AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Left alone, I shove my takings into my bag at my feet, fixing my eyes on the pair of sky-high, blood-red stilettos that stop before me, turning in my direction.
Running my eyes up smooth, tanned legs, I smirk at the overly made-up, gorgeous blonde woman. She wouldn’t look out of place on a catwalk. But she’s not on a catwalk right now.
“Let’s take care of you, Paddy.” She flashes a sultry smile at me. “I’m Maggie.”
Why do they always insist on an introduction? It’s not like I’m going to remember it anyway or like I’m going to see them again. Delic makes sure I get a different girl every week.
“I don’t give a fuck what your name is,” I growl, my head tipping back as she kneels between my legs.
Chapter One
LAUREN
The scrap of paper lies in the middle of the scrubbed diner table, bright against the dark wood. I know it’s just a piece of paper with torn edges, but it’s totally looking at me with contempt. Telling me to stop being such a baby and pull up my big girl panties.
“More coffee?” The tired-looking waitress appears beside me, clutching the metal pot. I nod, keeping my eyes glued to the name scribbled on the paper, my heart clenching. It’s Josh's writing. This piece of paper is the last thing I have with his writing. How pathetically sad is that?
The name leaps out at me, dark on the smudged, otherwise white paper. Paddy Flynn. I’m supposed to go and find him. That’s what Josh told me to do, and I always do what Josh tells me to do. So why am I on my fourth coffee in a twenty-four-hour diner in the middle of the night?
Two reasons. First, I’m waiting for Perry to come through with an address. The second… I still don’t know if I will go where Perry tells me.
Once my mug is topped up, the waitress shuffles away, and I flick my eyes after her guiltily. I don’t have enough for a good tip. She probably doesn’t make the best tips at this hour. I think she knows I’m not going to tip big. She refills my coffee and glares at me every hour. Otherwise, she ignores me.
My phone buzzes from inside the duffel bag on the booth seat next to me, and I fish it out. Perry. I pull up our conversation, my eyes skating over the earlier texts.
LAUREN: Is Paddy Flynn going to be at the riverfront fight tonight?
PERRY: Yes. He fights every Tuesday and Thursday night. Why?
LAUREN: Where’s the fight?
PERRY: Why? Why are you asking after Flynn?
LAUREN: I just am. For Josh.
PERRY: Josh would be telling you to stay the fuck away from Flynn. Do you know who he is?
LAUREN: He’s with the Irish.
PERRY: Yeah, he is. So you should fucking stay away, Low.
LAUREN: If you don’t send through the address, I’ll go to Oracle and sit there until Paddy Flynn comes along.
LAUREN: Are you going to give me the address or not?
The latest text from Perry is an address. The illegal underground fight ring is in a warehouse on the waterfront. Not the fancy riverfront either.
Leaving the phone on the table, Perry’s latest text with the address staring at me, also with contempt, as I nurse my coffee, drawing it out.
My eyes flicker over the earlier messages. Perry’s right. It’s not particularly smart to get involved with the Irish. But I don’t know if I have a choice. Josh made it seem like I didn’t have a choice, and Josh would never tell me to do something dangerous. Ever.
There’s nothing for it. I have to find Paddy Flynn. For Josh. My decision made, I blow out a breath, drain my bitter-tasting coffee and drop my last ten dollars on the table, collecting my bag and hustling out of there.
It’s a half-hour walk, the night air holding a tinge of cold. It’s only the start of fall, but the waterfront's breeze is blustery this late at night. Drawing my coat around me, I hug my duffel bag to my chest, hurrying toward the warehouse address from Perry. This is not the safest area, and there are no streetlights.
Eventually, I make it to the warehouse with my teeth aching from clenching them in fear. There is a floodlight out the front, some not-so-great looking people milling around, and a large, scary bouncer lounging against the side of the warehouse, next to the door.
He straightens when I walk up to him, throwing back my shoulders and lifting my chin. I need to look like I belong here.
