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“I’ll find out if she’s working for anyone and what she knows. After that, I’ll decide if she'll be useful as a whore. From what I’ve seen, she’s pretty. And young enough.”
“Is she an addict?”
“If she knew what she was stealing, it’s likely.”
Another pause. “All right. I’m headed to bed. Let me know what you decide.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I expect I’ll be waking up to good news?”
“Of course, sir.”
“Good. Talk to you in the morning.”
The line goes dead, and I pull the phone from my ear. I toss it on the table and grab my glass. The liquor burns my throat on the way down, but I need it. It’s been a long fucking day.
An hour and two more glasses of scotch goes by before I head upstairs to my bedroom and take a shower. I throw on a pair of sweats and am bounding down my staircase to grab my phone off the table when someone knocks on my door.
I walk to the door and fling it open, expecting to see one of my men from the main house on the compound, here to give me more bad news. Instead, I’m met with Victor’s wide grin and a brown-haired girl about a foot shorter than me. She looks terrified, with her hands behind her back and her shoulders shaking.
She looks up and meets my eyes. Her green irises don’t hold the same wickedness as they did in her photo.
“Polly, I presume?”
She drops her gaze to her feet, and Victor is the one who answers. “She was hiding in an alley off Twenty-second Street.”
“Was she as difficult to catch as I’ve been told?”
Victor laughs. “Not even close.”
I glance at his smug expression before going back to the girl. Her hair falls to her shoulders in waves, and she seems to be using it as a shield. It doesn’t hide her face as much as I’m sure she wishes. Freckles dot her nose, and I can’t help but notice how her long lashes aren’t wet with tears.
“Good work,” I say to him, still staring at her. “Bring her in.”
I step to the side, and Victor grabs the girl’s arm and hauls her past me. She flinches but doesn’t fight. She looks far from the escape artist my men described her as.
“Where do you want her?” Victor asks.
“I’ve got it. Go wait outside. This won’t take long.”
Victor’s grin falters. “You sure? I can help—”
“I said I’ve got it.”
He doesn’t move, and I raise a brow, pinning him with my stare. The girl tenses, and I move my eyes to Victor’s grip. Polly’s skin around his fingertips is white.
“Sure thing,” Victor finally says, releasing the girl. She shrinks away from him as soon as he lets go. “Let me know if you need me.”
He gives her one last look before walking out the door and shutting it behind him. Once he’s gone, I turn to Polly.
“So,” I say, my tone light. “I’ve heard you’re quite the runner.”
“I swear to God, I didn’t take anything. I don’t know what was in that fanny pack, and I don’t want to know. I’ll walk away and never—”
“You’re getting ahead of yourself, Polly.”
“That’s what you want to know, isn’t it?” For a moment, I’m struck at how strong her voice is. She lifts her chin and searches my face. “Otherwise, you would’ve just had that freak kill me. I don’t know anything, and I will neverevertell.”
