The car park is mostly empty, just pools of orange lamplight stretching across cracked tarmac. The new sign reading ‘Chaos & Angels’ buzzes above.
I spot the car straight away. The man leaning against the bonnet is built like a wall, his neck thicker than my thigh and his arms folded tightly across his pumped chest. His eyes track me the whole way.
I push down my fear and smile. “All this for little old me?” I ask, blinking innocently.
“You Remi?” he asks, though it doesn’t sound like a question. I nod, and he pushes off the bonnet and opens the rear door. “In.”
My stomach flips, but my legs keep moving. I duck in before my brain catches up, sliding onto cracked leather that smells faintly of smoke and sweat.
The man inside is worse than the one outside. Not big, but lean and wiry, and his face looks carved from something sharp. Scars ladder his cheek, and when he smiles, it’s cruel.
“Remika Harris,” he says, like he’s been waiting years to say my name out loud.
My throat tightens. “It’s Remi.”
He ignores that, leaning back, arm stretched across the seat like we’re old mates. “Your mother owed me money. Five grand.”
I keep my face blank, even as my chest hollows. I snort because bravado is easier than begging. “You’re chasing five grand? What kind of low-rent gangster are you?”
The smile doesn’t move, but his eyes go flat. “Five grand plus interest. Years of it. Let’s call it twenty.”
“Twenty!” I cry. “I don’t have a pound to my name.”
“Then you’ll work for it.”
I already know the kind of work he means, and I am not going there. Once I dip my toe into prostitution, it’s a slippery slope.
“No. I’m not selling myself.”
He sneers, his lip lifting slightly to flash a gold tooth. “You start paying me quick, girl, or I’ll take your payment finger by finger, limb by limb.”
“And then you’ll never get your money,” I snap.
“I know men who’ll pay to watch the show, to watch you bleed out slow. It’ll make me ten times what you owe.”
A chill scuttles down my spine, cold and electric.
I swallow, forcing my chin up. “I’ll get you the money.”
“Smart girl.”
The door clicks open beside me. The bodyguard looms, waiting.
I step out on shaky legs, forcing myself not to bolt until I’m back on the street, out of sight. Only then do I let the tremble hit, curling my fists into my sleeves until my knuckles ache.
Twenty grand.
And if I don’t pay, they’ll carve it out of me.
Shadow
She’s gone.
One second, she’s behind the bar, wiping down glasses like she’s got nothing to hide. The next, I turn and she’s nowhere. Not in the back, not outside . . . just gone.
My jaw tightens as I stalk through the clubhouse, scanning every corner. She didn’t tell me. Didn’t even tell Axel. Just slipped out.
By the time I shove my way into his office, Axel’s half-laughing at something Lexi said. He looks up, amused, like I’m the punchline. “What now?”
