Menace (Scarlet Scars #1)(7)

She tries to block my hands. “Give you what?”

“You know what.”

“No, I don’t... I don’t know... ugh, what are you...? Get your hands off of me!” she growls, pushing me. “What do you want?”

“My wallet,” I say, grabbing her hands when she tries to push me again. I press her hard against the brick, brushing the tip of my nose to hers as I lean down, smelling a hint of beer on her breath, but it’s not as strong as the scent that clings to her skin. Vanilla. “I know you swiped it.”

“I didn’t—”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” I say, an edge of anger to my voice as it drops low. “It’s cold as f*ck and I’m fresh out of patience, so this isn’t the time to play games. It’s in your best interest to just hand over the wallet before I drag you into an alley and strip-search you for it.”

Her eyes narrow. “You wouldn’t.”

“Just try me. I dare you.”

A second passes. Then another. And another. Her expression shifts, the shock melting away as those bright red lips let out an exasperated sigh. She yanks from my grasp and pushes away from the wall, her chest bumping against me so hard that it forces me to take a step back, giving her room to move. She reaches into her coat, into her dress, and whips my wallet out from somewhere along her bra, holding it up between us. “Fine, you caught me. Happy?”

“Fucking ecstatic.” I snatch it, also grabbing her hand, pulling her toward me. Her sleeve moves up her forearm, exposing a tattoo on her wrist. It’s simple, nothing more than a cursive red ‘S’. “What’s this, huh? Your own little Scarlet Letter? What’s it stand for? Sneaky thieving bitch?”

She rolls her eyes. “Funny. If you’re done manhandling me, *, I’ve got somewhere to be, so I’d appreciate it if you’d, you know...” She motions with her head toward my hand. “...let go.”

I hesitate before loosening my hold, letting her slip from my grasp. I start to say something about how she’s getting off lucky tonight when a car whips around the nearby corner, coming to a stop.

I turn, spotting my BMW, before my attention goes back to the woman. I barely catch a glimpse of her face, a flicker of a smile on her lips, before she’s gone again, running. She turns the corner of an alley, disappearing.

That was easy. Too easy.

She seemed almost amused by it.

My gaze turns to the wallet in my hand. I flip it open, finding the billfold empty. No money.

Son of a bitch.

After all that, she still robbed me.

Nobody does that.

Nobody.

I walk over to the alley and glance down it, but it’s empty. I’m not surprised. She’s long gone, having slipped into a building or climbed a fire escape or ran out the other side.

Shaking my head, I shove the wallet in my pocket, where it belongs, and make the trek to my car. I pause when I cross the street, collecting the pair of red high heels discarded in the slush, left behind in her haste to get away with my money.

“Boss?” Seven calls out, stepping out of the car. “Everything okay?”

Is everything okay? Hell no.

I turn to him as I approach. “Got a job for you, Seven.”

“Yeah?”

“I need you to find someone.”

“Who?”

“A woman,” I say. “About five and a half feet tall. Brown hair. Brown eyes.”

“That describes half the women in New York.”

“Yeah, well, the one I’m looking for is twenty-one or so,” I say. “She’s good-looking, kind of curvy for being so petite... got a red ‘S’ tattooed on her wrist...”

He stares at me, like he expects more information. “What else?”

I shrug, glancing at the high heels, flipping them over to look at the red soles. “She wears a size thirty-nine shoe.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” he says, blinking a few times as he looks at the ground. “Only a couple million people in the city.”

“That’s the spirit,” I say, slapping him on the back. “Now let’s get the hell out of here so my nutsack can start thawing.”

I climb in the passenger seat of the car, the heat blasting me, bringing feeling back into my fingertips. It takes Seven a moment to join me. He climbs in quietly, putting on his seatbelt.

He starts to drive. I can tell something’s on his mind. He fidgets, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, as his eyes flicker all around. I try to ignore it. I try. I do. But I wasn’t kidding when I said I was out of patience, and I don’t like my shadow being distracted.

“Say what you’re thinking,” I tell him, “before I take the wheel and shove you out of my car.”

He instantly stills. “I’m just curious, you know, why you’re looking for this broad.”

“She robbed me.”

His head turns my way so fast that he accidentally swerves into another lane. “She robbed you? How?”

“It doesn’t matter how she did it. All that matters is that she pulled it off. So I need you to find her, so I can do something about it. You got me?”

“Absolutely,” he says. “Just one more question.”