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“How much do you want?” he asks.
Fuck. I was hoping he wouldn’t ask that. I have no idea how much it’s worth. It could be $10 or $10,000 for all I know.
All I know for sure is that $5000 would be enough to keep me in my apartment and get back into nursing school. But what if it’s worth twice that? Or more? I don’t have enough experience with jewelry to know. I tried searching online for something that looked like my silver bracelet, but I couldn’t find anything, which means it’s either super rare, or a complete knockoff.
I take a deep breath and decide to try my luck.
“$10,000,” I blurt out, almost immediately regretting it. There’s no way it’s worth $10,000. Why would anyone, even a criminal, keep $10,000 in the backseat of his car?
Did you see that loft Ronan lived in? Looked like he could spare $10,000...
The big clerk pouts his lips and rocks his head side to side, thinking about the offer. Before he answers, he pulls out his phone and seems to write a text. It apparently doesn’t take long for him to get his answer, because I soon have mine.
The clerk nods. “But transfer only.”
I scrunch my brows. “What do you mean, you don’t pay cash?” This is supposed to be a pawn shop, and a shady one at that, I thought cash was supposed to be the only currency.
The clerk shakes his head. “For $10,000, only transfer,” he repeats.
My head swims as I consider the pros and cons of his proposition. The pro is obviously that I get $10,000. The con is that, if this bracelet was stolen, then there will be an official trail leading back to me. Can I risk getting caught up in some more shit?
For $10,000?
Fuck yes.
I take my debit card out of my purse. “You have yourself a deal.”
19
Ronan
I’m never going back.
The tropical sun beats down on my bare chest and a soft, warm breeze washes across my face. I adjust my sunglasses and march down the dirt road that runs along the oceanside beach.
I can hardly even imagine that I was ever able to live anywhere but here. The memory of the city I grew up in sends a shiver down my spine. The frigid gusts that occupy those streets in the winter are enough to kill a man, or worse. If I’d known that there were places on this planet where you didn’t have to fight the wind every time you stepped outside, then I would have left a long time ago... but then I would have never met her.
I’m never going back, I tell myself, knowing that it’s a lie. I have to go back. No place can ever be perfect until I’m with Nia again.
The past two months have been the hardest of my life in more ways than one, but the most difficult part of it all is trying not to reach out to her. As much as I crave to, I know that it would only put her in danger. There’s a whole city looking for me, and if they knew how much I cared for a curvy brown waitress from the westside, they’d know just how to get me back, and then I’d have no future at all, with or without the girl of my dreams.
The ramshackle beach house I’m looking for sways in the warm breeze. I don’t knock on the door, so much as I kick it down.
It’s not big enough inside for there to be anywhere to hide. The man I’ve come for is still in his underwear anyway. He jumps up from a ratty mattress and reaches for a gun on the ground beside his head. I catch it with a bullet before he can take it in his fingers.
“Fuck!” he yelps, as the nip of my firepower sends a shockwave up his arm. He stumbles backwards onto his mattress and falls flat on his ass. I point my gun right between his eyes.
“Do you have Miguel’s money?”
I ask, not angrily, but without much patience. This man means nothing to me, and I know Miguel will be just as happy to see him dead as he would be to see him pay up.
“... Just give me another week, please!” begs the pathetic excuse of a human.
I’m not impressed. “That’s what you said last week, Luiz. You’ve gotten paid for two shipments since then, not to mention you’ve gotten yourself into a little local trouble with some of the village girls. I’m willing to forgive you, if you pay double, and if you don’t, well,” I look behind the trembling coward to the peeling wall behind him. “Looks like this place could use a bit of a paint job. How’s red sound to you?”
“Please, No. Mr. Reid. I’ll pay. I’ll pay. Here.” I let Luiz crawl off his dusty mattress and I help him kick it aside. All I can do is chuckle with amusement as he un-hitches a trap door in the rickety wood flooring below. This idiot.
A duffle bag, stuffed with clearly-marked bills, suddenly appears. “I thought you needed another week, Luiz.” I play with him. He might be acting the lowly coward now, but word is that he has been treating a few local ladies a little harsher than I find acceptable.
