Page 26 of Chalk Outline
“No need to feel ashamed. I’ve seen worse. Follow me.” She orders and enters the house.
I stare dumbfounded, my mouth hanging open.
Is she for real?
“Come on,” she shouts from inside.
What do I have to lose?
It’s either that or looking over my shoulder, knowing someone is searching for the kid who murdered the owner of our city’s beloved circus. I don’t have anywhere else to go or even one adult I can trust. They’re all a bunch of fuckups. Maybe I am, too. So, it makes perfect sense for me to walk inside.
“Is this your home?” I ask, stepping through the front door and gazing at the grand staircase in the foyer.
A few men in dark tactical gear walk back and forth.
The white marble floor delivers me further inside.
“No. I’m here on business.” A short answer escapes her pursed lips as she clicks her heels against the floor in annoyance. “I don’t have all day.”
She walks to the right, and I follow behind.
What does she do for a living?
We pass by an extravagant living room adorned with crystal chandeliers, and a glass cabinet catches my attention. It’s filled with saxophones in different sizes and colors.
They look like trophies.
I quickly shuffle past an expansive wooden kitchen with mouthwatering appliances to fulfill everyone’s desires.
I’m starving.
I’ve only seen this kind of stuff in old magazines.
Her den is sparkling, not bleak.
“You can take a shower. My cook will make you breakfast. Then, you will be transported to a safe house where you’ll be trained. I’ll visit you once I’m done here. My most trusted operators will help you settle into your new home. I need you to read my contract and sign it.”
“What’s the catch?” I ask, entering a room with a wooden desk in the middle.
She suppresses a chuckle. “You seem clever, Reeve Hardy.”
My eyebrows pinch together. “How do you know my name?”
“I know everything.” She smirks, and that frightens me even more. That woman scares me in ways I never thought possible. I’ve lived with scumbags my whole life. I’ve committed crimes. There’s blood on my hands. She doesn’t threaten to hurt me, but the brutality in her eyes baffles me. She has definitely seen things in her life that others haven’t.
“You’re going to work for me now, and I will ensure you won’t end up on the streets.” She drops a stack of papers into my hand and tells the guard who followed us to take me upstairs.
Once I’m left in the room alone, I make a beeline for the joint bathroom.
This is a chance to have a fresh start.
I rub my neck as I look in the mirror—can’t stand the sight of my dirty reflection.
My gaze drops to the porcelain sink.
I have to do this. For me. For Mom.
What other choice do I have?
