3. Savage
3
SAVAGE
Her big brown eyes go fucking wide when she realizes we aren’t the heroes she wants us to be. “No.” She shakes her head like she can change reality by not believing in it. Typical. “No, no, no. You don’t understand!”
Fuck, I hate this part. Normally I don’t give a shit when the targets beg and plead, but they’re usually assholes. Paige might have made some mistakes in her life, but right now she’s just a pretty young woman who’s scared for her fucking life. “It’ll be okay. We’re not going to hurt you. We’re just going to bring you back home so you can get the help you need.”
“It’s not okay! I can’t go back!” She gets a crazed look in her eyes and starts to dash.
Crank grabs her before she can get away. “Let’s get the fuck out of here before they recover enough to give us trouble.”
“Yeah.” I finger the handcuffs hidden at my back but decide against using them. She’s had enough of a scare tonight.
This fucking sucks, but if we don’t bring her in, then it’s just going to be someone else like the fuckers littering the parking lot around us. At least we’ll keep her fucking safe. She’s a sexy little thing, early twenties at most, with dark honey colored hair that shines golden in the light, and a scattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose that I bet she tries to hide. I can count on one hand the number of other hunters I’d trust to not try something. They aren’t all as bad as Eddy and his crew, but quite a few could be convinced to let her go in exchange for services rendered. Or at least tell her they will.
When her bounty came across the online boards, we grabbed it. Seemed quick and easy, and it's been a slow month for official work. Me and the boys were off duty anyway. Runaway junkie with sticky fingers? Easy money. I’ve seen it before. Cops don’t give a shit, so the family gets desperate enough to pay assholes like us to drag their loved ones home. Back to rehab for her tight little ass.
Doesn't feel good, though.
“I should’ve known better than to trust you. Who sent you?” Paige snarls.
Attitude. I like it. “Does it matter?”
“Yeah, it?—”
A gunshot makes everyone freeze, including Eddy and some of his guys who are starting to slink away. Pure instinct has me drawing iron and whirling towards the sound. “What the fuck?”
“Let her go! I called the cops!” yells a balding, white-haired guy with a massive shotgun pointed in the air. Next to him is a young guy in an apron. He was clearing dishes earlier. “I don’t know what the hell is going on, but Sarah has nothing to do with it. Get back into the diner, kid!”
Jesus. The guy's lucky I didn’t shoot his head off. “Do it, she won’t get far. We aren’t here to fuck with civilians.” I whisper to Crank. I slip my piece back into my belt before the old guy notices, then hold my hands up. “We didn’t start the trouble. We’re just here to make sure the lady gets home safe to her family.”
Paige takes a hesitant step towards the back door, and then another, getting just out of reach before she bolts. In seconds she’s around the corner of the building and out of sight.
Motherfucker.
“Poe, you go talk to him, then get the van ready. Crank, with me.”
Fuck, I took a chance on her being more interested in getting safe than in making a break for it. Not gonna let that happen again. She can’t get far, but if she plays her cards right and finds a spot with a lot of witnesses she can make this really fucking awkward.
“Damn, she’s fast,” Crank says with a laugh. “There!” He points down the street.
I see movement. She's sticking close to the buildings and staying out of street lights the best she can. Smart girl.
We sprint after her, closing in. She might be quick, but we’re taller and in better running shape. Well, I am anyway. Crank is more of a bruiser than a marathon guy. I can't help but grin. Fuck, I love the thrill of a chase, even when I know I'm gonna win.
She looks over her shoulder and drops all attempts at stealth, running all out ahead of us. Where does she think she can go and not get caught? I can fucking hear her gasping from here. We're so close.
Paige veers into a driveway and guns it towards the back of the garage. We're right on her heels and she’s got no time to hide. Around the corner, she flies up a wooden staircase, taking the steps two at a time. She gets to the door at the top just as I get to the bottom of the stairs. I get one brief glimpse of her panicked eyes taking in me and Crank, and then the door slams shut behind her. I hear a click and the slide of a deadbolt.
“You're just putting off the inevitable.” I bang on the door. Surprisingly enough, she doesn't open.
“Go away!” she yells through it. “I'm not going with you!”
I hear the scrape of furniture being dragged across the floor, and then the door thunks. Fuck.
“Got a way with the ladies there, buddy,” notes Crank, grinning up at me.
“Oh fuck off.” I knock on the door again. “Paige! I don't wanna fucking break this door down, but I will. We’re not going anywhere. This is for your own good.”
Something slams inside. “For my own good? That’s a laugh. Is it my uncle that sent you? What did he tell you?”
“Look, he cares enough about you that he’s more interested in getting you back than reporting the theft to the police.” Is that true? Who the fuck knows. The listing said she’s a junkie and stole from him, but that doesn’t feel quite right. Gut instinct. There’s no one type of person that gets hooked on drugs. We’re all one bad decision away from fucking up our lives, but if she is, then she’s not deep in it. It shouldn’t matter. We get paid for doing the job, not making judgement calls about it, but somehow it feels like it does.
“That’s a joke! He's just trying to save his own sorry butt!” she yells back. More slamming. What the fuck is she doing in there?
“I'm coming in. Back away from the door.”
“Stay out!”
The door creaks but hardly budges when I slam my shoulder into it. Solid, but not impossible. I slam into it again and the creak gets louder.
Crank rolls his shoulders as he climbs the stairs. “Move.”
“I don’t take fucking orders from you,” I snap.
He snorts and flips me off while giving me the most sarcastic please I’ve ever heard.
We've been friends way too long to pull rank, at least right now. I know he’d throw himself on a grenade without hesitating, but he’s a stubborn motherfucker with very little respect for authority. Besides, he's right. I'm strong, but he’s a force of fucking nature.
“Coming in,” Crank declares, then throws his bulk at the door. It only takes the one hit to make the door split with a loud crack, right down the fucking middle. Behind it, a dresser was pushed into the way, but it’s too small and light to put up any real resistance of its own.
Paige has a lamp in her hands, ready to club us with it.
“Jesus, we're not gonna fucking hurt you.”
“Yeah, right. If you take me back, my blood is on your hands!” Maybe she really is high on something and it’s the paranoia speaking, but there’s no question that her fear is real.
“Put that down, honey. How old are you? Eighteen? Nineteen? I’m sure you’re scared, but we’re just going to keep you from hurting yourself, okay?” I move forward slowly, hands out in the open.
“Please. The best thing you can do for me is to just leave and forget you saw me. I’m not causing any trouble and I’ll be gone tomorrow. How can I convince you to leave me alone? I’ll do anything.”
Crank chuckles. “Anything? You need to think before you speak, girl. You're fucking gorgeous, but we don't work like that. We're professionals.”
“I didn’t mean that !” Her eyes go huge, and for a moment she forgets her fear long enough to be shocked instead. “That's not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?” I look around her little hideout over the garage. It's simple. A cot, a moth-eaten rug, a little table with two rickety wooden chairs. Nothing on the walls or anything to make it look even remotely like anything but what it is, a hideout. Temporary crash space. “Nothing personal, honey, but I don't think you’ve got anything else worth our time.”
She draws a shaky breath and licks her lips, thinking. Meanwhile, I follow the journey of her tongue, storing the fantasy of what she could do with that mouth for later. Just because I’m not low enough to let her sell herself for safety, doesn’t mean I’m made of fucking stone.
Paige stands up straight and puts the lamp down. “Maybe I do. I’m supposed to be a thief, remember? I’ve got money. Let me go and I'll split it with you.” She hesitates. “H—half.”
“That’s cute,” I say with a laugh. “How much you offering? A hundred bucks and free hashbrowns at the diner?”
“Five hundred thousand dollars. Cash.”