Page 23 of Convict's Game
Convict’s gang emblem, had to be. He’d worn it on a bandanna around his throat on his first visit.
His voice stayed low. “The cash inside is yours. The mark on it is for the skeleton crew, the people who’ll vouch for me. Leave now, and I’ll drive you wherever you want to go.”
A moment of thick tension played out. The girl kept the wallet, peeking at Convict with a shift from fear to perhaps trust in her eyes. The gang name meant something to her.
At her tiny nod, I breathed a sigh of relief.
With gruff approval, Convict guided her to the window, talking her through how to get down. Annabelle slipped off her heels and perched on the sill. Left alone in the centre of the room, I held my ground, battling a sense of being abandoned. This was what I’d arranged. I didn’t want to go with them.
Convict came to me. “I’m taking you both.”
“No. I can’t go.”
Frustration played out in his features. “You can. You want that fate you spelled out?”
“It won’t happen to me. Believe me.”
“I won’t leave without you.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
Without a word, he palmed my jaw and gazed into my eyes. Then he pressed his lips to mine in a shocking, electrifying kiss. It was over before it began, and I swayed after him as if I wanted more.
“My heartbeat, my blood pressure, my dick. This is what you do to me. Tell me again how we’re strangers.” His lips curled at the edges.
At my back, the door opened, and I whipped around to see Esther. She froze, staring at us then at a disappearing Annabelle.
“What the hell are you doing?” Esther spat.
I made a gesture for her to stay silent, but she turned and fled into the hall.
I spun back to Convict. “Go! If she tells someone, they’ll catch you outside.” Then a lie fell from my lips. “Nothing will happen until midnight anyway. After that, I’ll have what I want and can leave. Alone, stranger. I don’t want or need your help.”
There was calculation in his eyes. He was deciding he could do both, free Annabelle then return for me. It was clear in his pursed lips then eventual nod.
He went.
It was all I could do to stare after him with my fingertips pressed to my mouth. Convict disappeared from sight, and I darted to the window. Down the alley, I caught a glimpse of the two figures, escaping to a car. Taillights flashed, moved out, then they were gone.
I’d done it. Annabelle wouldn’t get hurt.
I only had to ensure the same proved true for me.
Chapter 8
Convict
Playing taxi service to a scared kid hadn’t been on my bingo card tonight, and driving Mila’s foundling out to a run-down suburb in the outskirts of Deadwater nearly cost me my ass. I was running out of time to get back for the interview.
I watched Annabelle to the door, eyed the woman who answered it, a two-decades-older replica of the kid, then burned rubber back to the warehouse.
The sliver of moon tonight darkened the shadows, and the city felt all the more menacing. I fitted in perfectly to the murky aesthetic. If there were people out here who wanted to kill me, they had to get in line.
Outside our headquarters, I had seconds to spare, but as I stepped from the car, I instinctively reached for the tablet so I could check in with Mila on the cameras.
Fuck, no. She’d told me nothing would happen for hours. I didn’t trust that claim for shit, but for a more pressing point. She didn’t want my interference.
Every part of this felt wrong. The urge to return to that room and throw her over my shoulder nearly floored me, but Mila had made her decision. Whatever the pull towards her, she didn’t feel the same. We didn’t know each other, and she didn’t care.
