Page 5 of Arran's Obsession

Shit. I’d fucked up so badly here. I looked between the stranger and his newly arrived gangster friends.

Then I took a breath, threw his wallet in his face, and ran like the devil was chasing me.

Three hours later.

Leaving the city centre on my scooter, I zipped into an urban suburb and along the dark street of Paignton Place. Riordan’s girlfriend lived here, and my brother still wasn’t answering his phone, so I was doing a drive-by while on the way to collect my next delivery.

I had to find Dad and talk to him. I needed Riordan to answer my goddamned calls. As neither were forthcoming, I’d moved on to plan B.

Even if this was the last place I wanted to be.

Work had been stacked all evening. At a little past midnight, the queue of jobs was still deep and more adding, though the food choices changed from fancy restaurants to late-night take aways and cheaper options. The city was full of university students as well as young professionals who lived in expensive waterside apartments and enjoyed the nightlife. Then there was the underbelly of the gangs and their hangers-on. It made for a rich after-dark industry. On my two wheels, I cruised past itall, headphones in, and only the stabbing pain from my injuries distracting me.

Outside Moniqua’s block of flats, I parked my scooter, hoping it would still be here in a few minutes, and jogged up the steps, stretching to tap on the buzzer. I didn’t have any contact details for Moniqua so couldn’t warn her in advance, but I’d texted Riordan. Not that my brother had read his messages.

The box on the wall clicked, but nobody spoke.

I pressed the intercom again. “It’s Genevieve, Riordan’s sister. Can I come up?”

A pause followed, then the door popped open.

The sharp stench of piss welcomed me inside, and the sole hallway light flickered, giving the long row of entrances beyond it an ominous feel. Only once had I visited here in the past, when Riordan and I had dropped off groceries.

I’d never warmed to Moniqua but I was glad Rio was a good boyfriend to her dumb ass.

Five minutes, in and out. I could do this.

Up the stairs, I skipped to the third floor, not lingering in the corridors. Music pounded from somewhere, and a mixture of odours beat out the urine, the acridity of crack overlaid with the sweeter notes of a joint.

At my knock, a man opened the door. “Well, well. See what we’ve got here.”

I recoiled. If I disliked Moniqua, I was scared of Don, her cousin. He was a gang member through and through, from the tattoo of a spiderweb on his face to the violence built into his every move.

In his casual grip, he held a knife.

“Only to see Riordan, if he’s here,” I whispered.

Don drew his gaze down me, lingering on my bare legs. Then he jerked his head for me to go inside. My brain rebelled, my limbs wanting anything other than to squeeze past him into theflat, but this was necessary. The door opened straight into a wide living room, a collection of worn chairs and sofas at one end and the kitchenette at the other.

Don paced over and dropped his blade so it embedded in the carpet, right beside Moniqua who leaned on a sofa, a woman at her back wrapping her thick hair around a curling tong. She scowled at her cousin who snarled back.

“Clean it, and take that fucking look off your face.”

Don strode away, and I exhaled fear.

I scooted over to Moniqua. “Is my brother here?”

“Can you see him?” She picked up the knife, her pouty lips curling in disgust.

“No, and he isn’t answering his phone. I need to talk to him.”

“What about?”

I hesitated. “Family matters.”

“I’m his woman. I know everything about him.”

I doubted that, but I wasn’t about to say as much to the person cleaning a questionable brown stain from her cousin’s weapon.

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