If my attempt had been a success, I’d be hanging above the city now, far from whatever fresh hell Wilbur and this man have in store for me. For a second, I let the breeze caress my hair back from my forehead, let it spin my body slowly as the last of the sun leeches from the horizon.
Then Stefan slams his door, and my eyes flicker open. Instead of the car interior, I see myself waiting at a café booth, excited but also half scared to death as I wait for the man who holds my future in the balance.
Will I get the job? Will I not?
It never occurred to me back then to ask if I’d want it once I had it.
My mind spins through the years, lands on the service station. I relive making the phone call, ending the months of tension that had been slowly building until it felt like I either had to make the call or scream.
Should have screamed.
I should have done that the first time he laid his hand on my leg.
Too late now.
Whatever masquerade I might have played out to get here, it’s all over. I can’t go back and rewrite the bits I don’t like, tweak the scenes until they work out in my favour.
My past is set in stone. My future hardening into shape already.
Stefan pulls open the door and I swing my legs out. They’re not happy about it, trembling the moment I ask them to take my weight.
I step back so Stefan can swing the door closed, then tilt my head forward, screwing my eyes shut. I need him to not concentrate on me. Not concentrate on how the back of my sweatpants bulge out. “So, are you one of Wilbur’s lackeys?”
I expect him to take the words as the insult I intend them to be, but the giant man just laughs and shakes his head. “He’s financing my latest project so, yes. For the foreseeable, I’m his bitch.”
And of course, it comes back to money. Doesn’t it always?
Even this man who’s wearing a suit worth more than my car is in thrall to him because of it. Instead of the usual despair, a coil of rage heats me. “So, you’re just going to deliver me to him? Do you often fetch teenage girls for rich, old men or is this a new start-up for you?”
His eyes stare at me, emerging from the shadows on his face long enough to feel like they’re piercing straight into my soul. He moves, arms going around me, and I lean into him, thinking it’s a hug.
Instead, his hand lands on the weapon.
He wasn’t trying to grab a handful of my arse, ending with a palm of firearm instead. No. He went right for it.
With a sinking feeling in my gut, I realise he probably knew from the start. From the moment I exited the bathroom with it shoved down my pants, he must have seen it. Seen it, dismissed it, and now it could pose a hazard, he’s removing it.
He steps away from me, holding it carefully, sliding back the bolt to check the chamber. With a practised motion, he expels the magazine and peers inside, then rolls the topmost bullets with his thumb and slots the whole thing back in again.
When he primes the slide, I can hear the difference from when I did it. Once again, he takes my thought out of mid-air.
“It wouldn’t have fired,” he says in a voice that’s almost apologetic. “Maybe one day, I’ll take you along to a gun range and we can teach you how to prep it properly.”
One day. I smile at the thought he really believes that’s an option, all the while knowing he probably doesn’t. A gangster’s attempt at light conversation, talking about an imaginary date handling weapons.
He tucks the gun away in nearly the same position I had it, in the back of his waistband. With his belt snug around his midriff, it stays in place, peeking above the fabric before he pulls his shirt down to cover it.
My only defence now in the hands of the man who’s walking me back to the enemy.
“You know he’s not my boyfriend, right?” I finally dare to look Stefan in the face again, hoping against hope that at this late stage, he’s persuadable. “Whatever he told you, that’s not it.”
“He told me he’s involved with a girl who’s carrying his child and he’s concerned about their welfare.”
So nondescript, I can imagine the words coming out of Wilbur’s mouth. A man so used to speaking in vagueness that he’s impossible to pin down.
“And did he tell you how old I—”
“Honey, I don’t care. How or why you got together is your business. My business is bringing you back to a client who is worth multi-million dollars in commission, annually.”
