Page 19 of Convict's Game
“Why? I didn’t need it.”
“You could have. The guy she’s associated with, Salter, has history with the Four Milers. Since that gang blew up, nearly taking you with them, the stragglers and leftovers are scrabbling for new homes. Lesser collectives are forming and failing every week, blood spilled and grievances aired in that power vacuum. They are out there, and they know your face. It only takes for one of them to recognise you and game over.”
I shrugged. “Or, I fake-join their new crew.”
“No. Not happening. Enough people know you’re back with us and have been welcomed in. They’ll kill you for revenge.” Tyler braced his hands behind his head of dark-blond hair asif I’d stressed him out, then he exhaled and rested his elbows on the desk. “I won’t try to micromanage you, but I saw what Arran did to you when he was flipping out over Genevieve, and I fucking hated it.”
“Did to me?” I repeated his words, veering dangerously close to revealing how little I knew.
“Aye. He regrets it. We all do for not stopping him. Let’s not have you die before he can grovel to your face. Just be careful, okay?”
Odd emotion crawled through me, almost as unpleasant as the idea of finding out too much about my past. I didn’t deserve their care.
“I’ll keep watch and let you know if your man shows up,” I promised Tyler.
I couldn’t swear not to return.
In fact, I practically ran back upstairs, as much as my boot would allow, then I sat and watched the last ten minutes of Mila’s conversation, split screening it with the live view so I didn’t miss a thing.
I couldn’t tear myself away from her. Just like I’d confessed, the sound of her voice alone did strange things to my heart. And elsewhere.
A fourth woman had shown up in the time I was away, her long, braided hair held in a high ponytail that swished when she moved.
Everyone in that room was dressed in some form of revealing clothing, though not overtly sexual like the women in the brothel. Mila’s legs were bare with her hoodie long enough to make it appear like she had nothing on underneath. The one she’d named Esther had black shorts and a tight cropped top with her belly exposed, and the newer woman a long-sleeved minidress that skimmed her thighs. The youngster’s black dresswas the most revealing, something Esther kept side-eyeing with obvious irritation.
I couldn’t work it out. If they were selling themselves, why not go all out?
Getting comfortable on my bed, I listened in to their chat. Esther was talking, again, but a lull came in the conversation, and the teenager spoke up.
“How do you like your men?”
Mila tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
“It’s why we’re here,” the girl practically whispered. “I’ve been thinking about the money we’ll get and the fact they’ll get to do whatever they please. If the guys want us to be in lingerie, what’s the equivalent for them if the roles were reversed? What do you like your man to be in?”
Esther snorted. “Prison.”
The woman with braids smirked. “Concrete shoes and the bottom of a lake.”
Esther shoved her, and they both cackled.
The girl dropped her head.
Mila nudged her. “You mean what do I find attractive?”
The girl nodded.
Esther cut in again. “Men can wear lingerie. Like Tom Holland’s lip-sync battle where he sang ‘Umbrella’. That was hot as fuck, but if you’re thinking we’re going to meet sweet guys doing this shit, you’re fucking deluded.” She muttered something about dumb bitches her mother would slap sense into and rolled her eyes.
Mila ignored her and kept her focus on the girl, her expression kinder than Esther’s. “Let me see, what do I like? A dark-grey shirt, rolled-up sleeves to show tattooed arms, and open a few buttons at the neck. Worn-over jeans to show he isn’t flashy. Add a piece of rough jewellery like a leather bracelet and I’m deceased.”
The girl brightened. “I like that. My boyfriend always, I mean, he…”
She clammed up, and though I could only see the side of her face, I guessed her to have reddened. But it was Mila’s reaction to her that intrigued me. Her expression turned serious as if she was worried about the kid. She should be, considering where they were and the people around them.
Yet another reason to believe my fantasy woman wasn’t on Team Trafficker.
I watched for a while longer, texting Tyler so he was aware that this was ramping up. Four women, one with some kind of plan, one scared, one needing money, and something to do with men who’d have power over them. Nothing about this felt good.
