Page 17 of Blindside Sinner

I’ve got my father’s luck in me. Nothing good like this can last. Still, I’m determined to enjoy the ride as long as I can.

We finish our meal in record time. After a round of hugs and promises to meet up again soon, it’s time to go. I walk Cassie to her car, then slip back through the kitchens and out the back door.

It’s payment day.

The alley behind Rusty’s is darker than sin and smells like old trash and spoiled food. It’s gross and creepy and probably riddled with disease.

But that’s not what sends shivers down my spine.

No, those are reserved for the man leaning against the wall across from me.

The Bloodhound is six and half feet of muscle and rage. He’s handsome enough, with features that almost remind me of Beck’s in a weird, shivery sort of way, but everything about him is just too sharp to be appealing. He looks pissed at the world and willing to do some damage to any part of it he can get his hands on.

I, however, am not interested in filling the position of his punching bag.

“Reeves.” His voice is snakes-on-a-gravestone creepy and my hindbrain is desperately shrieking at me to run as far and as fast as I can. “You got my money?”

I peek at the end of the alley where two shadows lurk, only visible by the cherries of their cigarettes. The Bloodhound brought enforcers for a routine payment pickup.

Not a good sign.

I pull the fat envelope out of my bag and hand it over. “It’s all here, with the late fee included.”

“Excellent. How’s work going?”

I try very hard to keep my body from freezing up. I don’t want the Bloodhound to know about my new job. Not only because I don’t want my situation to blow back on Beck, but he has a habit of upping my payments so that no matter how much I make, I’m barely surviving.

I shrug, a stilted attempt at being casual. “It’s good. Busy, as usual.”

“Haven’t seen you in the diner lately.”

Fuck.I need to remind Monroe to keep the staff silent about my whereabouts. “I’ve been taking on some other work. Babysitting, mostly. It pays better.”

That’s sort of the truth, right? My pulse is racing. God, I hope he believes me.

The Bloodhound stares at me, dead eyes peering into my soul until my back breaks out in a cold sweat. Finally, he nods and tucks the envelope in his back pocket.

“This was your last grace period, Reeves. Next time, the late fee will be something a little more… personal.” He steps forward, his body dwarfing mine as he strokes a finger down my cheek.

Coming from a lover, it would feel like adoration. But when the Bloodhound does it, there’s no doubting what it is: a threat.

“Copy that. I won’t be late again.”

He holds my gaze for another nauseating few breaths. Then he and the goons disappear and I’m left bent in half, sucking in rancid air like I’ve been underwater for an hour.

10

SLOAN

By the time I get back to Beck’s, I’m exhausted. All I care about is washing the stench of fear from my skin and going to bed.

Instead, the gates open to reveal…

Absolute mayhem.

“I knew this was too good to be true,” I snarl, hopping out of my car and wading through the drunken crowd spilling out Beck’s front door.

There are people everywhere. On the patio. The porch, The terrace.

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