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She has to pause again to take a shuddering breath. I’m shaking now too. Can’t help it.
“He kept telling me how I was only there because he was doing a favor for a friend, training me so the guy could sell me.” Simone continues, “But how he wanted to be training you for himself. How he dreamed about it. How he spent a year and a half in jail just fantasizing about what he’d do to you when he gets out. And how he’d find you as soon as he’s done with me.”
The words are hitting me like hard, jagged rocks. I’m swaying, my heart racing, my whole body shaking in fear. Mabel hugs me tight.
“Thank God he’s dead!” I say, and that realization clears the black terror from my mind.
Kevin’s dead. He’ll never touch me again. Never frighten me again. Never had the chance to make his horrible plan for me a reality.
“Fuck his cage and fuck his sick plans!” I add.
“Yeah, fuck him!” Simone says her voice steadier than it was.
“So, what will you do now?” Chloe, Fury’s ol’ lady, asks. “Go back home?”
Simone shrugs. “I am home. I mean . . . LA is my home. I was born and raised here. But this place, all of you, you’ve also made me feel at home right here.”
“But your family must be going crazy not knowing where you are,” Chloe says.
Simone scoffs, but there’s a deep sadness in her eyes. “My family doesn’t give a shit about me. I doubt they even reported me missing, and if they did, they only did it because they thought they had to. They already think I’m the black sheep of the family. If they ever find out what happened to me, they’ll be even more sure of that. I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to tell them what happened to me.”
“You can stay right here,” Killer says in his deep, booming voice. “For as long as you want. We’ll keep you safe.”
She gives him a very grateful smile as all the other ol’ ladies echo his offer.
“I just want to start over, you know? Start a new life,” Simone says. “I don’t want any of the old. And I don’t want to be a burden on anyone.”
They all assure her she’d be no burden here, but I can see it in her eyes that she doesn’t believe them.
“Hey, my friend Stacey and I are doing that too. We’re starting a new life in LA as we speak,” I say and smile at her. “If you want, you can share an apartment with us. Plus, Stacey is a cosmetology specialist too. You guys would have so much to talk about.”
Simone looks at me gratefully. “Are you sure?”
I nod. “Completely. In fact, I’m meeting Stacey soon to look at some apartments. Killer’s set it up with his realtor.”
Killer shakes his head. “She’s not my realtor. She’s just the woman we hired to find some properties for us.”
The way he needed to make absolutely sure Simone didn’t get the wrong idea about him and the realtor woman makes me sure he’s got it bad for Simone. After what she’d been through, she probably won’t trust a guy any time soon. But I get the feeling Killer is gonna try really hard to earn her trust. I hope so, anyway.
He drinks the rest of his beer and sets the bottle down. “Come on, we better go look at those apartments now. Traffic’s a bitch this time of day.”
“I kind of wanted to wait for Brennon,” I say, but he shakes his head.
“He’s gonna be busy for a couple of more hours,” he says. “He’ll meet us there later.”
Simone looks like she’s ready to get out of the clubhouse, which she hasn’t left since they brought her here, and I’m eager to finally secure a place to live. A place I can call home. My stuff is taking up half of Brennon’s room upstairs for one thing, and for another, I want to start putting down roots in this city.
After half an hour in the car, during which we only covered about five miles because of the terrible gridlock, we’re standing on a wide street in front of a run-down-looking four-story building. Whole chunks of its dirty pink facade have long since peeled off, revealing the concrete beneath. And the sidewalk around it is littered with beer cans, plastic bags, and all kinds of other garbage. I really do not want to call this my home. Ever.
“Finally,” Stacey says as she rushes to me. Her cheeks are red the way they only get when she’s very angry. “The realtor is saying this place is the only thing she has for us to look at. I hate it. It’s so far from everywhere and . . . and . . . I just don’t want to live here.”
The realtor, a tall brunette in a skin-tight pencil skirt and matching jacket, isn’t listening to her. She’s smiling so wide I can see every one of her neon white teeth as she looks at Killer.
“This isn’t a good neighborhood,” he’s telling Simone. “I don’t think you should be looking for a place here.”
“Oh, but it’s very affordable, Killian,” the realtor insists, addressing him by his real name. “And it’s an up-and-coming neighborhood. They’ll be happy here.”
“What about the place I showed you the other day?” I ask, taking out my phone on which I have the photo of the awesome historical building Brennon and I were checking out downtown the other day.
