The sooner Ant and I can swing a new place, the better.
Upstairs, I tap in the code and twist the handle, frowning when it doesn’t release. I try again, then a third time for good luck, then dissolve into a long string of foul curses before yanking at the handle again.
I clear the keypad, count off two minutes using my phone screen, then try the four-digit code again.
Still nothing.
“Ant?” I hammer on the door, hoping against hope he’s in the bathroom and about to emerge to hear me knocking. “It’s me. Can you let me in?”
There are footsteps and I inhale a deep breath of relief, stepping aside to give him room as I hear the lock disengage. The door swings inwards, then a hand bunches in my shirt, dragging me inside and slamming the door shut behind me.
Vale shoves me against the closed door, putting his face close to mine. “Hey, Evie. Remember when Blaine and you had that little chat and you agreed to leave town?”
He licks the pad of his thumb and uses it to smooth my eyebrow. The touch makes me flinch, temples thumping, pulse jumping like a horse bolting from the starting gate.
“I’d say you should have followed through on your word but then I wouldn’t be having this lovely chat, would I?” The heel of his palm digs into my shoulder, holding me steady while his gaze wanders around the room. “You really live in complete squalor. I would’ve thought you’d be glad of the money. Especially when there was only one string attached.” His eyes jerk back to my face, drilling into mine until I can’t tear my gaze away, doom settling over me like a weighted blanket.
“If Blaine sent you here, you can report back that Maddox wouldn’t touch me with a barge pole. He doesn’t need to worry about his son any longer.”
“We’re past that stage, Evie. Nobody is worried about Maddox, but you still defied us. You still warrant punishment and I’m in the mood for a little fun.”
His words drill into my ears, unleashing a wave of cold dread. I can’t run from the flat, not without overpowering him and I’ve fought him before. It didn’t work. It just made him more excited.
“Your phone.”
Vale holds out his hand and I reluctantly hand over the device, scared I’ve just made the move that will seal my fate. He backs up a few steps, perhaps to lull me into a false sense of complacency, perhaps just to gain distance. His fastidiousness always was at odds with his twisted desires.
I ease away from the door, and he positions himself so I have to go through him to reach the handle, playing right into his extremely fucked-up hands.
Instead, I fold my arms over my chest, hugging myself for comfort.
And the moment I see his shoulders relax, I lunge for the bathroom, slamming the door and flicking the lock.
A temporary measure at best. The door shakes as Vale launches a volley of kicks at it, twisting the handle so roughly I’m surprised it doesn’t come off in his hand.
I grab my angled toothbrush and wedge it in the gap under the door. Two dollars’ worth of hard plastic the only reinforcement as the full weight of Vale’s body thumps against the cheap wood, his fists battering, feet stamping, shoulder crashing under the lock until it splinters.
He bellows, and the door shakes more with every blow.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
MADDOX
The club’sonly just heating up when I storm through the entrance, dragging a reluctant goat along behind me. I would happily have left yet-to-be-named in the back seat of my vehicle, but she’s already tried to nibble my leather seats.
With each second, my apology present seems dafter. I could have had it written out on a fancy card with gold lettering: good for one goat, rather than dragging the actual animal straight from its country home into the middle of a strip club.
The plaintive bleating draws a few glances but, for the most part, the earlybird punters have their eyes locked to the stage.
My glance goes there too but I’m relieved to see it’s not Evie shaking her arse under the desultory lights.
“Excuse me, sir,” the cashier belatedly yells, stalking after me. “You can’t bring that animal in here.”
“It’ll just be for a few minutes,” I say, thrusting a few notes her way when my assurance does nothing to sway her. “I’m collecting someone, then we’ll get out of your hair. Zane!” I cry in relief, spotting my friend near the bar. “Can you lend a hand?”
He stares at me like I’ve grown two heads and fair enough. When I said I had the perfect idea of an apology present for Evie, he probably thought I meant flowers or jewellery.
Instead of helping, he contorts with laughter, shaking his head.
