And yet I was desperate. I was in a dry spell and hadn’t boosted much of anything in the last week, and I needed some money if I wanted to eat. I wasn’t about to whore myself out, so it was either steal or starve.
I chose steal. I fucked up.
It wasn’t my best decision ever.
There was a noise in the hallway. I didn’t know how long I’d been there—it was hard to tell time while blindfolded. My wrists ached from struggling and the blindfold was digging into my temple. The gag was tied loosely, and I could spit it out if I wanted to, but I thought better of pissing off the Healy family more than I already had.
A door opening. Creak of feet on floorboards. The door closing again. I shifted slightly trying to see out the blindfold but there was nothing—
Until it was pulled off.
I sucked in a breath. The light hurt my eyes. I was in some empty room with nothing more than a bare bulb up above me and the chair I was tied to. The walls were white and bare and the window was covered with bars on the inside.
Which meant it was the sort of room they used to keep people in, and not necessarily something to keep people out.
Ronan crouched in front of me. He smiled, head tilted to one side. Light eyes, wicked smile. I despised that stupid look on his face, the cocky jerk.
“I really hate that we’re doing this,” he said. “You know that, right?”
“Then let me go,” I said.
“You stole.” He rubbed his face with one hand then stood up. He was a tall bastard and loomed in front of me. “The money I might’ve forgiven. You steal, that’s what you do, and catching you trying to take cash from me would’ve put you in my services for a very long time.” His smile showed teeth. “You wouldn’t have liked that.”
“I can work off the debt,” I said, breathless. “I swear, I can figure it out.” My heart raced. I didn’t understand what he was saying. I just kept thinking, find some way out, there’s got to be a way out, there’s always a way out.
“I’m sorry, but you took something you shouldn’t have,” he said.
“What are you talking about?” I shook my head wildly. “I took some cash, that’s it.”
“USB drives,” he said. “A lot of them. I don’t even know how many you grabbed. And they’re still missing.”
My eyes went wide. God, those stupid USB sticks. I didn’t even know why I took them, it was mostly instinct. I was surprised when those guys showed up and shoved whatever I had at hand into my pockets before I tried to escape.
“I can tell you where they are,” I said quickly. “I have no clue what’s on them. I didn’t even mean to take them.”
“See, there’s the problem,” he said. “If it was cash or drugs, I can understand that. Thieves can’t be trusted. Your type always fucks up.” He leaned toward me and touched my chin gently with his index finger. “But you took the one thing in that office I really didn’t want you to touch. The one thing a thief like yourself should’ve thought was worthless.” He pressed the finger harder. It almost hurt. “Who sent you?”
“Nobody,” I whispered. “What are you talking about? I stole them by accident. I panicked, I grabbed them and ran, I didn’t—”
He hit me hard. I gasped, shocked. Stars curled at the edge of my vision. He sighed and rubbed his knuckles gently.
“Who sent you?” he asked.
“Please,” I said. “Nobody sent me. I’m desperate, I was out of cash—”
He hit me again and again. I tasted blood and my ears rang like a siren went off next to my head. I spit out a glob of something black and hoped it wasn’t a tooth.
“One more time,” he said softly. “Who sent you?”
“Ronan, seriously,” I said. “I’m out of cash, I needed something to tide me over, nobody—”
Shouts from outside. Ronan held his fist up, but cocked his head to one side like a dog listening to barking in the distance. More shouts, angry and closer.
Then a gunshot. The pop was distinct and it was very, very close.
“Lucky girl,” he said and walked to the door, seemingly unconcerned that someone was shooting. “Don’t move. We’ll finish this later. When I come back, you will tell me the truth.”
He opened the door and slammed it behind him.
My head lolled to one side. He’d hit me so hard I could barely think.
I’d been beaten before. Not on the streets, but back home. My father, after drinking too much. He’d hit me until I bled, and would only stop if my mother asked him nicely.
She could’ve asked him right away, after the first punch.