I reach up and scratch at that confidence as I continue to stare at the man in front of me. If I’m gonna go out, I’m not going out like a coward. I’ll be looking him right in the eyes when all this ends.
At that moment, the man lifts a hand, and just like that, coward Daisy is back.
“Wait, wait, wait!” I practically scream as I shrink back into the seat beneath me. “Please don’t kill me!”
Wooooooow.My internal bitch, otherwise known as Mean Daisy—thedeeplyburied badass that I carry inside of me—whistles beneath her breath.You are such a fucking pussy.
She’s right, but she doesn’t need to point it out.
The man before me pauses and then frowns. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says testily, as if he’s annoyed by my hysteria. “You have a streak of black on your cheek.”
“Oh.” I absently shove my palm up the side of my face and it comes away with a dusting of my mascara. “Thanks,” I mumble, cheeks heating again.
The man in a pristine suit slowly goes down on his haunches before me and then carefully tucks a knee under himself on the floor. The crisp white shirt and black tie that matches the rest of his suit wrinkles upward with the movement, and he smooths it down before speaking again.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
“Daisy,” I answer suspiciously.
His frown deepens.
“What’s with the frown?” I snap. “Does my name offend you?”
The man snorts, and the soft fall of dark hair shifts against one side of his head. “No. It’s just that’s not a damned name,” he states. “It’s a flower.” He shakes his head. Then, absently, he mutters, “Fucking hippies and their fascinations.”
“Hey, my parents weren’t hippies,” I gripe. “If you hate my name, then why don’t you share yours? I’m sure it’s the coolest name ever, right?” I cross my arms and nod my head to him expectantly. “Well?”
Sometimes, the best way to forge ahead is to forget that the man you’re talking to could order your death in an instant, and word vomit all over him—at least, that’s what I tell myself to excuse my brazenness. That, and maybe I was dropped on my head a few dozen times as an infant.
One curved brow arches. “Well, what?”
I snarl. “What’s your name, Mr. I Hate Pretty Floral Names?”
A glitter of something illuminates the frost in his eyes. I get the feeling he’s not often challenged by others. His lips pinch down slightly at the corners, but those corners trembleas if he’s suppressing amusement. “Unfortunately, I won’t be able to give you my name unless you can do something for me, Daisy.”
My hands tighten against either side of my arms, and I instinctively squeeze myself a bit tighter. “Wh-what is it?” I manage to stutter out, anxiety crawling viciously up my throat. My eyes flick to the dead woman and then back, but the man merely tilts his head.
“I’m sure you’re aware that what you’ve seen here today can’t be reported,” he says in a conversational tone.
At his back, the three other men remain quiet, watching the two of us with a mixture of curiosity and slight unease.
I bob my head in what I’m sure is an expected move. “Of course,” I say. “I won’t say anything to anyone.”
The man draws in a long breath. “Unfortunately, your word means nothing in my world. I’m sure you understand.” I don’t, but I press my lips together as he continues. “So, there are really only two options left for you.”
Options? I have options?I sit forward. “Does one of these options involve me continuing to breathe?”
The twitching corners of masculine lips draw my attention. “Yes,” he drawls—and suddenly, the skies open up and sunshine beams down on the room. Phantom birdsong fills the space around me.
I know that’s physically impossible, but in my mind, that’s exactly what’s happening. Somehow, four years of constant stress, essays, and exams haven’t completely drained me of the will to live. Even if living means becoming some mobster’s errand girl, life is still life.
“I’ll do it,” I say quickly before he even draws another breath to continue talking. “Whatever you want. I’ll do it.”
With his hand back on his suit, slipping under the jacket and into an inner pocket that I can’t see, my heart rate speeds up.Oh God, I didn’t agree fast enough. This is the end of the road, Daisy. He’s got a gun, and he’s going to shoot me. I’m about to be plucked and fucked—and again, not in the fun way.
I return to staring at the dead woman on the floor. I can’t end up in the same grave as a stranger. I only deal with strangers for work. I don’t want to be attached to one for the rest of my life or death. The only reason I filled in for Michelle today was because, with tips, the pay was too good to pass up.
Take it from me, the risk isn’t worth the reward. Stay home and away from strangers.
