Page 8 of Pin-up Girl

Pin-up, as Emmett had coined her, stepped into the alley, giggling her ass off and letting the door slam shut behind her. The door automatically locked. She wasn’t getting back in.

And she just walked out onto a fucking scene that couldn’t be explained any other way than what it was. An assault.

Countless jobs we’d carried out. If the police ever got a hold of us, I was sure the felony charges would be a mile long, with assault, blackmail, and extortion at the top. In all this time, we’ve never had a witness prance onto the scene. And this girl, a half-drunk college girl, was not the first person I’d pick to start.

At least Fuckface passed out from the pain. I lifted my leg from his, but I couldn’t waste the opportunity to fist his pressed collar and slam his head into the pavement. Pin-up gasped, her hand flying to cover her blood red lips.

“Really?” Milo nearly shouted.

I looked up at him with no remorse. She walked out to see us pinning Fuckface down and him screaming like a little bitch. No matter how smart she was, or drunk, she had to know we were fucking him up. So what did it matter if I cracked his head?

Not like she could think any worse of us.

Emmett stood and sauntered up to her. Even with his back to me, I knew the fucker was laying on the charm, flashing the smirk he liked to toss out like candy.

Standing slowly, I approached the left side of Emmett’s back. Milo took the right. I did my best to look nonthreatening, at least until we had her contained and knew what we were going to do about her.

She swallowed, her gaze darting between the three of us like she wandered upon three sadistic antichrists with no escape. She was not wrong. After all the shit we’d been through, there isn’t a lot of good left in us, if any at all.

We never had a fighting chance, not with who our families were. The only one that was even a tiny bit sheltered was Emmett, and that stopped at age twelve. By the time we were fifteen, we were already scheming ways to separate ourselves permanently. The only thing was, you had to dance with the devil to find the details. And the details were going to be our salvation.

Maybe after that, once we went our own way, we’d find a small piece of good. Until then, morals and consciences were a memory.

“Babe—” Emmett didn’t even get more than a word out before she pushed him so hard, he fell into us. He nearly took Milo out. I reached out a hand to steady him. In those two seconds, Pin-up was gone. She was a fast thing, and on crazy spike heels.

Color me impressed. Both with her strength, and her fucking agility.

She didn’t head the obvious way toward the parking lot. We would have caught her in seconds. Her quick plan was to take us on a merry chase through the maze of back alleys. We all ran after her, because letting her go wasn’t an option. Milo motioned with his hand for us to split up. We separated without a word and each ran a different direction. I took the right side, looping around the old bakery. It hadn’t been in business for years, offering no light at all as I stretched my legs to make up the distance.

Not even thirty seconds later, Emmett shouted her location. Cutting around the corner, I joined the chase, following right on Emmett’s heels. I saw her. Fuck. She was almost out of the alleys. Another block and she’d be back in the college district where anyone could see her. Help her.

How the fuck—

Milo appeared out of thin air, right in front of her, just in time for her to bounce right off his chest. He was not happy. None of us ever were after we fucked someone up. But now, our future could be on the line. We’d never had to worry about our targets. If they weren’t in it yet, they would be. They also understood the dire consequences of speaking out.

This bitch, she had no fucking idea who she was messing with. Milo let all of his anger and worry about the situation hang out for anyone to see. Ever the ladies’ man, Emmett tackled the feat of calming her down.

“What’s your name, babe?” Dear God, he was using his sex voice. Low and smooth, he was convinced all women loved it.

“If I gave a fuck, I’d tell you.” She smoothed her hands down her curvy waist, then patted her dress where pockets would have been. “Guess what? I don’t. Fresh out.” She ended on a sneer, and I could have kissed her. I didn’t think Emmett had ever been so crassly rejected.

Pin-up wasn’t as frightened as I thought she was. Sure, she was scared, but she was full of fire and seemed ready to do whatever it took to get away from us. Pin-up wasn’t stupid. She realized the situation she’d stumbled upon was dangerous for her.

Behind her, Milo took a deep breath and donned the mask he wore on campus, the one that said he was your best friend and would do anything for you.

“Cute. We’re not going to hurt you. We just want to chat. What’s your name?”

She twisted until she could see all three of us at the same time. We had already boxed her in. No getting away this time.

Emmett scrunched his face up as he stared at her. For once, his gaze was on a face and not the rack. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. “I’ve seen her around. I think she’s in my econ class.”

She twisted around again, her heels clattering against the asphalt. The whites of her eyes were starting to show. If she got spooked, she’d try to run again. That wasn’t going to happen. Until we knew what we were going to do with her, I refused to hurt her. For my peace of mind, I prowled around her, outside of Emmett and Milo. My muscles were loose and moving. The first step she tried to take, I’d be on her.

“Listen, babe. You aren’t leaving until we get some answers. How about we go back to the Shack and get to know each other?”

I nearly rolled my eyes. Like that was going to make her feel safe with us.

“This has been fun and all, but I can’t hang around. This bitch has things to do. And my girlfriend’s waiting on me. You don’t want her to call the cops if I don’t find her, do you?”

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