by LP Lovell
I lean over her and brush a knuckle down her cheek. "What did I tell you about asking questions?" I murmur. She drops her chin to her chest, and I notice her hands form angry little fists. "Good. There's a man who wants you, and not in a good way. So you come with me, or you die. Your choice, sweetheart."
"What are you talking about, Ezra?" She is too calm. "Who wants me?"
"Questions..." I warn as I shove a handful of clothes in the bag.
"Someone wants to kill me?"
"He doesn't want to kill you," I growl, turning to face her. "He wants to buy you." I step closer to her. "He wants to fuck you, and hurt you, and then he will sell you to the highest bidder so that they can fuck you and hurt you." I cup her jaw, stroking a thumb over her cheek. "And they will make what I do to you look like Disneyland, little killer."
Her eyes narrow. "What's his name?"
"Zee." I turn away and rip open another drawer. "He's a trafficker."
"How does he know about me?" Her jaw ticks. "What, were you trying to sell me to him before you decided you like hurting me yourself? Is that what the little tests of yours were about?"
I take a deep breath, willing myself to have patience. "He was one of my clients. And no, I whore girls out, I don't fucking sell them."
"Why isn't he your client any longer?"
"Jesus-Fucking-Christ, Evie. Enough!" I snap. "He was a client, he killed a girl, I cut him off. He's pissed, and now he's coming after my girls, namely you. You are coming with me if I have to drag you by your fucking hair." I pick up the suitcase and walk out of the room. I don't even know what I'm doing, but all I know is I would sooner just give up and hand myself over to the UK government before I let that little ball bag win. He will not have Evie.
I drag her suitcase down the stairs, Dave, my ever present shadow, following me as I go to the car, pop the boot, and toss the luggage inside.
Evie appears a few minutes later with a frown fixed on her features.
"Get in the car," I tell her.
She opens the door, letting Dave inside before she slides into the passenger seat. She stares out the window as we pull away from her apartment complex, and I turn up the radio, blasting Guns n' Roses around the car.
A few minutes later she turns the radio down and stares at me, fiddling nervously with her hands. "What was her name?" she whispers.
"Who?"
"The girl he killed. What was her name?" Her voice hitches and I glance at her. Her eyes fill with tears, and her teeth are buried in her bottom lip.
"Sophie."
She slams her eyes closed and nods slowly as she stares out the passenger window. I turn my attention back to the road. "Who was she to you?" I don't know Evie well, but she's a killer, a whore, not the sort of person to pity a strange girl she doesn't know. People like she and I, we are creatures of the underworld, we do not shed tears for strangers.
"My sister." Her voice is detached, devoid of emotion. Sophie was her sister? Shit. "Her real name was Hannah."
Sophie was a good girl and an even better whore. She was one of the broken ones, and I almost felt sorry for her. In this industry, you don't often have to deal with the consequences of your actions, but now here I am sat in a car with those consequences. Sophie was a whore, but she was also a sister. She had someone who loved her, and now she's dead. Do I blame myself? No. She knew what she was getting into when she took the job on. I gave her a means to earn money. I'm a businessman, not a fucking charity. But I know I should have been more careful with Zee, more careful with her. I didn't look out for her when I should have.
I won't let Zee get Evie. I owe Sophie that much. At least, that's what I'm telling myself.
I try not to think of Hannah as I look out the window. I watch the people walking on the street, staring at a family laughing, and I try to think of what love must feel like. We come to a red light and my gaze locks on a man panhandling for money.
Ezra's phone rings and he snatches it from the console to answer it. "Yeah."
There's a long pause, and then he slams his hand over the steering wheel, dropping his head forward. "Fucking shit! Find her Jonty. I fucking want her back!" Another pause. "Fine. I'll go to the girl's place now."
The light turns green, and Ezra floors the accelerator, the car fishtailing as he makes a U-turn. Cars honk as he swerves in front of them. I press my back to the seat and remain silent despite the nagging urge to ask him what's going on. I know better than to ask him questions when he's angry.
Ten minutes later the car comes to an abrupt stop, the seatbelt digging into my chest.
"Get out," Ezra says as he cuts the ignition and flings the door open.
I do as told and hurry to keep up with him. We head toward the apartments on the corner of the road. They look like vintage 1930s bungalows, fresh paint on the brickwork, new windows with lovely little flower boxes beneath them. As soon as Ezra reaches the door, it opens.
A woman steps through the door and throws her arms around Ezra's neck. She's young with long blonde hair falling down her back in perfect waves. She looks like a cheerleader with her tiny shorts and a tight t-shirt.
"Please find her, Ez." She's crying on him. She's giving him her tears, and then I wonder if he beat her and fucked her the same way he did me. I wonder if he told her she tasted like heaven, and the thought makes me enraged.
Ezra places his hands around her delicate waist, taking a step back as he removes her arms from his neck.
"Lola, I need you to show me the security footage from this morning." She nods, sniffing away her tears.
I follow Ezra as he walks into the building, and is greeted by a string of girls. Every one of them tries to touch him like he is a god they worship. When they call him Ez, it makes my jaw clench. His name is Ezra, not Ez. They glare at me when I pass them, judging me. I know they wonder why I'm with him, and I want to scream that it's because I'm the whore he will fuck, not them, me!
"You stay here," Ezra says to me before following Lola into her apartment.
I lean against the wall, keeping my eyes on the floor. I see their shoes walk past me, I hear them whispering to one another, and it makes me wonder if they have ever seen Ezra with a woman before. See, Evelyn, you are special.
I remember Hannah telling me he was putting her up in a luxury apartment. I remember her begging me to come work for him, how highly she spoke of the man she intended to kill. I couldn't bear the thought of letting a man beat me before I killed him, but now, after being with Ezra, I can see what Hannah saw in it. She realized that she could be forgiven by the very men she killed. I don't even notice that I'm walking away from the door until I come to the end of the hallway. I turn around, glancing back down the hall. One door opens, and a dark headed woman saunters out in a short purple dress. She turns to lock the door and catches sight of me. Her eyes narrow.
"Which was Sophie's room?" I ask.
She stares at me, taking several steps in my direction. I watch her eyes study my face. I see that she notices the similarities between my sister and me. "Why?" she swallows and tears well in her brown eyes.
"I'm her sister...Ezra brought me here."
Her breath hitches. "I'm so sorry." She shakes her head and leads me past two doors before stopping. "This one. We haven't touched it yet," she says and walks off.
I inhale before I place my hand on the knob and open the door. She'd lived with me before she took that job with Ezra six months ago. I missed her so much when she moved, but she told me part of her deal was she couldn't have visitors, and she couldn't go out without permission. The inside is immaculate, furnished with the kind of furniture you see in Pottery Barn advertisements. I step inside and close the door behind me. It still smells like her—like cherry blossom and vanilla. I fight the tears building in my eyes because I don't want to cry. I trail my fingers over the back of the sofa, trying to remember Hannah any other way than in that bag, but I can't. I round the front of the couch and sit down. I can feel her here.
&n
bsp; "Dear God, please help me. Please guide me. Please let me kill the man who took my sister from me." I feel a tear trickle down my cheek and quickly swipe it away. I skim the room, and on the edge of the coffee table is Hannah's ring. I pick it up, rolling it between my fingers. This was our bond. Killing evil men was the way we righted the wrong. I flip the lid and find the inside of the ring empty, only a trace of arsenic inside. Why did she not give this to the man who killed her? I close my eyes again. "Please bless me. Please forgive me, and Hannah, and Ezra..."
I feel something nudge my elbow, and I open my eyes to find Dave next to me, his tail wagging as he stares at me. I hesitate before I skim my fingers over the smooth fur on his head. I know Ezra is here, I can sense his presence, feel him watching me. I stand and turn, and there he is, leaning against the door frame, his thick arms folded across his chest. My eyes trace over the ink that winds around his arms. He's like a devil, or a demon, something wicked. A beautiful demon.
His dark eyes watch me; his expression is tight. "Never met a whore who prayed before," he mumbles.
"Hannah prayed."
"Huh." He cocks a brow. "She didn't strike me as the type," he says with such a coldness to his voice, I shiver. I hear what he doesn't say, he thinks we're both hypocrites. How can a whore pray?
"Sinners pray," I tell him, my chest tightening.
A condescending smile shapes his lips. "If you say so. We need to go." He turns away and Dave trots after him. And just like his dog, I follow after him.
Ezra closes the door to the office. Jonty is sitting behind Ezra's desk, his enormous body looking cramped in the chair. He smiles at me and the scar on his face creases into a jagged dent.
I take a seat on the couch and Dave pads over to me, staring at me as he rests his head in my lap.
Ezra bristles with impatience as he waits for Jonty to finish on the phone. When he hangs up, he leans back in the chair, releasing a long breath. "Nothing, Ez. I can't find shit."
"Motherfucker!" Ezra inhales, scrubbing his hand over his face.
"He must be selling them within twenty-four hours, probably has some fuckers ordering them, and he's just picking off the ones he needs." Jonty's eyes skirt over to me, then back to Ezra.
"Goddamn it!" Ezra groans as he slings the door to the office open.
I glance over at Jonty and immediately run after Ezra. I follow him down the hallway and then down the stairs. He storms through the club until he comes to a door marked 'Staff Only'. He punches in a code on the keypad. The lock clicks, the door releases, and there's another set of steps, descending into the cellar.
"Ezra!" I call after him. But he ignores me, pulling a cord hanging from the ceiling.
A dull yellow haze casts over kegs of beer and wooden crates. Ezra rummages through one of the crates, slinging things around. He finds a metal box and pulls it up, opening the lid and removing blocks of what look like explosives. He closes the box and shoulders past me without a word. I follow behind him, winding my way back up the stairs and to the hallway until we're back at his office.
He points inside. "Go sit."
I look at Jonty still sitting behind the desk and swallow. "I want to go with you," I say timidly.
"What the fuck do you think you are? My pet dog?" He turns away from me. "Jonty, don't let her out of your sight." And he walks off.
I grit my teeth as I watch him strut down the dim hallway and disappear around a corner. I hate the way he makes me crave him despite how brutally cruel he is.
"You going to stand there all night, or come sit down. I don't bite," Jonty says, an amused smile on his lips.
"He just left me..." I go into the office, standing close to the door.
He laughs, taking a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and holding them out to offer me one. I shake my head, and he places one between his lips, lighting it. "Word of advice, treacle, Ezra James is one mean bastard." He exhales a long stream of smoke. "Helping you may well be the first decent thing I've ever seen him do." He coughs.
"It's only because he likes to hurt me."
He chuckles again. "Yep. Sick fuck." His eyes slide over my body and bile rises in my throat. "I wouldn't hurt you, sweet thing." I take a step back, and he snorts. "I'm joking. Shit. I like my balls right where they are. Ezra... he's like a pit bull with a bone. Do not touch. At least not ‘til he's through chewing on it."
Jonty has had a tail on Zee for a couple of days now, but he doesn't seem to follow much of a routine. As far as we know, he hasn't been near any suspicious places. I watch from my car as Zee opens his door and climbs out of the car, clicking the locks as he walks up to a townhouse. He knocks on the door, and a woman answers, smiling wide when she sees him. He grabs her face and kisses her before pushing her back inside. Maybe this is one of his whore houses, or maybe he just has a bit on the side. Difficult to imagine with his tastes.
As soon as the upstairs light comes on, I move, crossing the road and ducking down behind his car. I unzip the duffle bag and pull out two blocks of C4. Bombs aren't my forte, this is more Jonty's shit, but I can wire a simple car bomb. I wire a mobile phone to the detonator and duct tape it to the blocks of explosive.
I lie down on my back and slide underneath the car, pausing to listen for any movement from the house. Zee is probably balls deep in that woman by now, blissfully unaware, but the last thing I need is to get fucking caught.
I tape the bomb to the chassis right in the centre of the car and turn the phone on. Zee will learn what happens when you fuck with me. I can't kill him, not yet at least, but I just need to remind him that I can. Anytime I fucking like.
I hop up and jog across the street, getting back in my car. And then, I wait. I wait for three fucking hours until Zee has blown his load, put his dick away, and decides to leave the house. He steps out from the door, and I press the call button on my phone. Zee pauses on the porch, and then his sixty grand BMW explodes in a ball of fire. The windows of my car rattle, and I turn my face from the blinding light. When I look back, Zee is lying on the porch, unmoving.
The only reason he's not a pile of ash on the front seat of his car right now is because of what he has on me, but he needs to remember that I'm not rational, I don't do well with blackmail, and no one fucking shafts me.
I quickly dial Jonty's number.
"Hey," he answers.
"It's done. You hit the warehouse tomorrow. I want that fucker crawling on his knees."
I hang up and pull away from the house, heading back to the club before the cops decide to rock up. If there's one thing that makes me hard, it's blowing shit up. I could call Jen, but now she feels like a shitty substitute for Evie's brand of crazy.
The couch cushion jolts and I hear Dave's nails tap over the floor. I'm slightly disoriented. The room is dark except for a lamp on the desk, and then I remember where I am.
"Well, what are you going to do with her, Ez?" I hear Jonty's voice coming from the other side of the closed door. "You just going to leave her here?"
"I don't fucking know. I don't have time to babysit her, but fuck, Zee will kill her."
"Give over, Ez." Jonty laughs. "You sure as shit aren't keeping her here because you've suddenly developed some sort of moral compass."
"Fuck off."
Jonty laughs again, hacking a cough. "She must really take the belt if you're prepared to go all white knight for her. Not falling for that pretty face are you?"
"Be fucking serious. She's a fun distraction. Takes a beating better than even Jen, and sucks dick almost as well." He laughs. "I'm going home. Take her up to one of the rooms. Just watch her."
My entire body goes up in flames. Ezra told me my lips were made for his cock... My pulse thrums in my neck. He wants to play savior to me. He wants to beat me and use me and fuck me into oblivion, well, I'll show him what a fun little distraction I can be.
The door opens, and Jonty walks in, his eyes straying over to me before he grabs my suitcase. "Come on, treacle. Got a room for you to
stay in."
I sigh and stand up, following him down the hallway. He stops to unlock a door, and I can't ignore the steady string of thuds and squeaking springs coming from the room next to us. There's a fake moan, and the bangs against the wall grow faster. Jonty laughs to himself as the door swings open. He tosses my luggage inside. "Bathroom's at the end of the hall," he says before shutting the door behind him.
The room is bare except for a bed in the center of the room and a radiator beneath the window. I look over the comforter before flipping it back. The sheets smell clean, but I don't take my clothes off before climbing into the bed. No amount of bleach that could wash the filth from these sheets. I lay my head down, and Ezra's snide comment plays on loop in my head. "Takes a beating better than even Jen, and sucks dick almost as well."
There are seven deadly sins. I can manage several of those with a man like Ezra. Lust, pride, envy. Ezra is the kind of person that doesn't like to share. And, much to my surprise, Ezra has made me realize I am a woman who doesn't like to share. I may just be a plaything for him—a distraction. But I am his distraction.
An eye for an eye...
I close my eyes and drift back to sleep, dreaming of all the ways I can have him hurt me.
My phone rings, and I smile when I see Zee's number on the screen.
"Zee, how are you?"
"You're a motherfucker, Ezra, a stupid motherfucker," he curses.
"No, Zee," I laugh. "You're the stupid one for thinking you can fuck with me without consequences. You really think you can take on the mob?"
"Ezra, I can take on, and take down the mob through you."
"Not without taking down yourself. And for what? A little more money? Run while you still have the chance, Zee, sell your slaves, make your money. Survive." I spit the word. "Because if you don't, I'm going to keep coming for you. I might leave you alive, but I will burn your fucking world to the ground."