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“What does the Iron Elite want with me?”
Eli quirks an eyebrow and shrugs. “Perhaps we just like a good fight.”
He rises and starts to walk away before he pauses, turning back to me.
“I’d be more polite, when you meet him,” he says, leaning forward, voice full of warning I’d like to stuff down his fucking throat. “You remember what happens when you don’t do what you’re told.” His eyes flick to my face, and I feel the rage burn through my blood.
The sounds rush back as he opens the door, neither him nor his lackey even so much as glancing back.
My teeth clench together, and it isn’t until the door closes that my eyes drift down to the card left behind. Picking it up, I rub a hand down my face, pausing as my hands touch the edge of the burns that cover my hairline and cheek.
I wonder if this is because of the shit I helped Killian with a few weeks back. Though, I don’t expect I’d see the bullet if they thought I had anything to do with that shit. I don’t regret it, at least not in principle.
His girl was in trouble, he told me. Needed information on an old broad. She worked for them, but he assured me he wouldn’t fuck with her. Seemed straight enough.
I should have asked Kill for all the details. The names he wanted info on were all centred around these fuckers, but I was so fucking careful. But maybe he wasn’t.
The Iron Elite have their fingers in a lot of pots, and I have a bad feeling Kill managed to stir one.
If it is that, though, then why wait so long? Did it take them long to figure it out?
I shake my head. That makes no fucking sense. If they thought I was interfering with their shit, I’d be dead; not given three days to prepare.
That leaves one alternative, and I’ve tried really fucking hard to avoid that.
So, why the fuck, after all this time being allowed to run my shit, is the fucking Iron Elite knocking onmydoor?
“Fuck!” I slam my hands down on the desk, making everything on it rattle. Reaching forward, I grab another cigarette and quickly light it before looking at the card once more.
One week.
I don’t know who runs the coast, but everything I know of the Iron Elite tells me this visit isn’t a social call or just to see a good fight. They’ve tried to recruit me before and I’ve stayed away, running my own things.
I have a bad fucking feeling this time, I’ll have to make a choice, and going against the Iron Elite only has one outcome.
I take another drag before I pull out my phone, shooting off a quick message.
It’s going to be a long fucking week.
Kinsey
American Girl
I chewthe ends of my hair as I flip through my phone and the newest audition listings. My frown deepens as I scroll, and sigh, picking up my coffee and taking a sip. I grimace at the coldness, the shitty quality of the instant crap, the only thing I could afford.At least it's caffeine, I remind myself as I toss back the rest.
Confident there are no new online ads listed, I put my cup in the sink and make my way to the bedroom to grab my stuff for the day. Even jobless, I don’t want to hang around this crappy apartment all day. It’s a lot harder to ignore the creepy crawlies, the smell of old mould and rust, and the overall derelict state of the place when I spend time here.
As I grab my purse, my eyes land on the pile of bills on my bedside table, but I ignore them. Not like I have money to pay any of them.
Giving myself one last look in the mirror, I run a hand through my faded silver locks and manage a small smile. I may be too broke to even afford this crappy place, but at least I don’t look like I’m about to be a homeless person. At this point, my looks are one of the few things that may save me from being on the street in only a few short weeks.
Satisfied I look alright, I grab the bag from my fridge before I head out and make my way onto the busy morning streets. I lift my face to the sky and inhale deeply, savouring the sweet smells of spring and last night's rain. The slight chill in the air makes me feel alert, but also reminds me of my first stop. I turn left and then right down the small alley until I stop at the overturned dumpster, cardboard lined across the front, shielding the inside from view.
“Knock, knock,” I say in a singsong voice, though I don’t move toward it. I made the mistake of waking Jay up by shaking him the first time I saw him and wound up with a black eye as a result. He felt awful and didn’t mean to, of course, but I learned my lesson well enough. From then on, we became quick friends.
“Whosit?” A voice grumbles from inside and the corner of my mouth turns up.
“It’s Kinsey. I brought you breakfast, so get your butt out here,” I reply. A moment later, a head pops out. Squinting against the light he looks up at me and his face breaks out into a grin. The lines of grime on his face deepen with the expression, making him look even older than his fifty years, but it’s so sincere I can’t help but smile.
