Sweetest Scars (The Vlasov Bratva #3)

Chapter 1 – Vivian

B leating, electronic notes cut through the sweltering humidity like the crack of a whip. I yelped and nearly tripped. It was just the ringtone on the phone, but my heart shot against my ribs, and air stuck in my chest.

Quit being so jumpy!

It was easy to say, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something out there. They didn’t call it Southern Gothic for nothing; the dark streets were hauntingly beautiful. Which was fine when I was with people but walking alone lent a different flavor to the nocturnal scene.

Shaking my head, I snatched my phone from my pocket, stabbed the button to silence the ringer and read the name on the caller ID. The groan rumbling up my throat helped mute the sudden spike of adrenaline in my veins. I shouldn’t answer. And if there wasn’t the smallest of possibilities that it was work related, then I would have ignored the call.

But Carla was the daughter of my boss, and my co-worker.

The strap on my backpack slid down my left arm. I yanked it up while snapping into the phone, “Yes?”

“Well, hi to you too, chica,” Carla laughed.

Ignoring the fast-fading blaze of colors filling the rapidly darkening sky, I quickened my steps. “What’s up?”

“Do I have a story for you!” she warbled with a thick slur.

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” I protested. “I just finished the Johnson’s 502 place. I hope they have good insurance on the rental.”

“Frat party?”

I groaned. “Yeah, the worst.”

“Well, tomorrow’s your day off and we are going to do something amazing.”

I pressed my tongue into the inside of my cheek. “I don’t know, Carla,” I began to protest. “I might pick up a bartending shift at The Warf.”

“No! No excuses, bitch.”

Great. She was drunk. Her calling people names was a sure sign.

“Tell everyone I say hey, and I’ll talk to you in the morning,” I said firmly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sssooorrrryyy ,” she sang out. “Please, don’t hang up, I never got the chance to tell you the story!”

The streetlight up ahead flickered.

With Carla rambling in my ear, I paused only long enough to double check my surroundings and pull the second strap over my right shoulder. Walking at a good pace, I hustled down the road’s non-existent shoulder. The extremely uneven sidewalk started just across the next four-way stop.

“Thirty coins, Vivian. Can you imagine!”

Her words ripped me from the suffocating atmosphere around me. “Someone did what?”

My feet never stopped moving, even as my mind tried to process what Carla animatedly squealed into the phone.

“Then POOF , the security footage vanished. The lights went out. All the tourists left in a panic, but when they got the lights on, the display case that had authenticated coins had been broken into and thirty rare coins were gone! A theft, here in Blue Coast!” Carla didn’t even stop for a breath. “It’s all anyone is talking about at The Warf tonight. Why don’t you come down here, and we’ll see if we can solve the mystery. The owner of the museum is offering a huge reward. I know for one, I could use that money. But even though I have the brawn, I don’t have my bestie’s brains. So get your sweet ass down here, bitch, and let’s hunt a thief!”

There were no cars at the four-way stop. I rushed across and continued my nightly scramble back to my little house, keeping one eye on the broken slabs of concrete that made up the walk while looking into the dark yards of the lower income neighborhood. The copse of trees buzzed with insects, and there was no knowing what lurked amongst the fan palms, ferns, and other small brush choking the ground.

“I’m almost home, but I’ll see you tomorrow.” The moment the words were out of my mouth, I instantly regretted it. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” I amended.

But it was already too late. “FFFiiiinnneee! Brunch, and then the pier!”

I croaked a protest, but the line went dead.

With a curse, I shoved it back into my pocket. I could still blow her off, but she was the daughter of the owner of the property management company. Since I needed the job, I had to stay in her good graces. Yes, I was one of the best maids they had on their cleanup crew. But I wouldn’t put it past the princess to make my steady stream of income obsolete.

Maybe a day off would be good for me?

I could always play for a bit and then bartend at night if Jimmy had any work for me at The Warf.

Another shake of the head, and I shoved the problem away for later. I needed to focus on my surroundings. The thick, humid air of a Florida night clung to my skin like a wet blanket, each step I took down the sidewalk making me more aware of the oppressive heat. Sweat trickled down my spine, soaking the back of my shirt and forming a slick sheen across my forehead and cheeks. The moist air seemed to wrap around me, making every breath feel heavy and labored as I moved forward.

The thickening darkness only added to my unease. Streetlights cast weak, flickering pools of light that barely pierced the night, leaving long stretches of the sidewalk in shadow. The occasional whine of a mosquito near my ear and the distant, erratic crying of cicadas added an eerie layer to the air. Each call of a hidden bird made my pulse jump, the unfamiliar noises amplifying my nervousness.

The faint scent of wet earth and decaying leaves mixed with the lingering aroma of someone’s distant barbecue, an almost taunting reminder of comfort I couldn’t reach yet. My stomach pinched, ready for the reheated bowl of box pasta.

How the mighty had fallen…. “I will not think of that now,” I ordered myself. No one was controlling me down here. I was free and working my way up in the world. One measly paycheck at a time.

Laughter and riotous music shot down the street. A badly tuned exhaust wailed past me, and the tuner careened around the bend, the boosted bass making the car shake.

The loneliness left in its wake only made me wrap my arms tighter around my torso.

This is the price of independence.

A rough laugh scraped at my throat. “Don’t you mean punishment?”

Behind me, a twig snapped.

I was passing the section of trees that ran a good thirty yards along the side of the road. It was for water runoff, and there were no doubt snakes and big bugs down there. But that sound? That was something larger.

My heart pounded harder. Breathing became a series of gasps. Vision narrowing, I focused on the clear spot ahead. All I had to do was reach the chain link fence. There would be someone on their front porch this time of night who would hear my shout for help.

I could feel my pulse quicken as the shadows around me deepened, every rustle of leaves or creak of branches sending a shiver of unease down my spine.

And then the distinct patter of footfall sounded on the cement.

A sob choked me.

I began to run, even though I knew it was futile. I wasn’t an athlete.

There was someone there. There had to be. This wasn’t my imagination.

Risking a glance over my shoulder, I didn’t see anything.

But I heard it.

This was it. This was how I died.

By some miracle, my feet missed the boobytraps littering the path. But whoever was behind was also running.

No—please no!

The muscles in my thighs burned. With the panic vising my chest, I could only draw in short, ragged breaths. The furious patter of my heart was like a drum proclaiming the impending doom.

A thud followed by the sounds of an object hitting thick meat sounded softly behind me.

There was a strangled cry of pain. But it wasn’t until a short cough barked out that my brain realized I wasn’t being chased. The gurgling and choking broke through my panic.

I slowed, turned—and tripped. Pain shot up my knee, but I was too busy staring into the dark, trying to make sense of the shadows. Was someone actually there? I held my breath to hear better, but my roaring pulse was the loudest sound.

There! That might be something. A large, apish shape clawed at his neck. His whole frame quaked, then swayed. No…it was a tree.

Nothing moved.

Was there anything there? I had to be dreaming.

The bite of pain from pinching my arm was real enough. I frowned, staring into the darkness. No, there was nothing out there.

Except, I could have sworn something moved. The specter was tall and could easily be another tree. But it was thinner than the first. The arms, or branches, extended. The shadows morphed and changed.

I wiped my eyes. There was nothing there. I was seeing things. It was too dark. After a grueling fourteen-hour shift, and not having eaten since this morning, my brain was playing tricks on me. There wasn’t a monster who just killed another that had been chasing me.

Drop—drop—drop.

Something dripped onto the pavement. I focused on that, my brain short-circuiting.

Run!

The single word broke through my shock. Scrambling to my feet, I took off.

The night closed around me like a living thing. I ran for my life. The sense of vulnerability grew with every step. My destination felt miles away, the house I was renting a distant beacon of safety I longed to reach.

My surroundings became a blur of shadow and light, the few porch lights casting grotesque, elongated shapes that seemed to reach out to drag me into the yards I flew past. There was no one to help me.

I was all alone.

Sweat poured down my face, stinging my eyes and blurring my vision. I could taste the salt of it on my lips, mingling with the sour tang of fear that seemed to coat my tongue. The pungent mix of sweat and panic filled my nostrils with every labored breath. Every now and then, a warm breeze would stir the sticky air, offering a fleeting moment of relief before the suffocating humidity closed in again.

But…there were no more footfalls. My imagination didn’t conjure another nightmare. By the time I reached the pool house I was renting from a high school football coach and his beautician wife, the only thing I had to show for my adventure was a severely skinned knee.