But it’s not a friendly face that steps out the back door.
It’s him.
Nero’s making a call on his cell phone, his voice steady and lethal. The light catches his face properly for the first time, and I stifle a gasp. In the ten years since I saw him last, I’ve thought of him a million times. But I’ve been picturing the boy he used to be at twenty. Lanky, still filling out; a mop of dark curls, and a boyish smile that could tempt you into breaking all the rules.
But the man staring in the doorway is cut from raw steel. Hard and unflinching. He looms there, muscles taut against the fabric of his black T-shirt and jeans; mottled tattoos spilling up his neck. He’s unshaven, his hair tousled, and his eyes full of contempt as he barks an order on the phone.
I feel an ache, memories rushing back like a tidal wave. But I force them back. I can’t go down that road, not right now, shoved up against the wall with this drunk asshole about to give the game away.
About to end my shitty life forever.
“Yeah, baby…” The drunk guy’s hand moves between us, and I hear the sound of his zipper. I fight the rising bile in my throat. Nero is still standing there oblivious, barely twenty feet away from us.
He hasn’t noticed us here in the shadow of the dumpster, but if I struggle… If I scream…
He’ll hear me.
And then it’ll all be over.
In a split-second, I weigh the impossible choice. Either I let this drunk guy rape me here in the alleyway…
Or Nero Barretti will find out exactly where I disappeared to. And not just me, either.
He’ll find my little brother, too.
God help me.
I close my eyes, tears hot on my cheeks as I sink back against the wall.
Make it fast, I pray. Just get it over with.
The drunk guy is pawing at me, breathing faster now in anticipation. “Baby, yeah…” he groans, yanking my skirt higher. “I know you want it."
What I want is the past ten years of my life back. To be somewhere far away from this grimy alley, and these grubby hands, making impossible choices just to stay alive.
“Fuck,” he groans, fumbling with his limp whiskey dick. “Just gimme a sec, I’m getting harder, I’m getting—”
Just like that, he’s gone.
My eyes fly open in time to see Nero hurl the guy to the ground and bring his heel down on the man’s head with a sickening crunch.
“Hands off the merchandise.” Nero tells him coldly. “This one’s taken.”
He gives me an assessing look, like there’s not a decade of history between us. “Lily Fordham,” he says coolly, eyes lingering on my ripped blouse and hiked-up skirt. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
I’m reeling from the icy scorn in his gaze, but Drunk Guy isn’t out yet. He lurches to his feet, roaring angrily, and lunges at Nero. Caught off guard, Nero stumbles back, and the guys go careening into the dumpsters.
I don’t wait around for another second. I take off, my heels clattering on the asphalt as I bomb it across the parking lot to my ancient Jetta. I pull my keys from the pouch around my waist and jam them into the ignition, hands shaking so hard it takes me three tries just to get them in.
The engine sputters.
“Please start, please start.”
I chant it, sobbing, until finally it bursts to life. I pull away, tires screeching, damn near breaking the speed limit driving across town until I pull up outside my rundown apartment complex and race inside. I hurry up the stairs to my floor, and slam the door behind me, shoving the deadbolt into place.
I sink to the floor, my heart pounding.
What do I do now?