Kings of Chaos (Dirty Broken Savages #1)(16)
“We’re not working together,” Gage cuts in. “She’s going to make up for killing some fucker outside our club by killing Ivan for us. That’s it.”
I grimace, catching the girl’s gaze and chuckling. “He’s grumpy tonight. But the point is, it’s a win-win.”
It’s not quite a win for anyone yet, actually, since there’s still a chance Gage could change his mind and end her right here and now. A long moment stretches by, and I wait to see what he’ll do.
Finally, he lowers the gun, and the tension in the room eases up a little.
“You’re free to go,” he says, jerking his head at the door.
7
RIVER
FREE TO GO.
The words bounce around in my head like they’re searching for a place to land and not having much luck.
The four men are all looking at me like they’re waiting for me to leave, but there’s an uneasy feeling in my gut. I’m suspicious as fuck, because I know guys like this don’t just capture people and then let them go out of nowhere. Yeah, the flirty one smoothed things over, but the leader, Gage or whatever, still looks like he’d rather shoot me in the face than let me leave this house in one piece. His full lips are pressed into a hard line, and he doesn’t blink as he holds his gaze on me.
At least he’s not pointing the gun right between my eyes anymore.
Well, whatever. They said I can go, so I do, shrugging Four Eyes’ hand off my arm with more force than necessary and marching past them toward the door that leads out of the room.
I don’t want to turn my back on them, because it probably wouldn’t be out of character for them to shoot me in the back as soon as I take my eyes off them, but I’ve never been one to overthink shit.
It’s a waste of time.
Their house is massive, and it takes a little while for me to find my way to the front door of their big ass house. None of them follow me, either to help show me the way or take it all back with a ‘gotcha’ and a gun to the face.
I yank the door open and step out into the weak early morning light. After spending the last however long in their basement, the cool morning air on my face and skin feels good as fuck, and I tip my head back, breathing it in. Birds are chirping in their nests up the trees, and the grass is all damp with that morning mist. It’s not the first time I’ve dragged my ass home just after dawn, and it probably won’t be the last.
But fuck, what a night. I remember getting dressed in my little apartment, planning out how the night was going to go, but nothing could have prepared me for what really happened. I didn’t expect to spend the night in their fucking basement, chained up and interrogated and flirted with by a bunch of dangerous psychos.
I need a shower and to fall face first into my bed, but first, I have to get out of this weirdly posh ass neighborhood they live in.
I have no idea where I am, since I was out of it when they dragged me here, so I just pick a direction and start walking that way, assuming it’ll lead me to a main road eventually.
No one comes running after me. No gunshots ring out or anything, so I finally breathe a little sigh of relief. I did it. I got out of there.
Not the way I thought I would, but whatever. If they want to think I’m hunting down Ivan St. James for them, then they can think that. Doesn’t change the point of my mission.
Once I hit a bigger, less residential street, I manage to hail a cab, and the guy pulls up to a stop and eyes me warily.
I know I look like shit. My face is bloody and bruised, and my wrists and hands look like I got in a fight with something sharp and didn’t win.
He doesn’t try to kick me out, and I ignore his looks and just settle into the back seat after I give him my address. I don’t give a fuck about what he thinks of what I look like. His job is just to get me home.
I roll the window down and fish a cigarette out of the little bag I kept tucked in my cleavage since this dress doesn’t exactly have pockets. Perks of having big tits.
The cabbie doesn’t like the smoking either, and he gives me a look in the rearview mirror that makes him seem like a disapproving dad or something.
But he doesn’t say anything, so neither do I. I blow a cloud of smoke out the window, watching the trees and buildings whiz by as he drives.
Eventually, the unfamiliar territory changes to the stuff I recognize. The shitty package store on the corner. The group of guys who always stand at the bus stop, arguing in loud-ass voices about a poker game from the night before. The motel that definitely is a front for prostitution and who knows what else.
I lean back in the seat even more, tapping ash off the end of my cigarette out the window and letting more of that tension seep out of me. Being back on my own turf feels good. It feels like I have more control.
We pull up to my shitty apartment building, and I hand the guy enough for the ride and a little extra as a tip. He zooms the fuck out of the parking lot like he can’t wait to be away from me and this place, and I snort, not blaming him.
I drop the butt of my cigarette on the pavement and stomp it out before heading up to the building.
It really is a piece of shit. From the outside, it looks like some kind of rundown old factory or something, all cracked brick and stone. Maybe it used to be nice, but now it’s just another place for weirdos and crooks to hide out.