Page 39 of Sugar Coated

The warehouse was on the waterfront, in a district of the city I’d never been to. Run-down, old, dingy and dirty; nothing was new around here. I bet a lot of criminal activity went on in these parts.

Mike pulled his car beside Lola’s, and as we got out, Lola and the guy stopped whatever conversation they were having. Her blue eyes twinkled in the bright sunlight. “Hey, cutie. Have you ever met Harvey?” She flicked her thumb toward the guy she’d been talking to.

“I don’t think so, no.” I’d heard his name be mentioned before, but never actually met the man. He was cute, though way more clean-cut than any of her other men. Lola liked to surround herself with attractive guys, apparently.

Nothing wrong with that.

“Laina, this is Harvey. Harvey, Laina. Ain’t she just a ball of pastel cuteness?” As she said the last part, she wrinkled her noseat me, like I was some adorable kitten she wanted to cuddle with and take home.

Harvey smiled warmly. “I like the eyes.” Though he wore a suit, he didn’t seem like the typical man Lola would be interested in… unless they were just friends. She did mention she had three boyfriends, but that didn’t automatically mean there was no one else hoping to join her harem.

“Thanks,” I told him, but before I could say anything else, Lola grabbed my hand to study Fang’s contraption.

“This is kickass, girl,” she mused with a grin. “I’m loving it. That Fang does some pretty awesome work, doesn’t he?” I might’ve blushed when she said that, remembering the healing bite mark on my inner thigh, and though there was no way she could know what I was thinking, she still hummed with a smile, like she had her suspicions.

Deciding to change the subject, I asked Lola, “Should we get started?” Every part of me itched to get in that warehouse and see what we were dealing with here.

A starving, piss- and shit-stained man, probably, but beyond that, I was clueless. I’d never seen a tortured man before. Would he be out of his mind by now, or still furious that he was in Lola’s hands?

“You got it, babe,” Lola purred out, throwing an arm around my shoulder—and letting me see the tattoo on her inner bicep. A heel, or maybe a lipstick case? I didn’t get a long look. She tossed a glance to Harvey and Mike. “You gents wait out here, ‘kay? When the delivery guy gets here, do me a solid and let him in, will you?”

Lola guided me into the warehouse through a propped-open door, and I couldn’t help but ask, “You’re expecting a delivery?” Did she mean food, or…

“Yes. In fact, I think you’re gonna love it.” Lola lifted her arm off me and sauntered to the middle of the wide-open warehouse, lifting her mask to her face.

Whatever this building’s purpose was in the past, it was clearly rendered obsolete; even the roof needed some work. Glancing up, you could see the sky through places that had weathered away. The entire warehouse was cleared-out. Any sound made inside it had an echo.

When you lived in the better part of town, surrounded by huge houses, you forgot places like this existed.

The place was dark. Only one pendant light was situated in the center, illuminating our man. His arms were strung up over his head, his clothes dirty and stained with blood and other bodily liquids. Even from far away, he looked like shit, but the closer we got to him the more the scent of how dirty he was assaulted my nose.

He lifted his head when we approached, and when he locked gazes with me, I was a bit shocked to discover I recognized him. He was the asshole who hit me. Twice. I could tell by the way his beady eyes widened when he saw me that he remembered treating me so harshly.

“Looks like today’s your not-so-lucky day, bucko,” Lola drawled out, her voice a tad muffled by her metal mask. She circled him once, then stopped to his left, and when she turned her face toward me, I saw for the first time how hauntingly beautiful she was in that mask. If death had a face, that was surely it.

I tilted my head at the man. “Remember me? Of course you do. You kidnapped me, and then when I mouthed off, you hit me. Twice, if I remember correctly. I have to say, I like how the tables turned.”

Lola’s eyes narrowed in the man’s direction. “You hit her? Poor move, dick.”

“Fuck you,” he muttered, though it was half-hearted at best. His time here had already worn him down. “I ain’t telling you anything.” The dirt, sweat, and grime was so caked onto his skin the top layer cracked on his cheeks as he spoke.

Lola stepped closer to him and ran the backs of her fingers down along his face in a gesture that would otherwise be considered tender—only here, it was a gentle whisper of future violence. “I don’t like to speak for others, but I’m pretty sure the cutie and me are up for the challenge.” To me, she said, “Wait here.” And then, before I could say anything else, she sauntered off.

“Having the Bloody Queen on your side ain’t gonna mean shit in the end,” he hissed.

Folding my arms over my chest, I asked, “And why’s that?”

“In a city like this, it don’t matter who you got on your side. It only matters who’s after you.”

I inched forward, doing my best to ignore the scent of him. “And who’s after me?”

All he did was laugh. A hollow sound, but I felt it in my bones, and I swore to myself he wouldn’t be laughing soon enough. Soon, the only things that would come out of that mouth would be the truth or blood.

Metal squeaking as it moved filled the warehouse’s air, and I turned away from the asshole to watch Lola push a car toward us. This cart must’ve seen better days, much like this warehouse, but once she got close enough, I was able to see the contents of said cart.

A metal baseball bat. Knives of various sizes, including a scalpel. Brass knuckles. A wide variety of utensils that would make torturing this guy easy-peasy.

Whatever attitude the man had died the moment he saw what was on the cart, and I heard him gulp.

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