I take it from him, turning it over in my hand. Sequins still cling to the strap, but the heel is bent nearly sideways. “Yeah. I think I can fix it.”
He frowns like that’s the most impractical thing he’s heard all week. “Why don’t you just buy a new pair?”
“Funds are tight.” I shrug. “My stepmother finally managed to cut off my trust fund. At least for now.”
“Bribed a judge?”
That seems the most likely scenario. “I think so.”
“Do you want me to take care of it?”
My mouth dries instantly. I swallow once, twice, and take a long sip of water to cover the third. “In exchange for what?”
His gaze drops—slow, deliberate. I feel it track over the hoodie and down. “I think we could come up with something.”
Was that an offer or a threat? My body can’t tell thedifference. Electrical sparks zing through me. I need to get them under control.
Two of my best friends are tangled up with the most dangerous men alive. I don’t need to collect a third. Especially not when I’m still dating Wesley. I have to keep remembering that. The fact that I have to remind myself isn’t a great sign.
“What did you get from Aquarius’s servers tonight?” Justice asks.
“Nothing,” I say honestly. “Yet. I’m in, but I haven’t found what I want.”
He glances at the five-top near the far wall. “What do you want?”
“I’m not going to tell you that.”
“You are, sweetheart.”
The waitress sets the coffee down between us and lingers for a moment, finally turning away when he doesn’t acknowledge her.
He takes a long sip, then pulls a fifty from his pocket and slides it under the cup. “All right, Ella,” he says, voice low and even. “Let’s go.”
“I’m not going with you.” I keep my tone flat, not letting him see the way my pulse kicks. Where is my backup? I pressed the code in minutes ago.
He grins, slow and lazy, then glances around the diner. “You think anyone’s going to stop me? You can walk or you can be carried. Totally up to you, princess.”
“Why?”
“I’m locking you down.” His voice is calm. Almost polite. Like this is standard procedure. He even sounds a little sorry about it, which somehow makes it worse. He’s absolutely confident.
My head snaps up. “No, you’re not. You’re not locking me anywhere.”
“You going to fight me now?” He perks up slightly, like he’d enjoy it.
The door opens, and two police officers walk in—young, fresh-faced, and too clean-cut for this neighborhood. Finally. Geez.
Justice doesn’t flinch, but his gaze flicks toward them. Measuring.
I sigh and look toward the officers. They’re not seasoned, not like the ones who left when the city started to rot from the inside. But they wear the badge. The first walks over to a waitress and whispers something.
She looks around and shrugs as if there’s no problem and she has no clue who called them.
I did. Well, I sent a coded message that there was a problem in the diner. They’d taken longer to arrive than I’d expected. “Excuse me, officer,” I call out, voice pitched just right, not with fear, but with concern.
The guy next to the waitress looks up and heads toward me. He can’t be more than twenty-two and has dark hair and blue eyes. He’s clean-cut in a textbook way. “Did you send out a distress call, ma’am?”
I don’t look at Justice, but anger swells across the table.
