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She bangs on the window and shouts at me but I simply smirk as I cup my hand to my ear, mouthing “What? I can’t hear you,” before turning away.
The door to the apartment block isn’t locked, and there’s no elevator so I take the piss-stained stairs up to the top floor. No need to guess which door’s Candy’s – the bright red ‘WHORE’ paint gives it away, though this time it’s dried, not fresh. The door is ajar so I carefully push it open, flick on the lights and take in the scene before me.
There’s paint and broken glass everywhere. Every single wall is scrawled with obscenities and insults.
No way in hell is she seeing this.
I snap a few pictures on my phone, then leave the flat without switching off the light or closing the door behind me and I call North again.
“What now?” he snaps, sounding stressed, his voice edged with frustration. I can practically see the creases forming on his forehead as he speaks, his tone sharp and agitated. I grimace, feeling a shiver of exhaustion run down my spine. It’s been one hell of a night, that’s for sure, and his impatience isn’t helping.
“I’m taking Candy to my place,” I respond, my voice filled with a mix of weariness and concern. “Her friend’s flat has been vandalised, and her place is trashed.”
As I speak, I visualise the chaos that we’ve just stumbled into. I pull the phone away from my ear for a moment and ping the pictures I took over to him, hoping that the visual evidence will convey the urgency of the situation. A moment later, there’s a heavy silence, broken only by his soft, frustrated curse.
“Who the heck is this girl?” he demands, his voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and irritation. I can almost picture his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
“I don’t know,” I admit, feeling a deep uncertainty gnawing at me. “But I think she needs our help. Get Wint to look into her friend and see if that turns up any answers. She said she’s applied for membership at ‘For Me’.”
He takes a deep breath, the sigh on the other end of the line heavy with resignation. “Take her to the house.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, my own uncertainty still lingering. The concern in my voice is mirrored in my furrowed brow and the slight wrinkle that forms between my eyebrows.
“Just do it,” he says, his tone softening slightly. “It’ll be fine. I’ll speak to the others.” And with that, he cuts the call, leaving me with a mixture of emotions swirling within me – worry, relief, and a lingering sense of foreboding as I prepare to take Candy to safety.
CANDY
Don looks absolutely terrifying as he storms out of my building, his face contorted with anger, practically daring anyone to cross his path. My heart races and my breath catches as he unlocks the car, wrenching the door open with a force that could easily tear it off its hinges. He climbs inside and slams it shut with such ferocity that the window rattles, and I flinch at the sound.
His hands grip the steering wheel so tightly that it creaks under the pressure, but he doesn’t immediately start the engine. Instead, he takes a series of deep breaths, his flaring nostrils gradually signalling a partial return to calm.
Throughout this ordeal, I remain silent, not out of fear, but out of a wary curiosity about what might have triggered this extreme reaction. Perhaps I should investigate the situation for myself.
As I reach for the door handle, a low growl emanates from Don freezing me in my seat.
“Don’t even think about it, Sugar. You don’t need to see what’s up there,” he warns with a protective edge to his voice.
My shoulders slump, and I reluctantly release the door handle, sinking back into my seat while fastening my seatbelt. Ina painfully quiet voice, I admit, “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
Don’s expression softens, though his anger still lingers in the tense set of his shoulders and his vise-like grip on the steering wheel. “Wouldn’t matter if you did,” he grumbles. “You’re staying with us. It’s too dangerous elsewhere.”
“But, what do you mean staying with ‘us’? Who’s ‘us’?” I ask, my confusion tinged with worry.
“Me and the guys,” Don responds, his eyes now dancing with a hint of amusement. “I can’t have you running off now, Sugar.”
My embarrassment surges as I stammer, “I can’t do that!”
He steals a glance at me, the anger from earlier still visible in his posture and the tense set of his shoulders, but his face is more amused than irate now. “And why’s that, Sugar?”
My cheeks flush, and I find it challenging to articulate my feelings. “You’re my boss. You’re all my bosses! I didn’t know, by the way. If I had known, I would never have... If I’d known, me and you, we wouldn’t have...I’d never…” My voice trails off, and the weight of my words hangs in the air, leaving my whole body ablaze with embarrassment.
Don’s face softens, and he turns to me with a gentler expression. “Sugar, you didn’t know, and that’s on me. There’s definitely no hard feelings there, and you’re not in any sort of trouble. But you’ll be safe with us, I promise.” His words are laced with a sincerity that eases some of the tension in the car.
I nod slowly, still feeling a mixture of embarrassment and relief. “Okay, but can you at least tell me what’s going on? Why did you look so furious back there?”
Don takes another deep breath, his anger dissipating as he prepares to share with me. “It’s a conversation we can’t have right now, I’d rather get out of here just in case your place is being watched. Just be aware, we’re going to keep you safe. There’s something troubling happening, and your apartment…”He grimaces. “It’s not in the best shape, far worse than your friend’s house was.”
My heart sinks. More damage I can’t afford to pay for. Fuck.
