Chapter 5
Chapter Five
He looks at me with cold, wolf-like eyes. Sharp. Feral.
The three men beside him remove their skull masks too. But they’re nothing more than fuzzy silhouettes to me. All my focus is on the mysterious, tattooed stranger. How did he find out where I was? Did he look for me? I don’t understand.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him, my voice tight.
One of the other men, much older, clad in black, glances between us. “You two know each other?”
The tattooed man shrugs. “Never seen her before. Don’t know who she is.”
The words slice through me, swift and brutal. My heart stutters. I rip my gaze away and fix it on my father instead, ignoring the burn in my chest.
“I—I tried calling you,” my father stammers, snapping me out of my daze. He takes a hesitant step toward me, but one of the men clamps a rough hand on his shoulder, stopping him cold.
“Well, isn’t this a surprise?” The man shoves my father aside and strides toward me, towering over everyone in the room. His presence is suffocating, even more menacing than Trouble. My father grunts as he collides with the wall.
I don’t think this has anything to do with Trouble and me.
“Oh fuck,” I whisper, my eyes darting between the man and my father.
The man smirks, his lips curling with amusement. “You must be Lucky.” He drops the words like a stone, one by one.
“I don’t answer to Lucky. It’s Lo… Marlowe.” Every muscle in my body tightens as I force myself to stand tall, fighting the urge to run. “Who are you? And why are you here?”
He steps closer, his sheer size sucking all the air from the room. I inch back, pressing against the wall, but there’s nowhere to go.
He laughs. A low, dark sound that makes my skin crawl. Then he reaches behind his back. Trouble’s sharp inhale makes my head snap to him. His jaw flexes, his eyes burning into me, but he doesn’t say a word.
The man pulls something out and lifts his arms.
It’s a fucking gun.
Pointed directly at my head.
“You have questions. I have questions,” the man says.
Heat flares across my chest, rushing through my veins like wildfire. My spine presses tighter against the wall, as if I could disappear into it. “Q-questions?” I stammer, barely able to hear my own voice over the pounding of my heart.
"Yeah, questions," he sneers, shifting the weapon as he speaks. "Like, where is my motherfucking money?" His intimidating glare rakes over me from my head to my toes as if he’s—
Oh my God.
I look down.
I’m not dressed.
I ran down the stairs, went outside, and walked into the bakery wearing nothing but a tank top and my underwear. Cold horror snakes up my spine. I cross my arms over my chest, desperate to cover myself.
But he just laughs.
Then, he presses the gun against the bare skin of my collarbone and shoves my hands away.
Terror roots me to the spot.
He trails the cold muzzle of the gun over my skin, dragging it in a slow, cruel sweep over the swell of my breasts, circling over a nipple, and pushing against the thin fabric. My fists clench at my sides, shame and fury twisting in my gut.
“I don’t know anything about your money,” I grind out, my voice steady despite the fire raging inside me.
Taylor’s high-pitched yelp shatters the moment. Every head snaps toward her as she stumbles into the room, mouth stretched wide. Henry is right behind her, face drained of color. My heart lurches into my throat.
“What’s happening?” she gasps.
“Nothing,” I snap, my nails biting into my palms. “Taylor, go back upstairs.”
The man with the gun chuckles, his smirk twisting into something far more sinister. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he drawls. “Join us, Taylor. And bring your friend too.” His gaze lingers on her, dark and hungry. It sends chills slithering down my spine.
She runs to Vick and links her arm through his, as if he could somehow save her.
The man shifts his attention to my father, gliding the gun lazily between me and Taylor. “These your daughters, Vick?”
My father flinches. His hands tremble at his sides, but he forces a nod. “Yeah, yeah,” he stammers, pointing a shaky finger at me. “That’s Lucky. This is . . . this is her place. Like I said, I’m just visiting.”
My stomach churns. He brought these men here? “Dad, what’s going on?” I demand.
“Your old man here owes me some money.”
Ice seeps into my veins. My father is in debt to a man with a gun, and now he’s here. I see. I breathe out slowly, fighting the quiver in my bottom lip. “Your money isn’t here. There’s nothing in that safe.”
He cocks his head, arching his eyebrows skeptically.
I raise my hands slowly, palms out, and take a cautious step forward. The gun follows me, unwavering. “Whoa,” I say, keeping my voice calm. “I’m just going to open the safe and show you.”
Sliding between the four men, I risk a glance at him. Trouble. His glare sheers through me with pure hatred. It carves me hollow inside. I rip my gaze away and focus on the safe. My fingers tremble as I press in the code. I miss a number. Three fast beeps pierce the air. Loud. Jarring.
A sharp jab from the barrel of the gun digs into my shoulder, urging me to do it again. “Sorry, my fingers are shaking,” I mumble.
I try again. This time, I get it right, and the safe door swings open.
I’m instantly shoved aside, stumbling backward into Trouble’s chest. Strong hands clamp onto my shoulders, steadying me. My breath catches as I look up, but his eyes aren’t looking back at me. They’re locked onto the empty safe.
Wow. Okay.
“Keep a hold on her, Damian,” the man orders, and the grip on my shoulders tightens.
His name is Damian. My heart pounds so hard I’m sure everybody in this room can hear it slamming against my rib cage. Everywhere Damian’s gloved fingers touch my skin, electricity pulses. I can’t separate the way he’s touching me now from the way he touched me last night.
It’s a dizzying tornado of emotional whiplash.
“Hey, look, man, I got nothing to do with any of this,” Henry stammers, raising his hands. His body slides along the wall, inching closer to the open door. “I’m just gonna go and—”
“You’re not going anywhere,” the man with the gun interrupts, swinging the barrel toward him. His voice is ice cold. “Who are you to this family?”
Henry stills. “I—I’m nobody. I just hooked up with her.” He gestures toward Taylor.
The man’s expression flickers with something sharp, something volatile. His eyes narrow. “You fucked one of them?” He leans back slightly, like the thought unsettles him.
Damian’s grip tightens around me. My pulse stutters. Why would he react like that? Why would any of them react like that?
What the fuck is happening here?
Henry shakes his head frantically. “I don’t know either of them. I swear, man, I got nothing to do with this. I won’t say anything to anyone. Just let me go.”
My jaw drops. What a fucking coward.
“Which. One. Did. You. Fuck?”
Henry stops moving. His lips tremble. “T-Taylor,” he whispers. “B-but please, don’t kill me.”
The man lowers the gun.
A flicker of light.
Then a deafening crack.
The sound hits me like a slap, stealing the breath from my lungs. I jolt back, ears ringing, mind struggling to process what just happened. The air fills with a sharp, acrid scent.
Henry slides down the wall. His eyes go wide, mouth falling open in a silent scream. Bright red blood spreads over the crotch of his pants and my knees give out. A thick latex-clad hand slaps over my mouth, pressing me back, stifling my cry. He just shot Henry in the—
The man with the gun laughs, the sound crazy and wild. “How about now? You still want to live now?” His sharp voice rises above the static crackling in my ears.
Henry clutches at the front of his pants, face ghostly white. His chest heaves, breath coming in short, broken sobs. “My dick! My dick!”
He screams it over and over again.
Until another crack explodes through the air.
Then, silence crashes down, leaving a hollow, ringing quiet.
Damian’s hand falls from my mouth, but his arm shifts, wrapping across my chest like a seat belt. My body locks tight, panic threading through my veins like ice. “Oh my God,” I whisper, voice trembling. I’ve never seen someone die before.
Henry’s head is still upright. He looks like he’s just sitting there, frozen, his eyes vacant, his forehead a gaping, crimson hole. My stomach twists violently. A moment ago, Henry was a person—a thinking, breathing, feeling person.
Now, he’s just . . . a sitting sack of flesh.
The nausea rolls up hard and fast. Behind him, the wall is splattered with thick red blood. “Oh my God.” Each word is a punch in my gut.
The man clears his throat and smiles. “Now,” he says with a lick of his lips, “let’s get back to my money. Where the fuck is it?”
My father grimaces. His eyes flick nervously between Joel and me. “Joel . . . Joel . . . look. My girls are good girls. You got this all wrong. I . . . maybe . . .”
His feverish gaze locks onto mine. “Lucky, you got some money here, right? You always have something for me.”
The nausea rises so fast it clamps my throat like a fist. I swallow hard, my breath coming short and sharp. “Dad, what . . . what are you doing? I told you . . . I told you all my money is wrapped up in this bakery.”
My father gives me a pleading smile. “Come on, kid. You were always my lucky charm.”
My mind races. I could ask for an advance at the casino. Go to the kitchen manager, tell him there’s been an emergency. “Maybe . . . maybe I can get an advance on my paycheck.” My voice is tight as I force myself to meet Joel’s eyes. “How much does he owe you?”
“Five hundred.”
I exhale. Okay, five hundred dollars, I can . . .
“Thousand.”
The floor tilts beneath me.
“Five hundred thousand?” My head snaps toward my father. “You think I have that kind of money?”
His expression shifts. Desperate, calculating. “What about your inheritance? From my mother?”
My stomach turns to ice. What the fuck?
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” My voice wavers between fury and disbelief.
“Her life insurance policy was for twenty grand, Vick. Fifteen of that went to bury her because you never showed up to deal with it.” I wrestle against Damian’s grip and shove away him, my pulse hammering.
“The rest of it went into renting the bakery! And giving money to you every time your bets didn’t pay off! ”
Joel lets out a slow chuckle, amused, then pushes the muzzle of the gun against my father’s temple.
A strangled noise catches in my throat. My body shakes with the force of too many emotions. Anger. Terror. Disbelief. But I don’t want him to die. I don’t want anyone else to die.
Joel presses his ugly face in closer. “So, where’s my money, Vick?”
My father stammers, his hands shaking, eyes darting around the room like an animal caught in a trap.
“I told you. I have it. I do. I swear.” Slowly, he lifts his trembling hand and nudges the gun away from his head.
“Look . . . I told you, Joel, I was just visiting my kid. Lucky’s opening the bakery.
I’m just moral support. That’s all. I don’t know why you followed me all the way here. ”
Moral support? Is that why he and Taylor were here? Some warped, backhanded attempt at being there for me?
Joel snorts. “Because when I asked you for the money, you ran real quick, Vick.” He taps the gun against my father’s nose with each word, his voice a quiet, deadly whisper. “And when you run, I send the boys.”
Damian is one of Joel’s boys.
Listen, Angel, in all seriousness, I’m not the kind of guy you should want any part of. His warning from last night slithers through my skull, tangling around my throat. My bowels squeeze violently. I might actually throw up.
I steal a quick glance around the room. Taylor’s cheeks are streaked with mascara, her breath coming in short, hiccuping gasps.
Damian and the other men look completely at ease, leaning against walls and furniture like they belong here.
One of them is even sprawled in my office chair, long legs propped up on my desk, ankles crossed.
A crowbar balances lazily on his knees, his attention locked on his phone like this is the most boring night of his life.
My father lets out a nervous chuckle. “W-w-why don’t I just go back home and get it for you?
” He flashes a wide, easy smile. “This is all just a big misunderstanding. You’ll see.
” Then he looks at me. His eyes gleam with something unsettling before he winks, as if that’s supposed to reassure me.
“I have the money at my place,” he adds smoothly.
“Lucky, you remember Big Dom’s place, right?
I’m staying in his trailer in Paradise Park. It’s real nice.”
For a second, my shoulders loosen. Could this really be a mistake?
My father is a very charismatic man when he wants to be, though, very charming when he wants you to believe something.
But he couldn’t be lying about this. It’s too much money.
Leading them here couldn’t have been his plan.
I have to hope so. That’s all I can do. I have to believe what he says.
Then why had he been calling me for money?
The thought needles its way into my mind, prickling at the base of my skull.
I push it down. Now isn’t the time. He just needs to take these men far away from me.
He can get them their money, and I’ll pretend none of this ever happened.
I’ll open the bakery, block his number, and never answer another call from him again.
I force myself to steady my breathing.
The only problem is the dead body.
My eyes drift to Henry’s lifeless stare. Did he have a mother waiting for him? A sister?
“I have the money at my place,” my father continues, rubbing his hands together like he’s working out a plan. “Back in Vegas.” He nods eagerly. “I’ll go back, get it, bring it to you. You could even stay here. Lucky—she’s a great cook. Homemade stuff, real good.”
Joel tips his head back and laughs. Loud and cruel. His foot kicks into Henry’s body, and it slides stiffly to the left, blocking the bottom of the doorway. I gag.
My father forces a chuckle, trying to keep the mood light. “Come on, Joel. I’m good for the money.”
“If you were good for the money, we wouldn’t be in this shithole.” Joel sweeps his arm around the room in disgust then snaps the gun back toward me.
Dread settles deep in my bones. I’m not ready to die.
“She’s getting the money,” he says, his voice smooth, almost amused.
“She’ll bring it to me.” The muzzle of the gun lifts to my chin.
Cold steel presses into my skin. My vision wavers, eyes blurring with tears.
Joel leans in closer, his smirk curdled like milk.
“And if she doesn’t…” His voice dips to a deadly whisper. “I’m killing all of you.”