Page 26 of Scorching Sienna

“I don’t know who it was!” Same response as before.

“They messaged me anonymously and said I was to grab the girl. That’s all. You can check my phone. They paid me ten grand upfront and said I would get another ten when I dropped her off at a mall parking lot in Crawley. That’s it. I fucking swear. Check my phone.”

“Grab the girl,” I repeat, my tone deadly.

This is the same story Mancio gave me. Which didn’t make sense. If someone were out to screw me over, then they would send a different caliber of person. This made me think that perhaps I wasn’t the target at all. It could have nothing to do with me and everything to do with my Sienna.

Which angers me further. Why would anyone want to take her? And to do what with?

Dwindling Digits whimpers as I grab his phone from his jeans pocket, a frown creasing my brow when I see it is looking for a fingerprint to unlock the screen.

My eyes meet with his, and then he looks from the phone to his right index finger, marinading in the yellow and red puddle on the floor.

I take my knife and stab the digit with the tip before wiping the pad against Ricardo's shirt to remove the liquid. Once his cell is unlocked, I flick the severed finger to the side next to some crates.

In seconds, the number is with my IT department, filled with some of the best hackers in the world. Two of them were top graduates fresh out of MIT, and three others served time for charges of cybersecurity-related crimes.

“Please let me go. I gave you what you wanted,” Ricardo pleads, his tears running down his blotchy face and mixing with the snot dangling from his nose, across his lips, and dripping off his chin.

“You were going to put your hands on my girl.” Ricardo's eyes go wide at my words, the fear in their depths changing to shock as I plunge my knife deep into his chest, the crunch of bone meeting metal making me smirk.

It isn’t fatal, but it will attract the rats. It would be painful. This is a message to anyone who dared put their paws on my girl.

Ironically, one such rodent is already nibbling on his discarded finger close to the crates. It doesn’t even scatter when I walk past, so accustomed to this situation. Perhaps I am becoming too predictable, I think, eyeing the rat thoughtfully.

The guard monitoring this section opens the door for me, his head dipping in greeting.

“Dump the body when it’s done.” The instruction is followed by a ‘yes boss’ and a curt nod.

Two hours have passed, and my irritation at their waste further sours my mood.

I should have been at Yvonne’s. Watching Sienna while she tries to understand what style suits her.

She doesn’t know. Because she is not the same person she was three months ago. She has changed and doesn’t know this new self. In the back of her mind, she can feel it, and what I fucking adore is that she isn’t afraid to figure it out.

My rainbow doesn’t look away from this new reflection. She edges closer, eager to discover what lies behind it.

Luckily for me, knowing Yvonne, Sienna would still be trying on dresses.

Glancing at my shoes, I detour past my office atSinfor a quick shower and change of clothes. And a little trip to room one before returning to Yvonne’s.

Bob is nowhere to be seen, but I know he is around. Unlike the stupids being sent, he actually knows what he is doing.

When I enter the front doors, I am immediately on edge. No one is in the shop's front section where I last left Sienna. My heart rate instantly increases as I grab the hilt of my knife.

Stealthily, I maneuver between the rows of dresses, noise at the back of the shop drawing my attention.

“So let me get this straight. You have only slept with one man your entire life, and it was vanilla?” Yvonne's voice drips with disgust, and I sheath my knife, the relief flooding my body a foreign feeling.

As foreign as the concept of only sleeping with one man appears to be to Yvonne, who makes a gagging sound at the thought.

“Yes. But I’m not sure what you mean by vanilla?” Sienna’s voice comes from further back and is more muffled, as if she is pulling clothes over her head.

“If you don’t know, you have answered your own question.” Yvonne sounds utterly shocked as she picks up a set of red lingerie and drops it over the top of the curtain.

“Are you sure about this?” Sienna asks, her voice high-pitched. “I don’t see why I can’t just wear the bra and panties I have on now.”

“Geezuz. They hold the sex appeal of a dead fish. You have a fantastic body, Sienna. You should showcase it.” There is no mistaking the desire in Yvonne's voice as she runs a hand over her lip, the strategic position of her chair giving her a view of Sienna through the slit in the curtain.

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