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19
Present Day
Pushing that memory aside, I follow Clancy into the centre of the dancefloor, trying not to let the remnants of that night ruin this one. Any and all thoughts of my brother, David, are unwelcome. I don’t want to think about him.
“Come on girl, we need to dance off some of that alcohol,” Clancy grins, weaving her way through the crowd.
We pass Tiffany, who gives us both her signature glare. I smile sweetly, then raise my middle finger. If she starts on me tonight I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold back. Anger writhes in my stomach. I’m angry at Tiffany for being such a bitch for no better reason than she has an ugly heart. I’m angry at my brother for still having a hold over me no matter how many miles away he is. I’m angry at Jeb for taking away my Breakers in the first place. I’m angry at myself, for letting him. But more than all of that, I’m angry at the Breakers for walking away, for believing what they were told the night our friendship was so cruelly severed. New Year’s Eve might’ve ended up a shit-show, but my seventeenth birthday tops it all.
“Tiffany is on form tonight,” Clancy announces, laughing as she gives her sister the middle finger too.
“Forget about her,” I say, dragging Clancy further into the crowd and feeling the need to work off all the memories and the stress of the past few days.
An hour later, my feet have decided to remind me that alcohol as a pain reliever only works if you keep actually drinking, so I tap Clancy on the shoulder and point to the ladies’ room. She nods, giving me a thumbs up and steps back into the hold of a cute blue-haired guy who I recognise from the academy. He gives me a smile and then returns his attention back to Clancy, who is now grinding her arse against his crotch toI Like Itby Cardi B. A wicked grin pulls up her lips as she bends over, the flat of his hand against the small of her back. I grin, she’s such a lush and I love her for it.
Making my way through the crowd, I follow the signs to the toilet then sigh, even in the most exclusive clubs there’s always a queue for the ladies room. Of course, like always, the male toilet has none.
“Fuck it,” I mutter, shoving open the door and striding to one of the cubicles.
“Hey, wrong place, beautiful,” a dude pissing into a urinal remarks as I stride past him.
“Don’t mind me,” I respond, flashing him a toothy grin as I open a cubicle and lock it behind me.
Quickly relieving myself, I flush the toilet then close the lid and sit. Pulling off my shoes, I wince. Even though the throbbing’s back, my feet are still wrapped up well, which is good. I make a mental note to make sure I clean them up the minute I get home. Pulling my shoes back on, I open the door and wash my hands, relieved to find that the bloke has left. Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out some painkillers and knock them back quickly, washing them down with a mouthful of water from the tap.
“A pretty girl like you really shouldn’t be using the men’s toilets. You never know who you might meet.” Straightening up, I turn around slowly. It’s the guy from earlier. My gaze flicks to the door and he laughs. “Don’t worry, love, I ain’t gonna touch you.”
“You wouldn’t get a chance,” I respond. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to fight anyone, but old habits die hard, and when you’ve been in enough scraps over the years like I have, then it’s not all that difficult to get back into that frame of mind. A quick kick to the balls followed up with a kidney punch usually does the trick even on a stacked guy like this.
“Feisty, I can see why he likes you.” He opens the door indicating for me to leave.
“Who likes me?” I ask, my hackles rising.
“Come with me and you’ll find out.”
“And if I refuse?”
The guy grins, his teeth white against his ebony skin. “It’s your funeral, or perhaps it’s your friend’s…? Be a shame for that pretty little redhead to end up at the bottom of the River Thames.”
He's smiling like he’s just made the funniest joke, but the threat is serious enough. I recognise a psychopath when I see one. My older brother was a good teacher.
“What’s your name?” I ask, as I follow him down the hallway and back into the main section of the club. The music is pumping, and I catch a glimpse of Clancy kissing the guy she was grinding against when I left her. The temperature of the club has ramped up with all the bodies and the dancing, and my skin breaks out in a sheen of sweat, though not just because of the heat.
“You know how this works. We’ve never met.Inside,” he demands, not bothering to hide the threatening gaze he aims at Clancy. The bouncer standing in front of the entrance to the booth unclips the gold rope. I slide inside, blinking my eyes as they adjust to the low lighting and come face to face with the leader of the Skins.
“Hello, pretty, it’s been a while,” Jeb smirks, his perfect teeth glinting in the candlelight. Around his neck are four layers of thick gold chains that are probably worth twenty thousand pounds each. He’s every part the gangster with his expensive clothes and his tattooed fingers wrapped in gold rings. I look up from his finger tapping against the side of the crystal tumbler glass he’s holding, and to his face. Beneath each eye are three teardrops tattooed into his dark Mediterranean skin. There’s only the slightest resemblance to Zayn, which I’m grateful for. I hate that they’re related.
“Jeb,” I respond tightly, my skin crawling the second his lascivious eyes glide over every inch of me, despite whoever is on their knees beneath the table sucking him off. The slurping noises make me want to gag.
“Looking good, sweetheart,” he exclaims appreciatively.
“What do you want, Jeb?” I ask, trying to keep my fear at bay and the alcohol in my stomach.
I’m treading on dangerous ground, I know that, but I can’t seem to help myself. This man and his stupid fucking crew of degenerates took my Breakers from me. Zayn always believed that Jeb would look out for him, that he’d never force him into becoming a member of the Skins, but I’d known right from the moment he told me they were related that it was only a matter of time. Blood or not, everyone is just a commodity to Jeb, only worth something if he can use them to his advantage. Just like me.
“Just checking in on my investments,” he says with a wry smile.
“Oh, yeah?”
