Page 4 of When Sinners Rise
“Which ones? There’s, like, a hundred of them.”
“Fischers and something. Service Contract?”
“Fischers, Lyme and Regent. It’s the next acquisition. And no, nothing about that would be down here with me.”
“Shit.”
“What’s it got to do with you?”
“I took three files from Marketing to him yesterday. One’s gone missing.” I shrug and keep sorting through the stack of other files on my to-do list today, placing each new piece into piles. “He’s going to kill me.”
“Luckily for you, you’re the brother of the boss’s fiancée. Just get Willow to deal with him.”
He doesn’t say anything else, just huffs and walks from the room. I’m not one for conversation, anyway. All I’m doing is starting at the bottom, trying not to feel as out of place as I am, and waiting for my life to change.
~
The day drags, just like all the others. I do the tasks assigned to me and carry on with the day, not really concentrating. I'm not really here. My head is always off wondering about what happened to us and why Landon hasn’t done anything or told me about the men wrapped up in all of this. First Cortez. Then Cane. He knows them both, and thatinformation eats at me every day. And this is why I’m only living half of my life because I’m stuck with the past haunting me – taunting me – because it’s so close still.
Landon’s sister, Ivy, could uncover what happened and who these people are. She’s an investigative journalist. She’d find a story in all of this for sure. She might even be able to make it so that Naja would be safe.
Would she come back for me?
I slam the laptop screen down and tense my jaw as I grab my bag and leave. The office is still busy – it always is. Broderick Media doesn’t sleep. Especially with Landon at the helm. It should be the best experience for me – actually doing real work and not stuck in lecture halls and libraries at university, but it’s not quite right. It feels fake, somehow. They both felt obligated, I’m sure. I mean, what do you do with someone like me when I’ve been dumped with you? Keep me busy doing what I want to do. Give me a purpose. Maybe then I’ll forget and move on.
Be safe.
That’s what Willow promised Naja when she and Jackson went on the run. But since they drove off, I’ve not heard anything, and the constant unknown and worry is a mess inside my head.
I take the long route down to the lobby, hoping to delay the inevitability of getting home. I should be happy. Landon’s old apartment certainly is more than I’d ever be able to afford in my lifetime, and he’s just given it over for me to use. It took time, though. He and Willow didn’t want me out of their sight for a while. More Willow than Landon. I thought I wanted to be out of their mansion and have my own space, and that would help. But it’s the opposite.
The building security is good, and it’s close to work, but I’m lonely, and every time I’m here, the memories seep back in, twisting the surroundings to those of when we were at thatclub. And at night, I swear I can hear the sound of those girls screaming with me. Everyone was so frightened. Terrorised. I’d never seen that kind of world before. We were made to parade around and dance, and men touched us harshly. They grabbed and groped us, and they treated us like property to be abused.
The vision of that one man – Elias – having his neck snapped by Jackson forces its way into my mind. He touched me. He would have raped me. He didn’t care how scared I was. None of them did. They just thought we were to be used as they saw fit. They snatched us from the busy street in Copenhagen, and brought us here, to London, to be trained and sold. If it wasn’t for Jackson and that explosion, I don’t know where I’d be now.
I’m in the lobby and ready to get the hell out of here.
“Hey, girl!” someone calls.
My eyes close, and I take a breath before looking back to see a man in a suit running for me, sweat dripping from his brow. I back up a step, frowning.
“You’re one of the law girls, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Come with me.”
“Excuse me?”
“Come on. I don’t have time for you to mess me around.” I follow at a distance, a little put out and not entirely at ease following a stranger back into the building, even if I know every square inch of this place is monitored by CCTV. He turns into an office and waves his hand at a sack truck full of boxes of files. “All this needs to be on the top floor. Thanks.”
“Wait-” But he’s gone before I get a chance to say I’m finished for the day. My hand on the exit wasn’t enough of a sign.
It’s gloomy as I push the cart towards the lift, and I realise it’s the automated energy switch off at seven. A nice idea, and with the lighter evenings now that it’s spring, it’s only a problemwhen it’s grey. Which, here in London, it seems to be all the time.
I push the button for the top floor and wait.
London isn’t like back home. Bigger skies there. Cleaner air, too.
