He rattles off his order, but he calls out to me before I get to the door. “Don’t go alone,” he warns, clearly remembering my trepidation this morning. “Take Biff with you, or ever better, just send her.”
I agree and head out with the intention of finding Biff to do as I’m told, but reception is empty, as is the kitchen.
Not wanting to disturb her, whether she’s in with Zach or upstairs, I leave it be and push through the front door.
I only need to go up the street a bit. It’ll be fine. I’ll be back in a few minutes.
It’s getting late. The sun is beginning to set, casting the street in orange shadows.
Sucking in a deep breath, I make my way down the street to get the burger Spike requested.
With both our orders in hand, I make my way back toward the studio. The sun has dipped below the buildings, and what was a relaxing soft hue on the walk here has now turned into a slightly eerie darkness, making me wish that I had done as Spike suggested and got Biff to come with me.
Tugging my jacket tighter around myself, I set off on the short walk. My legs move as fast as I can make them go as the dread I’ve been feeling for the past few days quadruples in my belly.
I tell myself over and over that I’m just being paranoid as I hurry back.
I’m almost there. I can see the neon Rebel Ink sign in the distance when I sense someone behind me.
My foot shoots forward, ready to run, but I don’t get the chance.
A large hand covers my mouth as an arm wraps around my middle, hauling me back into a hard body. The bag in my hand falls to the floor as all the panic, the fear, the anxiety I’ve been feeling recently slams into me.
I try screaming in the hope of alerting someone, but unlike my earlier journey, there’s no one on the street to watch this play out.
I’m dragged into the shadows of an alley as I kick, bite, and attempt to scream.
“Fucking bitch,” the guy grunts when I manage to connect my boot with his crotch.
My heart pounds in my chest as my head spins, desperately trying to figure a way out of this.
I hiss in pain when I’m pushed up against the wall, the rough bricks scratching at my skin as his hard body presses into my back.
“What the fuck do you want?” I bark the second he releases my mouth.
“You have no idea who I am, do you?” His fingers wrap around my hair and my head is violently pulled back so I have no choice but to look at him.
I narrow my eyes, studying him as he waits for me to make whatever connection I’m meant to.
His eyes are somewhat familiar, but I have no idea where from.
“Am I meant to?”
“You fucking should. You’ve got my money.”
It takes a few seconds longer than it probably should, but realisation dawns eventually that he’s obviously got some connection to Jet.
Fuck, fuck. Fuck.
“I don’t have any money.” My head is ripped back once again, and an excruciating pain shoots down my neck and back at the vicious move.
“Where is it?”
“I don’t have it.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me,” he bellows, forcefully spinning me around and slamming my back up against the wall.
My head collides with the bricks, and for a few seconds I see stars.
I should be screaming, trying to alert someone, but with his cold, evil eyes staring down into mine, I’m frozen.
“Who are you?”
Instead of responding, he lifts his arm, backhanding me across the cheek.
“Motherfucker,” I mutter, feeling my healing lip split back open.
“Where’s the fucking money?”
“I don’t have any fucking money. Do I look like I have the odd fifty G hanging around?” I spit.
“You turned up with a bag. Where did it go?”
“Read my fucking lips, arsehole.” His hand grips me around the throat and he squeezes enough to scare me but not to cut off my air supply. Not yet, anyway. “I. Don’t. Know.”
His grip tightens as his lips purse in anger.
“This is going to go two ways,” he warns. “Either you tell me where that money is, or you’re not leaving this alleyway breathing.”
His eyes hold mine, but if he’s hoping to see fear in them, he’ll be bitterly disappointed. I’ve dealt with arseholes like him my entire life. He can threaten to kill me all he likes—hell, he can do it if it’s going to make him feel better about himself—but I won’t give him any details that might lead him to Zach, which is where I assume the money is.
“No wonder Jet had such fun with you,” he says, a smile full of evil intentions appearing on his lips. “Maybe I should get in on the action before putting you out of your misery.”
His arm lifts once more and I brace for the hit that sends me crashing to the ground. My head ricochets off the concrete, a piercing pain spearing down my neck at the same time my shoulder begins to burn.
Seconds before he drops down to me, I have the briefest opening to reach down for my ankle with the arm I didn’t land on.
I breathe a sigh of relief when my fingers wrap around the cool metal handle of my knife. I knew there was a reason I slid it in here before leaving the flat earlier. If I learned one thing from my mother, then it’s to always trust my gut, and my gut has been screaming at me for days that something’s not right. I’m so fucking glad I listened.
He practically dives for me, wanting to take advantage of me being in a heap on the ground, but the second he’s in reaching distance, I flip my knife and drive it into his
