Sandy has re-entered the kitchen and cries up at me as she circles around my ankles.
“Yeah, I’m working on it.” Kneeling down, I open the bottom cupboard and grin at the bag of cat food. Sandy leaps up on my knee, and I swipe her off.
“Here we go.” I barely get the food into the bowl before Sandy’s eating them. Filling up her water dish, I call my mother again before leaving the kitchen.
“Mom.” She must be passed out somewhere. The sitting room door is closed, and I push it open. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, but once they do, I wish I could step out of the room—the air freezes in my lungs and the ground under me shifts. A man stands over my bleeding brother. My brother’s gray t-shirt—that’s nearly threadbare—is coated in flecks of his blood. His jeans hang off his thin frame. My gaze bounces around the scarcely furnished sitting room before landing on my mother. The air re-enters my system, and I try to control my racing heart. My mother is in a heap in the corner. Her wild eyes won’t settle on anything. Mascara runs down her worn-out face. I’m tempted to step closer to her, but a shove to my back sends a shiver up my spine. The gun is nudged into my back again until I’m standing in the center of the room.
“What have we got here?”
I spin around at the voice. It’s deep and holds an edge, like a sharp knife that nicks the skin. It makes me uncomfortable and cautious. Even without the gun, this man is dangerous. His bald head seems to absorb the light. Heavy brows curtain his blue eyes that assess me. He takes a step closer. The leather coat creaks as he reaches out a tattooed hand and lifts my blond plait before dropping it back down onto my bare shoulder. I want to yank my top up, but it’s meant to hang off the shoulder, so I tighten my hands into fists.
“You’re a pretty little thing.” His grin is razor-sharp, and alarm bells start to ring as I take a step back.
“What do you want?” My voice sounds stronger than I actually feel.
“Leave her alone.” Declan moans from the floor, and I’m relieved he’s alive. His pale skin had me wonder if today was the day that I would find my brother dead. Now that I see he isn’t dead, I wonder what mess he has gotten us into. I try to convey my question toward him with a stare that he meets briefly. His eyes slam closed as the man above him drives his black military-style boot into my brother’s stomach. I’m moving, but a hand pulls on my arm and drags me back.
“Stay where you are, bitch.”
“Just tell us what you want.” I can’t look away from Declan as he gasps for air. The man above him grins down with enjoyment. His gaze swings to me, and he spits on my brother like he’s a dog.
“Declan here owes us twelve grand.”
The earth beneath my feet shifts, and I need to sit down, but I don’t move. I don’t look at my brother any longer as he whimpers. I want to glance at my mother, who hasn’t said a word, but she’s alert and watching. I can hear her useless breaths from the corner of the room.
“And if he doesn’t pay?” I ask the dreaded question.
Blue eyes roam across my chest, and he takes a step closer to me, his gaze fixes on my exposed shoulder. “I was going to send your mother to one of our brothels until the debt is cleared. But now that you are here, I think you would be a very good money-spinner.” His fingers reach out and grip my chin, and I’m ready to step away from him, but I hold still, and his eyes gleam with approval that I don’t want.
“I could take a test drive before we agree to anything,” the guy standing over my brother sneers.
“Leave my sister alone, bro. I’ll get your money.” Declan tries to stand, but a large boot is pressed against his chest and pushes him back down. He holds out his thin arms, and I hate how faded he looks. He’s a copy of what my brother once was.
“Your sister?” I take a step away from baldy as he speaks, and his fingers fall from my face. I didn’t expect him to let me go so easily.
“This is the deal I’m going to make.” He places the gun in the band of his trousers, and it’s like the room sighs in relief. But I’m not fooled. This man would pull it out in a second. I’m keeping an eye on his friend, who I don’t doubt is packing a gun as well.
“You have twenty-four hours to get me my money. If it’s not here when I return, I’m taking you.” His eyes bore into mine, and he takes a step towards me. This time when his fingers tighten on my arm, there is nothing gentle about it. I’m slammed against his chest as his other hand roughly dips into my pants. Terror grips me by the throat before I snap out of it, and I’m struggling. I’m trying to push him away as a deep-rooted fear starts to freeze me from the tips of my toes and travels quickly up my body. I don’t want to
