Page 52 of Prohibited

Then, they proceeded down the hallway slowly, searching the rooms. All filled with crates. Not a soul to be found. When they came to the last door, Roberts kicked it open, revolver held in front of him, and several boys inblue flowed through the door after him. The room was dominated by a cell. Just the sight of it sent a stab of fury and frustration through him. All this time, she’d been here and he hadn’t known.

“Clear,” Roberts said, putting up his revolver and then fitting it into the holster at his hip. He turned to find Stanley staring at the empty cell with eyes that nearly glowed with rage.

He turned toward the redhead girl and grabbed her face again, slamming her back into the wall. The barrel of his gun found its way to her cheek.

“Where is she?” he asked, more anger in his voice than Roberts had ever heard.

“Stanley,” he said, putting his hand on Stanley’s arm. “Stanley, she’s a fucking girl!”

Stanley huffed a small laugh, eyes flashing. “Why do you imagine that would make a difference to me?”

“She hasn’t done anything!” Roberts said, not relinquishing his hold on Stanley’s arm.

“Roberts, know your place,” Stanley said in a cold, quiet voice that did what it intended to. Roberts fell silent.

A surge of fury went through him, but Roberts calmed himself, taking in a deep breath through his nose. He scrambled for a solution that wouldn’t involve the body of one more innocent person he had to clean up. “She could be useful. More useful alive. Don’t do anything rash.”

Stanley stood still as a statue, staring at the young woman, who glared back at him. Then the corner of his scarred lips lifted into a brief, humorless smile thatvanished as quickly as it came. “You know, Roberts, I think you may be right.”

Then, he unceremoniously shoved the young woman toward him, causing them both to stumble.

“Take her to my house.”

Chapter eighteen

Ryan

It was late and Ryan was drunk, but there was a little more work to be done before he could turn in for the night. He sat on a box next to Joey in the basement of the candy shop, reviewing the deliveries for the next day, and wishing he could be home sleeping in his own bed and not having to curl up in the damn, rat infested cellar that was packed full of crates of their illicit stock.

Maybe he should have had one less whisky.

“There’s another shipment of cider coming in tomorrow that Malcolm is sending over from the farm.” He blew out a long stream of smoke and suppressed the urge to yawn. “Ivan will be collecting it from Alejandro, the driver.”

Joey nodded, looking far more alert than Ryan. This wasn’t surprising, considering that Joey didn’t drink. Smart man. And a good one to have around. They never had to worry about him drinking the profits.

“Ivan will bring half of it here and deliver the other half to Alex’s houses.” Ryan rubbed his eye with the wrist of the hand holding the cigarette. “I’d like you to be here tomeet him when he drops off the delivery. And then I’d like you to ride with him over to Alex’s house to drop off the rest of the delivery.”

“Can do,” Joey said, puffing away on his cigarette. “Anything else?”

“I think that’s all.” Ryan offered his hand to Joey, who took it firmly and gave it a shake. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” Joey gave him a small salute and then saw himself to the stairs, closing the door firmly behind him.

Now it was just Ryan in the little basement. Lindsay was upstairs sulking. Alex was upstairs, too, talking to Lindsay or fucking him, it was hard to say. And Evelyn, luscious, delicious Evelyn, was locked up safely in a small side room that functioned more like a closet.

He tried not to think about the look on her face as he’d closed the door on her and locked it. For his own consolation, he’d given her an oil lamp so that she wasn’t stuck alone in the dark.

His mind lingered there with her, burning with jealousy and longing when he thought of the sounds that had flowed from the back of the truck into the cab while they’d been driving. In that moment, he’d have given anything to switch places with Lindsay. Part of him was fucking furious with Lindsay. It felt like a deliberate slap in the face after the row they’d had. The other part of him didn’t begrudge him at all. Who could blame him?

“Are you trying to burn the place down?” a voice said in his ear, startling him.

“Jesus,” he hissed and turned to find Alex’s cobalt eyes staring into his from a hair’s breadth away.

Something strange happened to his stomach and a tingle passed down the back of his neck.

“You scared the fucking shit out of me,” Ryan said. Licked his lips.

“You dropped your cigarette on the rug,” Alex said. He leaned his elbow on the bar, smiling the cruel, lazy smile of a vicious white cat.

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