Up In Flames

by Alexx Andria

  The best thing for her would be to find someone who can take her in because he wasn’t fit to care for a plant much less another human being.

  And if he needed confirmation of that fact, all he had to do was remember Ashley and how well things had turned out for her by being associated with him.

  Yeah, pretty damn effective.

  -3-

  Angel climbed out of her jeans, grimacing at the grime she felt beneath her fingertips and climbed into the shower. In another lifetime, she would’ve been horrified by Pyro’s shower. It was nearly as disgusting as a few truck stop bathrooms she’d seen but the Angel who cared about such superficial things was long dead. She stood under the spray and let the hot water sluice away the pain and metallic smell of the chemicals oozing from her pores and when she was able, she lathered up with the small sliver of soap on the ledge. Her legs and ribs still bore bruises from where she’d been “encouraged” to try the newest batch of Frazil that the cook had mixed up and even though she’d begged to be left alone, they’d made her try it anyway. At least this batch hadn’t killed her.

  Roxanne hadn’t been as lucky.

  But then nobody cared about a two-dollar street walker, right? She didn’t even know if Roxy’s body had been found yet. Angel closed her eyes and tears leaked from her eyes. This was her penance for being a shitty person…and an even worse mother.

  She bit back the sob that threatened to pop from her mouth when she thought of her situation and she knew she was royally fucked. Pyro wanted to know what kind of trouble she was in? The worst kind. The kind where there was no easy out and the chances of survival were slim. She had no one in this world who cared about her and no one who could help. She had to do as she was told or else…Angel couldn’t even handle the thought.

  How could she have been so blind? So stupid?

  “When she grows up, she’s going to be pretty,” Benton had observed, almost clinically one day as they’d been sitting around the house after getting high together. She and Benton had been together for four months and he hadn’t seemed to mind that she had a kid. They’d had some good times together and he’d always seemed to have cash, which for someone like Angel, who was always strapped, he seemed a good catch…particularly when he kicked in for rent and paid for groceries. But she hadn’t liked the speculative look in his eyes and had actually scooped Mila up from the floor where she’d been playing quietly with her toys. “Bring her to me,” he suggested but Angel just stared, frowning at his odd request. He laughed at her reluctance and popped to his feet to gently run his hand over Mila’s little head. “Aren’t we a cute little family?” At first her heart had leapt at the possibility until he’d followed with, “You know kids can be good little earners under the right circumstances,” and Mila, only two years old, had whimpered and tried to move away from his touch. That should’ve been a sign but Angel had been too stupid to see anything aside from what she perceived as a good guy in her life.

  “I’m going to put her down for a nap,” Angel had said uneasily, quickly moving away from Benton and the weird vibe she was getting from him. She should’ve packed her shit that day but by the time she’d returned Benton seemed normal again and she’d forgotten about the odd incident, chalking it up to the drugs.

  But she’d only caught a glimpse of the evil beneath the surface.

  She learned soon enough how Benton made his cash.

  And before she knew it…he’d roped her into it, too. She’d been responsible for bringing in new testers for the Frazil, a hybrid crank that was laced with God-knows-what and cut with the cheapest ingredients possible, which produced a longer, more addictive high. She’d tried to stop but Benton had doped her up whenever she protested too loudly. It was a sick merry-go-round that she couldn’t seem to jump free. Secretly, she’d been trying to figure out a way to run but Benton had always seemed one step ahead of her.

  Which brought her to today.

  And the fact that Benton was holding her baby girl hostage until she delivered Pyro.

  Benton didn’t care that she didn’t have a clue as to how she was going to manage that — just that it was done. Mila’s life was on the line. He’d made that very clear.

  “Here’s the situation,” Benton instructed, ignoring her tears and her pleas. “A valued associate of mine has some unfinished business with a man who goes by the name of Pyro…nasty little dust-up that happened a few years ago that ended up with a dead bitch and my associate’s brother. And as it happens…you know him.”

  She didn’t know how Benton had found out about Pyro and her sister Ashley but he knew details that no one else had known.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about—“

  He shocked her with a brutally quick movement, wrapping a fistful of her hair in his hand and jerking her to him. “Let’s stop with the false protests. I don’t have time for your bullshit. I’ve spent the last four months shacking up with you and it’s been excruciating so spare me the little denials. I know you’re Ashley’s little sister and you were there that night. You, sweet cheeks, are a loose end that someone has been looking to snip for a very long time. But as it so happens…you are more useful alive — for the moment.”

  “I don’t know where to find Pyro. I haven’t seen him in years,” she cried, blinking against the pain. “I swear it!”

  “Lucky for you, we know exactly where he is. Now listen up,” he pulled her close and shook her a little. “Are you paying attention? Good. You’re going to find Pyro and you’re going to gain his trust and then you’re going to convince him to go somewhere of our choosing — we’ll let you know — and if you do this for me I’ll do you a solid and cut you loose.”

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. How had she ever thought this evil bastard was a good guy? “I don’t understand.”

  Benton affected an apologetic look as he answered with a shrug, “Just business, babe. Just business.” He released her and she fell to the floor. “Get up,” he told her, walking away as if he hadn’t just thrown a bomb into her world. When she didn’t budge, he stopped and his gaze narrowed. “Problem?”

  “Fuck you,” she said, climbing to her feet, spitting venom even as her entire body shook. “You no-good liar! What makes you think I’ll do this for you? I’d rather die than help you do shit! You’ve kept me doped up on that fucking shit you’re cooking up and now you want me to lure some guy to his death? I haven’t seen Pyro in years and I doubt he’d do anything for me if I asked so you’re just going to have to find someone else to do your dirty work.”

  “That’s unfortunate,” Benton said. “Then you have absolutely no value to me. Your daughter on the other hand…”

  Her blood chilled and she clenched her fists, wanting to bury them in his smug face. “Don’t you dare talk about my daughter or I’ll—“

  “You’ll what? You’re a shitty mother, why start trying now?” The smirk on his face made her want to howl but she stood rigid and silent, wishing he would drop dead right there. He advanced toward her, an air of menace swirling around him like a noxious cloud, as he gripped her by the throat, his voice dangerously soft. “Let me tell you why you’re going to do as you’re told…because if you don’t, I’ll sell that sweet little girl of yours to the highest bidder. You’d be surprised how much people will pay to take the virginity of a child. Of course, there’s the real perverts who want them real young and end up splitting the kid in two when they try to fuck them but the connoisseurs, they know that the real prize is worth waiting for and they are willing to pay out the nose for the treat of taking that sweet cherry.”

  Angel tasted bile as horror climbed her throat. “Please…please don’t hurt my baby…she’s all I have…”

  His gaze hardened as he shoved her against the wall, banging her head hard. “Then you should’ve taken better care of her and stayed away from a man like me, sweetheart.” He shocked her when he ground his mouth against hers in a disgusting kiss that made
her want to retch and then released her. He tossed a piece of paper at her, which was scribbled with an address. “You have a week to convince Pyro. After that…the bidding begins. For Mila’s sake…don’t fail.”

  ***

  The sound of the shower did nothing to distract Pyro from the inappropriate wandering of his thoughts. He had so much guilt and rage caged in his heart over what’d happened to Ashley that he didn’t know if he had room to stuff Angel in there, too, but it seemed his debt had no ceiling.

  Seeing Angel again brought up memories no amount of booze and sleep deprivation could bury.

  “The sonogram is tomorrow, do you think you can make it?”

  The hopefulness in Ashley’s voice poked at him and he knew it was shitty but he wasn’t cut out to be anyone’s father, so the sooner she learned and moved on, she could find someone who would be a good father to their kid. “I got plans,” he said curtly, ignoring the wince of disappointment in her pretty face. She was too sweet for her own good. But because he was too much of a coward to just break up with her and be done with it, he tacked on grudgingly, “Well, maybe I can find time to stop by. What time?”

  She brightened like sunshine peeking out from behind a cloud as she told him, “Ten o’clock, at Mercy General” and he wanted to lose himself in a bottle for the number he was doing on this poor girl’s life. Hard to believe but he cared for Ashley, even if his actions told a different story. He’d never planned to knock her up. He’d never planned to drag her into a lifestyle that didn’t suit her. But then, who planned to fuck up? No one. It just happened. Sort of like, it just happened that the condom broke during one of his drunken moments when he was so horny he would’ve fucked a knothole. Yeah, like that.

  “No promises, but, yeah, I’ll try.” Maybe he was telling the truth at that moment or maybe he’d just told her something to lessen the burden of guilt for being such a shit, but either way, he hadn’t made it to that sonogram.

  If he’d known it would be the only time he’d hear his baby’s heartbeat, he might’ve made more of an effort.

  Maybe hearing that little blip-blip-blip on the machine would’ve unlocked whatever decency he’d had left-over from childhood and he would’ve been able to turn things around. Make changes that mattered.

  Fuck! Why was drowning in memories he wanted to forget? He scrubbed his face and moved to the kitchen to find himself some whiskey. Bury the pain, obliterate the burden. That was his motto. He downed a shot of the cheap whiskey and didn’t even wince at the familiar burn down his throat. He followed with another. By the third, he was feeling it and could breathe again.

  The bathroom door opened with a cloud of steam and Angel emerged with a towel wrapped tightly around her thin frame. Her skin, scrubbed clean, had lost some of the sallow coloring and he was struck by how different she seemed. Her eyes, green as a summer meadow, were different from Ashley’s but just as mesmerizing and it took a moment to realize he was staring.

  “Do you have a shirt I could borrow?” she asked, lifting her chin as she met his gaze. “Mine smells like puke.”

  “Uh, yeah, sure,” he responded, snapping out of his stupor and moving to his room to grab something. He found an old rock T-shirt and handed it to her along with a pair of ratty sweat pants that didn’t fit him any longer but would at least cover her ass. “It’s not the best but it’s clean,” he told her as she accepted the clothing with a short grateful nod. She disappeared back into the bathroom and he let out a shaky breath. What was wrong with him? Panting after a girl who was too young for one, and two, he had no business even thinking about. Pathetic. Way to go, Pyro. When you fuck up, you go all in. He shook his head in disgust at himself and stalked away from the bathroom door to throw some more soup in a bowl. He could keep shoving food down her throat at the very least.

  Angel exited the bathroom, fully dressed, though the old pants hung on her frame and the rock tee clung to her tits in a way that immediately made his pants tight. She carried her soiled clothing in a ball clutched to her chest as she made an attempt to look around, saying, “If you’ve got a washing machine, I could throw these in and get your clothes back to you.”

  “Washing machine is downstairs. Leave it on the floor and I’ll get it done for you. I have a feeling you might not want to run into my neighbor again.”

  She nodded and dropped the wad of clothing near the bedroom door. “Thanks,” she said, her voice still hoarse. She sniffed the air, realizing the soup was bubbling and she admitted, “You’re pretty good with a soup can. Either that, or I’m pretty damn hungry.”

  “Probably the latter. Go sit down and I’ll bring it to you. We’ve got some talking to do and you still don’t look strong enough to hold much more than a napkin.”

  Angel’s expression puckered into a scowl as she said, “I’m not made of China. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time now.”

  “Yeah and doing a bang up job of it, I can see,” he quipped darkly. He didn’t care if she didn’t like what he had to say. She came to him — not the other way around. Angel slid into the cracked dining room chair and accepted the steaming bowl with a murmured thanks and then slowly started eating. Her color was better but the rings under her eyes told a story that he knew well enough. “How long you been a junkie?” he asked, going straight to the point.

  “I’m not a junkie,” she shot back with a glower over her soup bowl. “And since when did you get all judgy? I remember when you weren’t above doing a line or smoking a joint.”

  “Not talking about me. We’re talking about you. The girl I remember was a pudgy sixteen-year-old who cared more about her cell phone and her next exam than a woman who’s obviously strung out and looking as if she’s been walking Ninth Street at night.”

  “I told you, I’m not a whore,” Angel said quietly, scratching at her forearm with a cranky movement.

  “Then tell me what happened.”

  Angel deliberately ladled another bite into her mouth as if stalling but he had no doubt the hunger was real. He allowed her the brief moment but as the silence continued, he sank into the chair beside her with a grunt, saying, “You will give me answers or you’ll find yourself in the first cab out of here.”

  -4-

  The hot soup was doing a good job of soothing the acid bath in her gut but the intense look in Pyro’s gaze sent her nerves into chaos. She couldn’t escape the way his eyes seemed to bore into her soul and pluck at her raw heart in a way that scared her. She hadn’t remembered Pyro being so fucking primal, so quintessentially male. Her tongue darted out to lick the remnants of her soup from her lips and Pyro’s jaw tightened as if he were pissed off and agitated for deeper reasons than the fact that she was an uninvited guest.

  Benton told her to gain his trust. How was she supposed to do that? Pyro didn’t trust anyone and he had zero reasons to put his trust in her. She was plainly drugged up, fighting addiction and on the run. Mila’s little face popped into her thoughts and she sucked in a short breath as pain arced across her heart. Mila was counting on her. Her baby was in the worst possible hands and if she failed, Mila…Angel couldn’t even fathom the depravity Benton would gleefully inflict on her child.

  “Do you ever think of her?” Angel asked, deliberately going for the jugular to throw him off her trail. She trailed her spoon through the remaining broth. Pyro settled back, kicking his leg out casually but the hard glint in his eyes was anything but. She tacked on unnecessarily, “My sister, Ashley.”

  “I know who you meant.”

  She shrugged. “Just checking. It’s been a while.”

  “Six years.”

  Angel nodded. Genuine tears sprang to her eyes at the mere mention of Ashley. God, she missed her sister. Maybe things would’ve been different if Ashley had lived, if perhaps she’d never met Pyro. “I think of her everyday.”

  “Is that why you came? To walk down Memory Lane?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so. Get to the point. Why are you
here? What kind of trouble are you in? You keep telling me you’re not a whore but you show up on my doorstep, drugged up and running from someone. If it ain’t a pimp you’re running from…who’s after you?”

  Angel worried a hangnail on her index finger, her skin starting to itch again. “An ex-boyfriend. He…beats me and forces me to do drugs. I had to get away.” The best lie was a partial truth. She’d learned that on the streets a long time ago. “I asked around and found your address. You were the only person I knew wouldn’t be scared of him.”

  “Yeah? And why is that?”

  “Because everyone is scared of you.”

  He chuckled but there was a speculative light in his eyes that made her nervous. “Okay, let’s just say I believe some of your story because I see the bruises and you were definitely fucked up when you arrived…I don’t believe that you just asked around and someone told you where I live. Try again. This time…try the full truth.”

  She opened her mouth to protest but Pyro could see right through her, which only meant she needed to up her game. She let the spoon fall into the bowl with a clatter. “I only need a few days. I’m not asking you to take me in forever. All I’m asking for is a few days. After everything you’ve done to fuck up my life, you can’t give me that?”

  Bullseye. He didn’t visibly flinch but she sensed she’d managed to shove an arrow right through the cracks in the armor to the soft flesh beneath. “A few days…that’s all you need to get your head straight?” he finally asked, the wary tone betraying his reluctance. “How are you going to keep this asshole from tracking you down?”

  She smiled. “That’s what you’re here for. I’m sure you can persuade him to leave me alone if he shows up.”

  He grunted in agreement, rubbing his stubbled chin, drawing her attention to the strong, angular jaw, and the muscles hiding beneath his wife-beater. She swallowed and darted her gaze, confused and alarmed by the sudden bent of her thoughts. She’d done a lot of things she wasn’t proud of but noticing Pyro in anyway that even hinted at sexual made her ill. Pyro leaned forward, both arms stretched out on the table, looking mean and menacing and all things bad, and said, “I hope he shows up” before pushing off and going to the kitchen to pour himself a shot of whiskey.