by Cora Kenborn
“I’ll catch up in a minute.”
Angel barely acknowledges her friend before the heavy, metal door slams behind her. I’m not a man accustomed to small talk or manners, so I don’t offer either as I turn around to leave. I have a ride to catch.
“Hey!” Shoes scuffle behind me as a hand grabs my bicep. “Dominic McCallum!”
I stop mid-stride. Shit. I’m not in the mood to deal with another wannabe-actress who thinks my dick rings the doorbell to stardom, so I spin around, my thumb digging into my temple. “Look lady, I’m not your ticket to Hollywood. In fact, most agents prefer to spend their free time jabbing pins in little Dominic McCallum voodoo dolls.”
Shooting me a hard look, she lets go of my arm. “That’s not what…” Her words trail off as she bends down to pick up my torn business card. Holding it up, she lets out a labored sigh. “What you said to Angel, is it true? I mean, can you really—?”
Son of a bitch. “How long were you standing there?”
She shrugs. “Long enough.”
I roll her cryptic admission around in my head as my ride share app alerts me that my car is here. She clears her throat, and I glance up to see her angling her head as if trying to look through me.
“If you’re really offering her that kind of money, what’s the catch?”
I was right. She was eavesdropping. “Why do you assume there’s a catch?”
“There always is.”
As if on cue, my app chimes again. “This has been fun, but my ride is waiting.”
Before I can take two steps, she blurts out, “Is this about your search for Alexandra Romanov?”
Spinning around, I narrow my eyes. Intuition has always saved my ass, and at the moment, warning signs are pinging off this girl like atomic road flares. “I’m sorry?”
“Come on, McCallum, you think I’m stupid? I know that’s why Reggie’s girl slapped you. I heard everything. Not that it would’ve been hard to figure out. Every asshole with a telephoto lens and an overdrawn bank account is hunting for that girl.”
“So, what does that have to do with Angel?”
“You think I don’t see the resemblance? I’m broke, not blind.”
I force a blank expression. “I don’t follow.” Only I do. And when she sighs, I know she does, too.
“You won’t hurt her, right?” She stares down at her hands, and despite the sarcastic armor, I know this girl is being sincere.
“Look, I may be a lot of things, but homicidal isn’t one of them.” Choosing my words carefully, I offer a half-truth. “There’s a million dollars on the line. People with less morals than me will do anything to get their hands on it, and most of them won’t care what happens after the payout.”
She finally looks me in the eye. I have no idea what’s rolling around in that Crayola head of hers, but as I watch her tap the ripped edge of my card against her bottom lip, I’m hoping it’s surrender. “And you do?”
Frustrated, I rake a hand through my hair. “Let’s just say I know what it’s like to get thrown to the wolves. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”
As her rigid posture relaxes, mine coils tighter than a starved python. That’s just a little too much truth for me. I know the moment she sees it, too. The exact moment she resigns both of us to whatever she’s been wrestling with.
“Promise me you’ll watch out for her.”
“What?”
“Promise me!” she yells, delivering a surprisingly hard punch to my chest.
My palms fly up. “Okay, Jesus, I promise.”
Keeping her eyes firmly on mine, she pauses before reaching in her apron and pulling out a pen. I watch as she scribbles frantically on the back of my torn card before shoving it in my face. The moment I take it, a shadow of regret passes over her face. “This is her address.”
No. It can’t be this easy.
“Why would you give me this?”
She stares at me before dropping her gaze to the destroyed card clenched in my hand. “If you can give her a better life, you need to convince her to listen to you.” Her voice catches as her eyes trail over her shoulder toward the dead-end bar. “No one deserves to die serving cheap booze in a dirty apron. Especially her. She has talent, McCallum. Real talent.”
“How selfless of you. Unfortunately, you fell on the wrong sword. Even after stealing my wallet, she still refuses to listen to anything I have to say.”
“You’re a persuasive guy,” she says, giving my chest a firm pat. “You’ll figure it out.” I’m about to tell her I can’t figure my way out of half the shit I’m in when she adds, “You owe it to her.”
She can’t be serious.
“I’m sorry, you think I owe her for robbing me blind?”
“No, you owe her a chance. You ruined her life, McCallum. Then again, that’s what you do, isn’t it? Destroy people. Exploit weaknesses to make yourself feel like a big shot.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I’ve never met that girl before in my life.”
“No, I guess you wouldn’t remember her.” Fire burns in her eyes. “I mean, she was just a faceless, nameless casualty in your quest for justice. Kind of like when you did that expose on Last First Kiss and shut down the whole production. Do you even remember the name of the actress you ruined in your crusade?”
I can hear the hatred in her words. She spits them out like poisoned darts, but my skin has grown so thick through the years, I don’t even flinch. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t run around with a pitchfork ruining people’s lives, but if I see an opening, I’ll take it.
“Her name was Jade Saxton,” I snap. “And that producer is now serving a ten-year sentence for sexual assault. So, you’re welcome for that.”
She blanches. “Even so, she was innocent.”
“Justice isn’t free, sweetheart. We all pay a price.”
Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath before opening them. “Look, you’ve already made the offer. I’m just asking you to follow through. I’ll beg if that’s what you want.”
“Why?” It’s one word. Simple, to the point, and loaded with suspicion.
“Look where you are, McCallum.” Spreading her arms wide, she gestures around the dark alley. “You think if we had a choice, we’d choose this life, waking up every morning wondering if that’s the day we’ll end up back on the streets?” She sighs, the fury draining out of her.
“So, selling out your friend is your big selfless act?”
“I don’t trust you, McCallum. But between watching Angel barely survive and selling her out to a man who can save her, I’ll sell her out every time.” I’m still processing what she said when she turns to go back inside. “By the way,” she says, tilting her chin over her shoulder, “Angel used to go by another name.”
I should walk away right now. Instead, I raise an eyebrow and wait.
“Back in Hollywood,” she adds. “Before it was dragged through the mud, and we ended up here.”
I almost don’t ask. Somehow, I know her answer will change everything. But I’ve never been one for a wait and see approach. “What was it?”
The air hangs heavy between us as she utters the two words that start the countdown. “Jade Saxton.”
Chapter Eight
Angel
Dropping my keys and backpack on the floor, I stumble into the tiny apartment Violet and I share. I don’t bother turning on the lights. There’s nothing in this shithole I care to see.
Besides, I’m no stranger to the dark. Where most people fear the unknown, I’m drawn to it. They never understand until it’s too late that the light is what they should fear. There’s nowhere to hide under a spotlight. It doesn’t chase away the monsters. It leads them right to your door.
Kind of like Dominic McCallum.
Of all the men to walk into the bar, of all the men to choose to steal from, it had to be the one I hate with every fiber of my being.
So, why can’t I get him out of my mind?
“Because
I’m obviously insane,” I grumble. Pulling my shirt over my head, I toss it on the floor and stumble toward the bathroom while simultaneously trying to pop the button on my jeans. Not an easy task, made painfully clear when I slam into the wall like a human pinball.
“Shit!”
Have I mentioned how much this day can go fuck itself?
Keeping one hand braced against the wall, I bend down and kick off my sneakers. After ten hours on my feet, the sudden freedom feels so good I let out a groan that borders on obscene.
“Well, that was definitely worth the wait.”
The deep timbre in his voice skates up my spine, and I scream, spinning around so fast, I slam into the wall again, my spine cracking against the cheap plaster. “Who’s there?”
“Do you always wander around your apartment in the dark?”
“I have a gun,” I warn, which doesn’t sound remotely convincing.
“You have a set of keys and a backpack. Both of which you dumped at the door on your way in.”
My mind whirls as I try to figure out how he knows that, but logistics aren’t important when I’m about to be murdered. “I’ll scream.”
He snorts. “Be my guest. From the looks of the people who live around here, you’re more likely to collapse a lung before anyone gives a shit.”
I hate the condescending tone in his voice, but what I hate even more is that he’s right. “I won’t go down without a fight.”
His low chuckle floats across the room and crawls up my spine. “Oh, cupcake. I’m counting on it.”
Cupcake?
Before I can say a word, there’s a click, and I’m momentarily blinded as the room is bathed in bright light. Then my gaze lands on him. The man sitting on my couch with his hand shoved under the lampshade.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. It’s you?”
“And it’s you, Angel Smith.” I wince at the sound of my name rolling off his tongue. Familiar icy blue eyes slide up and down my body, a wicked glint hiding behind them. “Quite a bit of you, in fact.”
I follow his gaze, mortified to realize I’m half-naked. “Wipe that smirk off your face,” I growl, grabbing my shirt off the floor and tugging it over my head. “I was going to take a shower in what I thought was an empty apartment.” My eyes narrow as they shift from him to the barred window. “How did you get in here, anyway?”
“Through the door.”
I swear this man…
“It was locked,” I say through clenched teeth. “I had to use my key to open it, so unless you can walk through walls, I’ll need another answer.”
He points a finger at me like I’ve just passed some kind of test. “Beautiful and quick witted. You might just be the perfect woman, Angel Smith.”
“Do you ever give a straight answer, Mr. McCallum?”
In response, he digs in his pocket and pulls out a switchblade. He waits a fraction of a second before pressing a button and causing one hell of a blade to pop up. “It’s Dominic, and let’s just say I acquired a few skills in my younger days that come in handy from time to time.”
“You picked my lock?”
“In ten seconds flat.” With a click, the blade disappears, and he tucks it back in his pocket. “You should really look into getting a deadbolt.”
“And you should really look into seeking professional help. Stalking is a crime.” Sighing, I rub my palm across my forehead. “I’m too tired for this shit. You already have your wallet, so what do you want, your twenty bucks back? Are you that hard up?” Digging into my pocket, I fish out his damn twenty dollars and throw it across the room. “There, congratulations, you’re now twenty bucks richer and have proven you’re not only a gigantic dick, but a huge perv.” I fold my arms across my chest. “Do you want a gold star?”
“No, but a thank you would be nice.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re not the most punctual person, you know. After sobering up and driving over here, I still waited over two hours for you. There were only so many ways to entertain myself, and after refilling all your ice trays and organizing your underwear, I had to get creative.”
“You did what to my what?”
“Sit down, Angel.” He waits, staring at me with those damn condescending eyes, until I do exactly what I shouldn’t. I sink into my chair. Nodding, he waves a hand in the air. “The point is, eventually, I had to take a piss.”
“What the hell does that have to do with—?”
“And happened to see this.” He opens his palm, and in the middle sits a tiny black plastic circle no bigger than a nickel. Red, blue, and yellow wires spider out of the end as if someone had hastily cut them.
“What is it?”
“That, cupcake, is a high-tech waterproof camera.” I look up at him in shock, and he nods. “Drilled into the ceiling right above your shower.” His free hand pats the knife stashed in his pocket. “My guess is if I let myself into your landlord’s apartment, I’d find a whole wet and wild file he’s jerked his dick raw to for months now.”
That’s it.
At least if I took Reggie up on his offer, I’d get fucked for money, but this is too much. I can feel it bubbling up inside me like an overfilled pot. Now my hands are shaking, and I can barely see straight as I fly toward the couch and swipe the camera out of his hands.
“Motherfucker!” I stomp toward the door.
Dominic leaps to his feet and falls in behind me. “Where are you going?”
“Where do you think? To kick this guy’s ass so hard he chokes on his own balls.”
He grabs my arm before I can open the door. “Easy, Rocky. Not only is that the wrong thing to do, it’s kind of anatomically impossible.”
I gape at him. “You want me to just sit back and take it?”
“No, I want you to hit him where it hurts.”
“I’m trying,” I hiss, grinding my teeth. “But you won’t get out of my way.”
He shakes his head. “I meant his spank bank collection. Pain heals, cupcake, but tits are forever. Besides, if you think this guy doesn’t have five extra copies duped on a flash drive somewhere, you’re naïve as hell.”
“So, what do you suggest I do?”
“Let me handle it.” A smirk tugs at his lips. It’s that smirk that makes me step back. My stomach twists, a warning flashing through the static in my head.
Predator.
Clearing my throat, I cross my arms over my chest. “And I’m supposed to just trust you? The guy who broke into my apartment and color coded my underwear.”
“You know, I’m all for attitude, but you might want to dial yours back a little.”
I scowl. “Oh, trust me. You haven’t heard attitude, yet.”
He lets out a small laugh, his anger gone. Just like that. Which is more rattling than if he’d shoved me against the wall again. “Oh, trust me, I have. A full two minutes and thirty-nine seconds of it.”
Chapter Nine
Angel
I freeze, my gaze dropping to my feet. “You remember me.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “You mean Jade Saxton? Well, let’s just say it’s hard to forget someone who can fit that many ‘fuck yous’ into one voice mail. Now, Angel Smith on the other hand? No. At least, not at first. However, your friend was pretty quick in jogging my memory.”
Fucking Violet.
“How…?”
He scratches the stubble on his chin and shrugs. “She ninjaed around the side of the building and overheard us talking.”
I’m going to kill her when she comes home. I bitched for two hours about Dominic McCallum and his fucking alley proposition, and she didn’t say shit.
“She had no right to do that.”
“She cares about you.”
“Yeah, she cares so much she handed me on a silver platter to the man responsible for this.” Flinging my arms out, I motion around the apartment. To the ugly, vomit colored couch. To the brown, water-stained walls. To the cracked baseboards and hideous peeling linoleum floors. “Tak
e a good look, McCallum. I hope it was worth it.”
Dominic opens his mouth, and for a split second I think he’s going to apologize. But then he shuts it. “I didn’t know you were her. If I had—”
“You would’ve what? Not run the story? Not used me as a sacrificial lamb to stick it to the man?” I’m goading him, but I don’t care.
“The man?” He laughs, repeating the words slowly. “Do you even know what you signed on for?”
“Yeah, the role of a lifetime.”
“Try a low-budget film where the only action scenes being filmed were in Paulo Bellini’s trailer.”
His words catch me off guard, and all the pain and shame come rushing back in a cloud of raw hurt. Cursing, I pull my hand back and swing, only for it to come to a dead stop. Dominic’s fingers are wrapped around my wrist, and when I look up, I’m met with a calculated stare.
“I don’t mince words, Miss Smith.” His callous tone mirrors the cold expression on his face. “The truth may hurt, but distorted reality does a lot more damage.” He nods at the camera still clenched in my other hand. “Believe what you want, but I did you a favor.”
“A favor?” Jerking my arm out of his grasp, I turn away, my teeth grinding together as I close my eyes and count slowly in my head.
“Look, I didn’t—”
“I got that role because I’m a damn good actress, McCallum,” I say, cutting him off. “But because of you, every producer assumed I was much better at spreading my legs.” Opening my eyes, I stare at the wall in a swell of fury. “The name Jade Saxton became a joke. No one would return my phone calls or give me an audition. At least one that wasn’t on my knees.”
There. I said it. I unleashed the words I’ve held in for so long. So why the hell don’t I feel better? Why is the hollow pit inside my stomach still there?
Because he never paid for his sins, a voice whispers. Because you lost everything while he built an empire. Because you sank to the bottom while he floated away.
