by Rina Kent
“Well, they deserved it.”
Scarlett’s eyes flash my way, a gleam shining deep within their amber. “You like the idea of people being brutally killed?”
“Only the bad ones.”
“Hmmm.” She straightens and puts a hand on her hip. “Interesting.”
Whatever that means.
I stand and slide into a knee-length empire-styled dress. Even waitresses have to dress in fancy, revealing gowns around here so all the disgusting men get to see the goods. No one’s made a move on me so far – aside from Kyle. Perhaps he was the one who warned the customers off. That’s both a good and a bad thing.
He better not be hoping to get something in return.
“Now, come here.” Scarlett taps the console’s chair.
I sigh and sit for obligatory makeup. Scarlett offered to do it for me because in her words ‘I’m hopeless’. Even after all the practising I did when I prepared to come here.
“Did you also do makeup for your other roomies?” I ask as she applies foundation.
“They weren’t as hopeless as you, Ellie. And I don’t get many roommates. They don’t like my Oasis. Now, shush, don’t move.”
Here we go again. There’s no way to get information out of her when she’s focused on makeup.
Her movements are diligent, professional even. Me, on the other hand? My legs are jiggling and I’m dying of damn boredom. If only this was a boxing match. I miss my morning routines. Running for two hours. Punching the bag for an hour. Strengthening workouts for another hour.
This place is the exact opposite of my comfort zone. I feel like I will explode from pent-up energy.
Scar swats my leg to stop it from moving.
Geez. She’s like a makeup dictator.
I remain still until she’s finished. I try to, anyway.
“Tada!” She whirls me around towards the mirror.
My mouth hangs open. Smoky eyes stare at me. They bring out the blue of my eyes to remarkable brightness. My lips are rosy and fuller than I remember. I look like I could be on a magazine cover.
“You’re welcome!” Scar says with a high-pitched squeal.
“Thanks.” I stand, face her and can’t help the sarcasm. “It must be satisfying to have a hopeless roommate like me.”
“Of course it is!” She turns towards her dress. “The last roommate was good at dolling up, so I had no chance to play around with her. It was boring.”
My breath hitches. Zoe was good at makeup. I always made fun of the amount of money she spent on beauty products. Scar’s roommate seems so awfully similar to Zoe. I fiddle with a bottle of perfume and ask in a nonchalant tone, “What happened to her?”
“Got involved with the wrong people.” Scarlett pauses. “Or more like, the wrong person.”
A rush of adrenaline pushes through me, and I sit down, trying to camouflage it.
What wrong people? Ghost is one of them and the other one is obviously Mist.
Is Julian also involved in this?
My head goes dizzy. I would rather not think about Julian. I’ve been doing my best to avoid him and that dark gaze that seems to capture me whenever he’s in the room.
Scar steps into her dress, head moving to the music. “Did you know Oasis is a legend?”
There she goes, flipping between subjects again. But I need to catch her this time.
“Of course it is. Liam is the best vocalist in the world.” I smile when she bobs her head up and down in agreement.
I play nonchalance as I ask, “So, about your roommate, how did she get involved with the wrong people?”
She zips her dress and faces me. Lace and tulle decorate the lower half, making her appear like a real-life doll. Her expression, however, turns cold, like she isn’t the same bubbly Scarlett from a few minutes ago. “Why are you asking?”
“Um, hello?” I play it cool. “So I can stay as far away as possible from those people?”
She jogs my way and half-hugs my shoulder. It takes everything in me not to push her away. “You don’t have to worry. You’re under Kylie’s and my protection. No one would hurt you.”
I meet her now-warm gaze through the mirror and struggle to maintain a polite tone. “With all due respect, you didn’t help her.”
“Who says I didn’t?” A nostalgic look crosses Scarlett’s features, and it’s like she genuinely misses her roommate. “I told her to stay away, but she wouldn’t listen. The fool.”
I swallow, fingers clenching in the material of my dress. “Is she... dead?”
Scar’s eyes drop to the floor. “Who knows?” Then she meets my stare. “Just stay by Kylie’s and my side and nothing will happen to you. Promise.”
But what about Zoe? I want to scream. If nothing will happen to me, that could mean something has happened to her.
Scar has influential clients, but she wouldn’t be able to help me or anyone if the ruler of this district, the invisible Ghost, gives elimination orders.
Kyle wouldn’t help either. He’s of rank, but he isn’t above Mist. Perhaps, he’s the same rank as Julian. I’ve seen the henchmen pay respect to him when he was sitting alone with Mist in a back table and accepting a drink from her.
A strange feeling of loathing lodges inside me. Just like when I saw them together during Kyle’s birthday party. And then they stormed out together.
They’re none of my damn business. Julian and those dark, destabilising eyes have no place in my plan.
I’m only here for Zoe.
The door swings open without as much as a knock. Mist saunters inside with elegance and haughtiness like she owns the place.
Only, well... she does.
She’s wearing a long-sleeved, tight dress that flatters her slim silhouette to perfection. Nude pumps give her more height than she needs, and her crimson hair is tied in a French twist.
Her gaze falls on how Scar is half-hugging me before she stands in the middle of the room. She crosses her arms under her chest and says, “Out, Scar.”
Scarlett’s hold tightens around my shoulders. The cold merciless stare she gave me earlier returns. It’s like a lethal animal is trapped behind those seemingly docile French-doll eyes. “No.”
Mist taps her red-painted nails on her arm as she repeats in a slow, but more non-negotiable tone. “I said. Out, Scar.”
I face Scarlett. “It’s okay.”
No idea why she’s being aggressive to Mist. They don’t seem to communicate a lot, but I would have thought that they got along considering their positions in Le Salon.
Scarlett releases me and stomps towards the door. She stops near Mist and whispers something in her ear. The only change in Mist’s demeanour is that she stops tapping her fingers.
The door shuts close behind Scar.
I remain seated and face Mist. My body tightens as if I’m about to fight. Now, I wish Scar stayed. She’s possibly the only person I feel comfortable around in this hellhole.
Mist doesn’t usually talk to waitresses. Her main responsibility is the escorts. I managed to stay out of her hawk-like radar these past few days. At least, I thought I did.
“You’re to be dispatched,” she says with that detached tone of hers.
My pulse picks up. No. I did everything to belong here. I even made all my famous cocktails. Why would they want me gone?
I can’t leave now that I’m getting closer to finding more about Zoe.
My back straightens as I stare into Mist glassed over eyes. “I did nothing wrong. Why would I be dispatched?”
She squints for a fraction of a second, then regains her pristine posture. “I need you to deliver something new.”
I narrow my eyes at how she emphasised ‘new.’
“Why me?”
“Why not you?”
My mind goes rampant. What would the redhead witch have me deliver? Drugs? Okay, maybe this isn’t so pointless after all. I will tell Liam about it. Perhaps he can gather enough evidence to make Mist, and therefore, Ghost fall. And
we would know where the hell they have taken Zoe.
Perhaps they made Zoe deliver drugs, too. The fucking thugs.
“I will be giving you a bag. All you have to do is deliver it to a client at a specific address. Don’t look inside. Don’t answer any question. Just deliver.” Mist approaches until she’s a short distance away. “Can you do it?”
“Of course,” I say in a neutral tone.
Time to get the gears moving.
Difference between saying something and doing it? Huge.
My heartbeat thunders as I walk down the second floor’s hall, carrying the handbag Mist has given me. The sound of my heels digs into my head.
I know illegal. I’ve done illegal. The underground boxing matches are nowhere near legal, but drugs are an entirely different story.
Ma left me for this fucking poison.
She ended up alone and dead near a dumpster in the dark like a damn dog.
I can’t believe I’m helping in its distribution.
My hold tightens on the handbag. Liam would help. He’d stop these monsters from destroying the streets. I already sent him a message, and I’ll call as soon as I’m out of here.
A hand clasps around my wrist. My other hand clenches into a fist, but I miraculously stop myself from throwing a punch.
My head jerks up. Deep brown eyes peer at me with a dark gleam.
My breathing turns shallow in an instant.
Julian’s head is tilted to the side, watching with undivided attention. His strong, unyielding hold on my wrist causes my pulse to skyrocket.
Seriously, what the hell is wrong with these reactions around him? I breathe through my nose and try to release myself.
He tightens his clutch. It’s firm but doesn’t hurt.
“I have somewhere to go in case Mist didn’t tell you.” I want to slap the sarcasm out of my voice. Making him angry is definitely not in my best interest.
“You didn’t say no.” The cool ramble of his voice drifts around me, and it’s doing stupid shit to the temperature here. Add his skin against my inner wrist, and I’m nearing the ignition point.
“What do you mean?”
“You could’ve refused, but didn’t.”
I shrug. “I didn’t know I had the choice.”
“You know now.” Still keeping my wrist hostage, he approaches until I have to crane my head to look at him. Worse, his natural scent with the faintest hint of cedar is turning my head. “Tell me what you’re here for, and you won’t have to go.”
“How many times should I repeat myself? It’s to work.” I push away from him, and surprisingly, he lets me go.
Also surprisingly, I don’t freaking like the emptiness.
“Your choice, Firefly.” He turns around and leaves.
I stare at his strong back, outlined by the jacket. That man is a freaking enigma. I don’t even know what the heck to do with him.
I quicken my pace down the crowded street, trying to get through the late afternoon chaos. People rush to pubs and others to their families. Me, on the other hand? I’m walking straight towards a drug den.
My palms turn sweatier the more I approach the designated address. The bag on my arm feels like it weighs kilos even though it isn’t that heavy.
Two police officers walk by, chatting and laughing. First thought: freeze. Second thought: fucking run. Thankfully, I do neither. It takes all my will but I swallow and pretend I’m part of the happy go lucky crowd.
The thought that I’m distributing drugs, undercover or not, makes me sick to my stomach. I stroke my bracelet to remain calm.
I cast a discreet glance around, then retrieve my phone and dial Liam. I’ve called earlier and briefed him.
“I’m right behind you,” he says as soon as he answers. “Don’t look back, just keep on going. As long as you have your GPS on, I’ll be able to track you.”
“What will you do if I make the transaction?” I whisper. “Mist isn’t here. You can’t catch her.”
“No, but I can catch the receiver who might point at his provider.”
Sounds like a plan.
I hang up and continue watching my surroundings. It’s a bit safer since Liam has my back.
He and Zoe are the only people I would allow to do that.
My steps become more confident. This will go well. Liam will catch Mist’s contact and then her.
Wait.
Mist isn’t stupid to deal with someone who could betray her.
My steps falter and the bag slips over my shoulder.
Shit. It’s a trap!
She planned this to set me up. This delivery is the perfect way to know if I spy for the police.
The bitch.
I turn off my phone and dart between the throngs of people. Misleading Liam isn’t a bright idea and he would strangle me for going into this head-first, but Mist could have someone watching me. If they find out about Liam, I’m finished. Worse, he’ll also be finished.
Even though it eats at me to distribute the poison in the bag, I have to make the transaction. At least, I will gain their trust. Once they think I’m harmless, I’ll have more access to information. Then, maybe next time, I will lead Liam to the nest of drug dealers.
I sprint between people. The heels dig into my feet like needles. I round the corner, and the crowd thins to a few people. Probably because I’m approaching the slums. If Mist didn’t insist I go in a dress and heels, I would’ve worn something sporty. I can’t even punch or fight properly in this outfit. Maybe that was the redhead witch’s plan all along.
The place in which the transaction will take place is a pub that looks straight out of World War Two brochures. Scarlett would love this for her trivia.
A ‘Renovation’ sign hangs on the worn out wooden door, but there’s no sound of workers.
I touch my bracelet one more time and open the door. The squeak almost makes me jump.
My heartbeat pounds against my chest as I step inside.
I’m strong. I can do this.
Afternoon light filters through the windows’ blurry glass, highlighting the thick layers of dust on old wooden tables and chairs. Ripped vintage wallpaper covers the walls. The smell of humidity ripples in the air.
I stop near the empty bar. Familiar places always give me a sense of calm.
“Hello?” My voice is small.
Come on. I need to get it together. What can they do?
Besides kill me.
God. Misleading Liam was such a bad idea. If I survive this, he’ll be the one to skin me alive.
“Hello?” I call again, a little louder. I’m here already. I need to make this transaction at any cost.
“Hey, babe.” I flinch at the familiar voice. Then, when the face slips into view, my fists clench.
The man who cornered Hayley in the alley. Johnny, if I remember correctly.
He’s smirking and that makes that faded scar uglier. His hand is wrapped in a cast, the other inert by his side. The jacket he’s wearing makes him appear a lot more buff than he actually is. Lust-filled eyes weigh me up and down. He stops at my cleavage and makes a disgusting show of licking his upper lip.
Seems like the twat needs to be made impotent to understand his lesson.
“Heard you have something for me.” He motions at my bag. “I never thought ye would be comin’ over. I love ‘em feisty women. So much more fun to break, innit, babe?”
He advances. I widen my steps, hands in front of me, palms up. “Back off!” I shout in my loudest, throatiest tone. He’s injured so I can take him and punch that ugly smirk off his face, but something about his confidence grates at me.
I kicked him. He knows I can do it again, so it doesn’t make sense that he’d underestimate me.
“That really hurt the other time, babe.” He towers over me, his eyes turning a glassy shade of blue. “Because of you, I had three bones broken and I couldn’t piss without pain for two days.”
Serves him right.
But I didn’t brea
k his bones – no matter how much I would’ve liked to. What the hell is he talking about?
I need to be smart about this. This transaction means my official stepping stone into Le Salon. As much as I would like to jam my fist in Johnny’s face, this isn’t the time to do it.
Look at me being all diplomatic and shit. Zoe would be proud of me.
With a resigned sigh, I remove the bag from my shoulder and offer it to him. “There. Mist sends her regards.”
Once he takes it from my hand, I turn to the exit. The need to run the hell out of here pulses in my veins like hot fire.
My head bumps into a large chest. I step backwards, stance wide. Two buff men barge inside the deserted pub. Bald heads and massive physiques.
Oh. Shit.
What the hell was Mist thinking? Does she want me dead or something?
My back hits another chest. Johnny’s. He’s still smirking.
“Time to pay, babe.”
“Three to one?” I smile while my gaze strays to my side, looking for a possible exit. “Isn’t that too much?”
No exit. Johnny is blocking the back door, and the two men are obstructing the entrance.
Time to fight.
Energy pulses through me as I count my options. Not that I have many. Johnny is the easiest one. I definitely don’t want to go against his buff companions.
One of the men goes for my arm. I duck and use the spin to kick Johnny in the crotch. The tip of my heels squashes his penis until he’s wheezing in pain.
He falls to the ground, cursing, and face reddening.
I dart towards the back entrance. The buff blokes shouldn’t be fast, but these damn heels are slowing me down.
A large, calloused hand lands on my nape. I try to wiggle free, but he pushes me forward. My head bangs against the edge of the bar.
Shock explodes in my forehead. The space spins into a thousand stars. I close my eyes for the briefest second.
When I open them, Johnny’s reddening face hovers over me as someone yanks my arms behind my back.
“You will pay for this, you fucking bitch.”