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“You called,” he says as I pull my helmet off, my eyes meeting his behind a pair of dark-shaded sunglasses. A good friend for a long time, there’s no one I’d rather have at my back than Falcon Thornwood, heir to the Moorcroft estate that lays at the west end of the city.
“I did,” I reply, tossing the helmet into the bike’s compartment and shutting it closed. My bike is a gorgeous, custom machine, all sharp edges and sleek metal. Falcon eyes it up with an envious glance before smiling at me.
“So you found it?”
“In a manner of speaking,” I reply quickly, glancing over at the city. It’s beautiful from here, even better than in my building right in the middle of the core. From here, at least, I can pretendI’m not tied to this place, like I could leave if I really wanted. Falc knows that’s why I always ask to meet on the outskirts, and he humors me.
“I see.” He taps a finger against his chin, his other hand sliding into the pocket of his designer slacks. “But not quite.”
“I found it,” I say, turning toward him. “But there’s a catch.” He cocks an eyebrow, lifting his sunglasses slowly. “There’s a girl.”
His shoulders hitch as he tries to hold back laughter. “Of course. What else is new?”
“She has the key,” I reply, my jaw tightening. This is serious. “Her name is Katy. She has no idea, and her family is in the dark too. They nearly sold her out--“ That thought makes me angry. I almost lost the fuckin’ key because a couple of low-lives thought it was worth only a few thousand dollars.
“That’s a shame,” Falcon murmurs, but his voice is a little too neutral.
“I need your help,” I tell him. “I need to make her feel safe. Make her trust me.” He sighs and stretches his arms up above his head, his suit jacket pulling open as he does so.
“You could just be honest with her,” he points out, voice dry as old papers. I stop myself from rolling my eyes. Falcon never had to fight for what he has. It was handed to him via an unfortunate accident that wiped out his family. He’s convinced it’s a curse, but as far as I can tell, it was just normal run of the mill bad luck. As it is, since inheriting more wealth and power than he could ever hope to use in his lifetime, he doesn’t know or understand entirely my struggle.
What it’s like to have power, to have built something beautiful, and have it ripped from your hands. To have your own kin betray you and steal it all for themselves.
“I need the key,” I remind him. “She’s the only way I can get to it. She has to give it to me willingly. That’s the binding.”
He snorts. “So, why are you asking me for help? Shouldn’t you be wooing her, or whatever you do, with flowers and candy and all that?” He’s joking, but the joke stings a little.
“I need the key, Falcon,” I growl, and his grin fades. “And she isn’t some society girl. She’s gritty, born in the dust at the edge of the city. She isn’t going to be impressed by out-of-season flowers.”
“Are you so sure about that? Where did she come from?”
“Lowtown,” I mutter, looking toward the horizon, where it’s a smudge of smoke. I wonder if her sister and father are weeping and gnashing their teeth to let her out of their grip. My jaw tenses. Even the thought of them touching her... breathing near her...
“Lowtown?” Falcon repeats. “Then I would think pretty things and hot-house flowers would go further to winning your case with her.” He runs the backs of his nails along his lower lip, looking thoughtful. “Have you installed her in your club?”
“Of course, you think I’m stupid? She’s been watched. I grabbed her just in time. If I’d been even thirty minutes later...”
The key, and her, would be forever out of my reach. The thought makes me borderline nauseous. I’m not sure if the nausea is from the key or...
“Good, good,” Falcon nods. “I think I’ll stop by, then, have a look at her myself.” Something in my gut tightens, irritation running up my spine.
“What the fuck for?”
“The drinks? Your club has the best in the city, it’s why we all come there, and the company. But no, if she’s going to trust you, she’ll need to see the real you, the version of you that actually has friends.” He puts his sunglasses back on and stands up straight, stretching out again. “You can hold a conversation, can’t you?”
“Of course I can,” I growl and he laughs, a quiet, low sound. He knew what I was before I was locked here on Earth, bound to Greater Detroit, and primarily Uptown. I’ve always been a people person. Just the kind of people you don’t usually meet on the streets of the city.
The people I used to call friends? They weren’t exactly red-blooded, land-of-the-living types.
“It will be good for you. I’ll see you tonight.” He waves and gets into his car, the engine purring to life, and then he’s peeling out of the clearing at the edge of the cliff, dust rising in a plume.
I sigh and kick a rock with my boot. I know what he’s up to.
He’s not just going to show up and introduce himself as my friend. No, that would be far too simple. He’s going to show up and be his typical irritating flirty self. He’s going to try to charm her, and she’ll fall for it.
Not just because he’s attractive or rich. He’s a fucking monster under that smooth facade.
And if he’s determined, she’ll fall for it, hook, line and sinker. To test her, to test my limits, maybe.
