Page 47 of Death Match

“I could have guessed that much,” Mr. White said with a short laugh. “You may know how to move—I’ll give you that—but most don’t come here because they want to show off their dance skills.”

Exactly.

Mr. White leaned in closer to her. “Why do you need the money?”

This guy wasn’t letting it go.

Living-Jade sighed, defeated. “I need to get me and my sister out of the Heights. I’ve been working two jobs for the past few years, but I can make more in a day here than I do at both places in two weeks. I’m saving up so we can move.”

“You mean run away,” he said frankly.

Her eyes narrowed at that, not happy with his way of putting it. But then her shoulders fell, and she gave a short nod. “I’m going to do what I have to.”

Mr. White held up his hands. “No judgment here,” he said. “No one said this life would be easy, and people like us—we’ve got dealt the shittiest hand of all. But it can get better, you know. With a little help.” He reached back into his jacket and pulled out a wad of bills as big as his fist. All hundreds from the looks of it and wrapped in rubber bands. He placed it in front of her.

Jade’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“My friends like to think of me as a guardian angel type. Always looking out for the little guy. Or girl.” He was quick to add, smiling Jade’s way. “Let me help you get out of the Heights and whatever unfortunate situation you’re in.”

Still staring at the bills, her entire body grew rigid. Even I had never seen so much money in my life. It was drool-inducing.

She wouldn’t take the deal. She couldn’t. She knew better than that.

But damn, was that a lot of money.

Living-Jade peeled her gaze from the wad of hundreds and shook her head, as if to snap herself out of its trance. “What’s the cost?”

Mr. White’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected the question from her. Or the bluntness and attitude. He cleared his throat to recover. “Well, of course if I scratch your back, I expect to be scratched in return. It’s only fair.”

She pushed his chunk of money back toward him. “No thank you. Not interested.”

Mr. White’s jaw clenched, and he opened his fist beside the money, flexing his fingers one by one. Each knuckle cracked as he did so.

“I’ll come up with the money on my own,” she said and began to slide out of the booth. “Who told you I was here anyway? Was it Ricky?”

“No one told me anything,” he bit out between gritted teeth. “I’m what you’d call a regular here and just saw an unfamiliar face. One that looked like she needed some help.”

She huffed. “From a guardian angel like you?”

I snorted myself at that, now actually knowing a Guardian myself. And this guy was nothing like Eli, that was for sure.

Rage flashed across Mr. White’s face.

“I won’t be here for too much longer,” living-Jade said, unmoved by his obvious anger, “so if you like my dancing, I suggest you unroll that wad of cash you got there and start throwing them at the stage as I shake my ass. Because that’s the only way I’ll accept your money.”

Then she walked away, back toward the stage, leaving a visibly fuming Mr. White behind.

You go, girl!

As the swirling clouds crept into the picture, telling me my time was up with this section of my memory, I couldn’t help but wonder if this little exchange with Mr. White contributed to my death in any way. Realistically, I had turned away someone important in the Scarlet Knights. And in a very not so nice way.

The last thing I saw before everything was swallowed up and the coldness returned to my body was Mr. White’s piercing glare at my turned back and his angry whispers to his two friends. From the looks of it, I had made an enemy.

A very powerful enemy.

I may have just unknowingly signed my death certificate.

When the smoke cleared, I was back in the center of the maze with the humidity pressing down on me and the tall grass tickling my legs.

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