Page 13 of Convict's Game
The neon light that shone into her room cast over her bed in streaks, but it didn’t touch her, like it was allowing her to hide from the light.
At length, it too went out.
When dawn streaked the sky overhead, I gave up and drove home.
Mila: 1. Excitement: 0. Boner: …undecided.
I wasn’t a fan of being out in daylight, and if my woman of interest wasn’t doing anything, I could watch that from the comfort of my bed.
At the warehouse, the streets and car park were empty, the revellers gone home, but inside, Manny still watched the cameras in the guard room. He lifted his head at my arrival.
“Hey. Can I have a new phone?” I asked.
Manny tugged open a drawer and fished out a box. “Didn’t Tyler give you one already?”
“He did. Someone else has it now.” Luckily, I had the number memorised. With nothing much in my head, it had stuck. A thought sprang to mind. “I don’t suppose we can track that one, can we?”
Life sparked in his tired eyes. “All our staff phones are traceable. Some of our people, too. Need me to do that now?”
“Not yet, but good to know for future reference.”
I thanked him and asked after Tyler and Shade, but both were out. I went to leave, but Manny stalled me.
“Shade asked me to talk to you about your pay.” On one of his screens, he brought up a form. “As you were undercover, we took you off the official books. I’ve been holding on to your pay, so the money’s waiting, if you want it.”
I peered at the screen which showed a payslip, and an odd feeling passed over me. A cursory glance at the address showed me the area was different to the one the hospital had for me, but I didn’t want to note the street or any more details.
Remembering too much about my life at once would be an overload. At some point, I’d need to go home, wherever that was, but today was not that day.
I stuck my hands into my pockets. “Can I get a printout of that?”
“Sure thing. Do you need any cash?”
I stared at him. “For real?”
Manny rattled something under his desk then brought out an envelope. Inside was a wedge of notes. “I’ve kept this back for you, locked in the safe. You can have all of it, or I can transfer the same amount to your bank now you’re officially back on the crew.”
Fuck. If I had a bank account, I had no way of accessing it. Maybe the answer to that was at my home address, but that strange, cold feeling wouldn’t budge.
“I’ll take some now then leave the rest for later, if you’re good with that?”
Manny inclined his head and passed me the envelope. I extracted a stack of twenties and handed the rest back.
The security chief regarded me. “Need a wallet, too?”
I choked on a laugh. “That would probably help.”
The resourceful man located one in a stock cupboard. It had our crew logo of a skull wearing a bandanna across its lower face.
I thanked him for a second time and left, turning the wallet over in my hands. That image of the skull was me, in a way. A stripped-back, empty-headed version of what had previously been a man.
I still carried the worst feeling that if I did discover enough about my past, I wouldn’t like what I found.
My next mission was food, and though the clubs were closed, there was still a kitchen in operation upstairs in the brothel part of the huge warehouse, where the clientele presumably built up an appetite after fucking their woman or man of choice.
I strode through the reception area where a few tired and mostly naked women waited on newcomers, sweet talked the cook into frying me up a burger, then retraced my steps with the food already devoured while I waited for the lift.
A lass in a see-through baby doll nightie, completely naked underneath with the front cut away to display her bare pussy, waved at me in greeting, her dark-haired friend leaning in to askwho I was. She whispered her answer, and I picked up my name plus ‘Arran’s oldest friend’. Was I? Shit, who knew.
