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“There’s this new guy,” he finally says, shuffling his feet, uncomfortable as hell. “Mikey. Sixteen or seventeen. Pretty face, though no comparison to you, J.”
I huff. Jason has hit on me a couple of times. I’m used to men hitting on me, as much as chicks, but I hope Jason has taken the hint. I just don’t swing that way.
In fact, I managed, against all odds, to only service women. Jason helped me with that, and I owe him big time, taking on the guys who’d hit on me and putting out the word about me to lady friends.
“Go on,” I say when it becomes clear he’d rather not. “What happened?”
He lets out a frustrated sigh, checks the street again. “He won’t say, but we found him beaten up pretty badly. Not far from here, in fact.”
A chill runs up my spine despite the warm day. “You think it’s the same guy? Simon?”
Pimp and leader of a MC gang, he arrived to take this city under his “protection.” Simon Gomez.
“Could well be. Kid mumbled something about turf wars and ran. Never heard where he ended up.”
I swallow sourness. “Has Simon ever threatened you?”
Just his name makes me feel sick.
“Kaia keeps tabs on him.” The local pimp. “But she’s getting sicker by the day. If she passes on, I don’t know what will happen.”
“Yeah.” I jam my hands into my pockets. “Me neither.”
“You could press charges, J.”
He’s told me this before. Jason is the one who found me and patched me up. He found a doctor to sew my arm up for free—or if he paid in kind, he never told me.
“I can’t. He’ll find out I ratted him out. Too risky. Besides, it’s been years and it’s not like I had any witnesses.”
“If nobody accuses him, he’ll never fucking stop. You’re safe in your castle in the clouds, J, but what about us?”
Holy shit.
“Take care of yourself,” I tell Jason and turn to go, the jab hurting like a punch to the gut. No idea what I expected to find, why I thought coming here might calm my frazzled nerves. With guilt added to the mix, I’m worse off than before.
With my stomach lodged under my ribs like a damn stone, I make my way back to my new life, knowing full well that my old one will haunt me forever.
After a night spent tossing and turning, caught in nightmares and twisted in my sheets, I finally catch some shuteye with the sunrise, a pillow jammed over my head to keep out the light. I slip in and out of dreams, or memories, dark places with the stench of piss and vomit, yelling ringing in my ears as I cower, small and powerless, trying to hide.
But the hands always find me and drag me, kicking and screaming, back into the fear and pain.
The knock-knock seems to come out of the blue. It comes again, smashing into my sleep, shattering the dreams.
Thank God.
I open bleary eyes and squint as the door cracks open. A shaggy dark head pops inside.
Alex, I think, my brain hurting as it tries to come awake. My roommate. Important to clarify this, even as my body still shakes with remembered fear.
“What?” I croak, hugging my pillow, wincing at the sunrays spearing through the window and straight through my head.
“Someone here for you. A girl. Says you told her to come this morning.”
A girl? Who…?
Amber.
Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Throwing off the sheet, I shoot to my feet and stagger sideways. My head hurts as if I’ve been drinking.
