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“That’s how I know he’s going to do what he’s told,” Zane goes on, tossing the knife from hand to hand again. “I’ve been looking for an angle for a long time. But his parents live abroad. He doesn’t have any close friends, girlfriends, or even pets. But you… you’re like a gift, a gift that’s going to be my meal ticket.”
“What are you going to do with the money?” I ask.
It’s better to keep him talking, far better than what he could be doing.
“Like I’d tell you that.” He laughs. “You’ll just go to the police. If you live long enough, that is.”
“You must have a plan. I’d go to Barbados.”
I’m blabbing, but it’s my only option.
“I won’t be staying in this hellhole of a city, that’s for sure. Ryker’s got a lot of money in that safe of his. But if he brings me some bullshit payment, I might not go anywhere ever again.”
“What does that mean?” I whisper, voice trembling now.
He stares hard at me, a manic glint in his eyes. “It means all three of us might die in this shitty little basement.”
I try to push down the pit of horror that takes hold of my belly.
But I fail. When Zane’s phone starts to ring, I almost let out a scream.
He shoots me a sharp look and I bite down, stifling it.
“Looks like lover boy has my cash,” Zane says, looking down at his phone. He swipes it, answering. “Ryker, do you have it? Yeah, good. No, no, shut the fuck up. Quiet.”
He speaks as though he’s giving instructions to a pet, and I can just imagine how angry Ryker must be.
“I’ll text you the address. Use the back door to the basement. And Ryker, if I think you’re playing me, or if you even think about bringing the cops, I will slit this bitch’s throat. Got it.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ryker
I shoulder the duffle bag as I walk toward the basement doors, so much anger coursing through me I feel like I’m going to snap. I can’t stop thinking about all the messed-up things that bastard could be doing to my angel, my perfect Rosie, and I know that this could end in blood.
If he’s hurt her, if he’s touched even a single hair on her hair, I’m going to feed him his goddamn teeth.
The bag is heavy, the strap cutting into my shoulder, about three hundred thousand in cash with several gold bars. I’ve always kept a reserve, even back before I knew Zane was a rat. It was something my old man instilled in me when I was a kid, and the lesson stuck, especially when I became financially well off.
I’m not sure whether to be thankful or angry now, as I lean down and hammer my fist against the metal basement door.
The sun hasn’t even reached its midday peak yet everywhere it’s gloomy, dark, fitting the mood.
Except that’s not right.
Because if it was fitting my mood the whole damn city would be on fire, burning the same way the fury scorches and hisses inside me.
“Hello?” Zane calls from the other side.
He’s using that ironic tone, the same one he used to aim at me when we were friends and he was making a joke. The memory causes bile to surge up my throat and my fists clench.
“Let me in,” I snap.
“It’s not as simple as that,” he says.
I glance up and down the alleyway, empty apart from some discarded trash and a graffiti-drawing of a person on the wall. The prick chose this spot well, probably researched it beforehand, knowing nobody would venture down this way.
“I’ve got your money, Zane. Let me the fuck in.”
“How do I know you’re not going to try anything?”
You don’t, motherfucker. And maybe I will. Maybe I’ll pounce on you the second this door opens and snap your worthless neck.
“I’m not going to try shit,” I tell him. “All I want is to keep Rosie safe.”
“Oh, she’s safe… for now. But I know you, Ryker. Maybe you wish I didn’t, but I do. You sound angrier than I’ve ever heard you. Even if you’re trying to hide it. So I don’t think I can let you in. I can’t risk it. Unless you agree to do something for me.”
“Don’t let me in then,” I growl. “Just send Rosie out and I’ll leave your cash right here.”
“Yeah, of course, you will,” he says sarcastically. “No, I’m going to give you some handcuffs. Put them on behind your back, and then I’ll let you see your little whore. Okay.”
“Don’t call her that again,” I warn him, unable to hide the anger in my voice.
He laughs in an unhinged way, a cackle beneath his rough voice that tells me he’s definitely on something. My guess would be cocaine, but with this junkie, it could be anything.
