check on us. If I tell you—hide behind me.”

  “Okay.”

  Jovana took a deep breath. “I trusting you. I think you want he
lp and I don’t have anyone to ask. I look for my friend Lule Kona. You hear her name?”

  She shook her head. As far as she could remember, that wasn’t a name on any of the registers.

  “Marco came to our town, pretended to like her, asked her to live in England with him. Asked me to go too. Said he find us jobs. We come together. We owe him money for transport, food, place to live, clothes.”

  “And my lessons,” Wren said in a quiet voice.

  Jovana nodded. “When we got here, he separate. I don’t know where Lule go.”

  “Why don’t you go home?”

  “No passport. No money. Marco find ways to show us not good idea. Threat to tell parents what we do, to take sister, brother, cut us, kill us, do same to friends. He use us, give us drugs so we do anything he want. I pretend tonight to get out of house.”

  Wren knew, had guessed, and yet hearing it still killed something inside her. “Tomas…”

  “Different, yet same.”

  She took a deep breath. “What do you want me to do? How can I help you?”

  Jovana sucked in her cheeks. “Find Lule. Her mother—”

  The tip-tap of someone approaching in heels grew louder and Jovana stepped out of the doorway.

  “Hi, Jo, I’m back,” said a woman. “Christ, it’s colder than a snowman’s cock. My bum’s freezing. I hope the next guy has a car with heated seats.” She broke off her giggle when she saw Wren. “Who’s that?”

  “Friend.”

  Wren stepped fully out of the doorway. The face of the woman next to Jovana shone pale in the lamplight. She wore a coat with a furry hood but her legs were bare and her heels very high.

  “Are you one of Marco’s? Where’s your coat? Jesus, you’ll freeze to death.”

  “Guy got rough and she leave,” Jovana said.

  “Bastard. I’m Juno.”

  “Robin,” Wren said and then realized she’d not thought that through. Another bloody little bird.

  A car cruised to a halt next to them and the window went down.

  “Mine,” Jovana said quietly and Juno backed off.

  Wren watched and listened in fascinated horror as Jovana chatted to the driver. The guy was her dad’s age. As Jovana opened the door to get inside, the his gaze slid past her to Wren.

  “How much for the two of you?” He beckoned Wren, whose feet were set in concrete.