Page 37 of Heartless Sinner

"It's blank." His voice drops to a growl, but the announcement makes my stomach burn as if someone poured acid inside me. "The whole fucking thing is blank."

Oh God. Please, no. This isn’t happening.

“It can’t be blank. I did everything I was told to do.” I hate the way my voice quivers and the desperation in my tone.

“What did you do to it?”

"Nothing. I got it from exactly where you said."

The guard who ushered me in points his gun at me while one of the others takes the device from the tall guy.

“Estes, this chip is a dud. It’s never been used. I think we’ve been played,” the guy with the device says, scanning the screen.

Tall guy—Estes—looks back at him, and his scowl deepens. "They fucking set us up. Micah Delarosa must have known we’d come.”

“Fuck. What should we do? The boss isn’t going to be happy.”

“Let’s get out of here. This whole operation is compromised.”

They move, heading to the van parked by the doors as if I don’t exist.

“No. No, no, no wait.” I rush after them and hold up my hands. “What about the money? I finished the job.”

“Sorry, sweetheart. As far as I’m concerned, you didn’t do a goddamn thing.” Estes walks ahead without looking at me.

“But I went to New York and stole it for you. Please.” I grab his arm. “I need that money by tomorrow. You have to pay me.”

He flashes my hands off him as if I’m a parasite then whirls around and holds up his gun, pointing it at me.

I freeze, fear suddenly clogging my throat like tar.

“Look, lady, this is the payment you get. You get to keep your life. You fucked up. That means you’re a loose end I should tie up. Now, fuckingleave before I blow your brains out all over the floor.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll leave,” I stutter, feeling the life already leaving my body with his threats.

“Go! And if you say a word about us, you’re dead. So is your old man and that no-good brother of yours.”

This can't be happening. The room and my brain spin like one of those crazy carnival rides as bile rises in my throat.

“Get out!” he shouts louder. I stumble backwards, reality hitting me that I’ve failed. And I’m fucked.

My legs move automatically, carrying me backward toward the door. I keep my eyes on the man and the gun, hoping he doesn’t change his mind and decide to shoot me in the back or my head.

It’s not until I reach the door that I break into a run and bolt outside into the rain. It hits me like needles, each drop adding more weight to my failure.

I failed.

Oh my God, I failed. How could I have gone through so much to end up with nothing?

How?

I run as fast as I can back to my car, then jump in and drive away.

I don’t remember the drive back home, only the roar of blood in my ears and the whirlwind of worry in my heart.

Feeling like I may shatter, I stumble into the living room. Dad hobbles in at the same time, his face riddled with a sickly mixture of fear and unease.

"Scarlett?" His voice is so gentle. So worried. I’m sure he can tell I failed just from looking at me. "Baby girl, what happened?"

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