The lie sounds hollow even to my own ears. I don’t have a lawyer. I can’t afford one. I can barely afford my rent.
Scarface knows it too. His smile widens.
“You’ve got real nerve, I’ll give you that.” He nods to the other two men. “But nerve doesn’t pay debts. And it definitely doesn’t protect you when you disrespect Mr. Kozlov. Consider this a lesson in gratitude.”
They move fast, faster than I expect. Hands grab my arms, slamming me back against the pillar. Pain explodes across my shoulders. I try to scream, but a hand clamps over my mouth, cutting off the sound.
“This is just a warning,” Scarface says, leaning in close enough that I can smell stale coffee on his breath. “Next time, you’ll wish you’d said yes. Next time, we won’t be so gentle.”
His fist drives into my stomach.
All the air rushes out of my lungs in a painful whoosh. I would collapse if the other men weren’t holding me up. Stars burst across my vision. The second fist gets me in the left eye, and my head spins as pain bursts in my face.
A voice calls out my name, terror in it.
Brooke.
“You have a few days to think about it,” Scarface says. “Then we come back. And trust me, you don’t want us to come back.” He looks at the men as Brooke screams for security. “Let’s go.”
They release me, and I crumple to the ground, gasping for air that won’t come. My stomach is on fire. My vision swims.
I hear their footsteps retreating, fading into the distance. But another pair is running toward me. My friend falls to her knees beside me, her voice trembling. “Are you okay? Who were they?”
I drag myself to a sitting position, still trying to catch my breath.
“Come on,” Brooke says, grabbing my arm. “Get up. Can you stand?”
“I’m fine,” I mutter, struggling to stand and failing.
“No you’re not. Lean on me.” She hauls me upright, and I let her because my legs aren’t entirely cooperating. Her arm goes around my waist, and we move toward the ER entrance slowly, my gait unsteady. “Will you just lean on me, damn it! Stop trying to be tough right now.”
I don’t argue. I don’t have the energy.
She settles me in the nearest exam room and is already pulling on gloves when Peter, one of the night security guards, appears in the doorway. He’s out of breath, radio in hand.
“I checked the whole lot,” he says. “Nothing. They must have bolted when I called it in. Did you get a look at them? Do you know who they were?”
I shake my head.
He lingers a moment, then nods and leaves.
The silence stretches for about three seconds before Brooke says flatly, “You’re lying.”
I close my eyes. “I guess that means we’ve known each other too long.”
“Miranda.” She tilts my chin up to get a better look at the damage around my eye, her touch gentle, her voice anything but. “Who were they? What did they want?”
I let out a gust of air. “Loan sharks. They were Kozlov’s people.”
Brooke pulls back to look at me, her eyes widening. “Wait, I thought you’d paid that off. You said you were handling it.”
“I am handling it. I just haven’t finished paying the interest yet.” I pause while she presses a cold pack to my eye and I hiss through my teeth. “I haven’t even touched the principal.” I let out a short, humorless laugh. “If my apartment wasn’t under rent control, I’d already be on the street. And now he sent themto offer an alternative. Which apparently involves me being significantly less clothed. When I said no, they decided to make their point another way.”
Brooke’s hands go still. “They cannot do that,” she bursts out fiercely. “That’s illegal. That’s assault, that’s coercion, that’s—”
“I know what it is.” My voice sounds weary even to my ears. “I just have to figure out what to do about it.”
I stare at the ceiling. I’ve been thinking about picking up private home nursing on the side. The pay is decent, sometimes better than decent. It would mean longer hours on top of already brutal shifts, but maybe I could get ahead of the payments even slightly.
