21. Zira
ZIRA
The sedative I stole from Valentina’s medical kit was much stronger than I expected. Bradley was out like a light, and with his unconsciousness came unbelievable levels of guilt.
He’s a nice man.
A good man.
He fucks like he cares, like I’m something worth holding on to, and that feeds into the guilt as I dress quickly and sneak barefoot out of the bar and into the dark street.
He’s too nice, really. A man like that deserves something better than me, and as much as I sort of trust him to keep me safe, my brother is more important.
Maybe I would have stayed, but the two healing gunshot scars on Bradley’s body stood out like a beacon while he was on top of me, constantly reminding me that I tried to kill this man and there’s a chance he’s harboring a desire to kill me deep down inside.
It’s a risk I can’t take, not when I don’t know how my brother is or what’s happened to him.
At the end of the alley, I break into a sprint and race away from the bar as fast as I can until the drifting music from the party is swallowed by the late-night noises of the city.
Stumbling over sharp stones and dirt on the ground, I dart around trash and other party people out celebrating.
A few people yell after me, but I ignore their concern because every yell stands a chance of being Bradley or one of his people and I can’t risk getting caught.
If I can’t get to my brother, then there’s no telling when or if I’ll ever see him again.
I don’t stop running until I’m panting harshly, completely out of breath, and my body burns so hot that the coolness of the night air doesn’t even register. Standing under a streetlight, I seek out my phone from the small bag clutched to my dress and send a quick message to my brother.
[Zira] I’m free. Where can we meet?
He doesn’t reply.
Would it kill him to text me immediately?
Rolling my eyes, I tap through to my socials and search my brother’s page in case there’s anything there, but it’s as inactive as always.
I text him the same message three more times just in case one got lost in the ether somewhere, then lean against the streetlight to catch my breath.
This is fine.
If what I stole from Valentina is anything like what Bradley put in my own drink, he’ll be out for a few hours, at least. I need to get away from here and gather my thoughts.
As I huddle in my dress, fighting to ignore the warm damp seeping between my thighs, a taxi pulls up in front of me and rolls down the window.
“Need a cab?” asks an older woman from the driver’s seat.
“No, sorry. I’m okay.”
“You sure?” She looks me up and down over the top of her glasses. “You okay, honey?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just… waiting.”
“With no shoes?”
I hold them up by the straps. “Sore to walk in.”
“Alright, dear.” She pauses even as I flash her a smile. “This isn’t exactly a safe place to linger at night. Where you headed?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t have any money or anything, so I can’t. Thank you.”
“Well, I can’t drive away in good conscience and leave you here,” the woman replies after a glance around. “Hop in, honey. I’ll take you to a diner I know. It’s not far, but it’ll be a damn sight safer place for you to wait than a street corner.”
“Are you sure?” My heart lifts a little and I squint, quickly studying her to see whether this really is a safe option. She seems normal, rather kind, actually, and reminds me of a woman who regularly comes into the jewelry store.
“Completely. Hop in, honey.”
“My lucky night,” I say as I slide into the back of the taxi, groaning now that my feet are no longer pressed against the cold, hard ground.
The woman drives off and occasionally glances at me in the mirror. “Rough night? You look stressed.”
“A little. My, uh…” I pause and for lack of a better word, choose the closest I can think of. “My boyfriend took me to his friend’s birthday party, and it was okay, but I didn’t really know anyone. Then he just wanted to get laid, so I left.”
Guilt worms in my gut as the driver nods. “Men,” she mutters. “They’re all the same.”
I nod absently. “My brother was supposed to pick me up, but he’s not answering so I’m just… waiting.”
“I get you, honey. Well, this diner will be a damn sight warmer and safer for you to wait. I can’t believe your boyfriend let you leave all by yourself.”
“Yeah,” I murmur. “He was completely out of it.”
The woman tsks to herself as if she’s sucking on her teeth, and less than five minutes later, she pulls up in front of a quiet diner bathed in warm, yellow light.
“Here you are, honey. You hurry on inside, okay? And maybe break up with that boyfriend if he lets you wander like this. Find yourself a real man.”
“I will,” I reply softly as I slip from the car. “Thank you so much for this.”
“My good deed.” She chuckles. “Take care.”
Slipping from the taxi, I stay on the sidewalk as she waves at me and drives off.
Then I hurry into the diner and take the booth farthest in the back so no one from the street can glimpse me.
Everything I know about Bradley has me on edge.
If he’s as powerful as he seems, on top of that team he’s with and everything else going on, then even a random person on the street could end up taking me back to him.
But I won’t go. Not without Peter.
The waitress finds me two minutes later and only sighs obnoxiously when I tell her I have no money but I’m waiting for someone. She brings me a pitcher of lemon water and returns to her counter, glued to her phone.
I mirror her by scrolling through to Peter’s messages and finding nothing but silence.
Where the fuck is he?
Setting my phone down, a napkin ends up between my fingers and I quickly tear it into a thousand tiny pieces to calm the anxiety rampant in my chest.
Where is Peter?
And better than that, why the hell did Bradley fuck me like that?
I’ve slept with enough people in my life to know men only care about getting their dick wet, but even now, my skin tingles with the phantom warmth of Bradley’s mouth and hands, the lingering tingles of his caress and the way he held my hand…
I gaze down at my knuckles and picture his fingers weaving back between the gaps and holding on.
No one’s ever held me like that, or kissed me like that. If I close my eyes and focus, I can still feel his cock inside me, and that mouthwatering warmth leads me to the bathroom where I quickly clean up the damp from between my legs, wash my hands and throat, and attempt to tame my hair.
Fuck. How much longer?
Every minute I spend here waiting for Peter is a minute closer to when Bradley will wake up and come looking for me. He’ll likely find me in no time and I’ll be back to square one, only without a party invite to use for freedom.
A little after the first warm yellows of sunrise creep across the sky, Peter’s text drags me from the half-asleep lull I’ve ended up in. Covering a wide yawn with my hand, I glance at my phone to see a single message from my brother. An address followed by an order to hurry the fuck up.
[Zira] You take this long to text me back and dare tell me to hurry up?
[Peter] Just get here.
I roll my eyes and curse him out under my breath. The chances of finding another kind taxi to take me far without pay are extremely low, which means I need money.
Money that I definitely do not have.
Dishes clatter in the kitchen behind the counter where the waitress busies herself cleaning up and in her absence, my eyes drift to the till near the cake window.
It’s similar to one I worked with at my old job at a grocery store, and if the codes are the same, popping the till should be easy.
But stealing? Oddly, the thought of that gives me more nerves than stealing all those diamonds and my stomach somersaults. Maybe I’ve stolen too much, and my nerves are completely frayed.
Shit.
I need to get to Peter.
Leaving my shoes on the table, I rise from the booth and cautiously creep toward the counter.
I glimpse the waitress through gaps in the door, but she has her back to me and is focused on washing up some dishes.
I creep closer, moving around the counter until I’m behind it, and I keep walking.
The till looks the same. Pressing one hand against the drawer, I quickly type in the old default emergency code and the drawer pops open with a click muffled by my hand preventing it from moving.
Nerves jump up my back, but the clatter from the kitchen doesn’t cease.
Slowly, I relax my fingers against the drawer and allow it to slowly pop open and without stopping to count, I grab handfuls of bills from the drawer and sprint from the diner without looking back.
By the time I make it two blocks over, my heart pounds and pain coils hot in my gut. I keep glancing back, expecting to see the waitress chasing me, but there’s no one. I’m alone on a quiet street with handfuls of money that I quickly stuff into my purse before anyone sees.
Fuck.
How was that more terrifying than anything else I’ve done? I’m losing my edge.
A quick call to a local taxi company gets me a ride ten minutes later, and I relax back in the seat as the car carries me far from the diner and toward the address Peter gave me.
When I get there, I’m giving him a piece of my mind and then I’m persuading him to give up his share of the diamonds.
Surely, these Irish criminals won’t want to kill him if they have their stuff back, right?
It’s only logical.
The taxi pulls up outside an abandoned house thirty minutes later.
I overpay with a handful of bills and scramble from the car, lingering on the sidewalk until the taxi drives away.
The house sags slightly to one side from age, with boarded-up windows and a single rusted railing framing the steps up to the peeling front door.
I walk around the rickety gate as the fence crumbled long ago, stepping gingerly across the stone slabs.
If I get pricked by something, I’m killing my brother. Reaching the door, I knock quickly.
No answer.
I knock again. “Peter? Peter, are you there?”
Still no answer. Pulling out my phone, I double-check the address and then pound my fist on the door as all my anxiety pours into my anger. “Hello? Anyone home?”
Thirty seconds later, the lock clicks and the door creaks open. As soon as it moves, I shove my hand against the weak wood and push it wide open as two Volto masks appear in the doorway.
“Peter! About fucking time!”