Familiar voices and heavy footsteps clambering up the stairs roused Angel from her deep, dreamless sleep. It took her a moment to remember where she was and what had happened, but she snapped to attention once she regained her bearings. The sun had already begun to set; she’d slept most of the day away. The irritation rebuilt itself as the voices got closer, the sound alone made her grit her teeth.

  As she heard the door unlock, not bothering to get off the couch, she picked the pistol up from where it had fallen to the floor in her sleep and took aim. Truthfully, as tempting as it was, she didn’t want to hurt anyone, but scaring the hell out of them would sate her for now.

  The door swung open and Beau and Dima only made it two steps inside, take out bags in hand, before freezing in their tracks at the sight of their guest.

  Angel smiled brightly and waved with her free hand.

  “Welcome back, guys!” she said, cocking the Beretta and pointing to barrel right between Beau’s eyes. “How’s it going?”

  They dropped their bags and held their hands up in surrender. She was a little disappointed that weren’t putting up a fight. These two were getting sadder and sadder, but she only had so much pity to spare.

  “How long’ve you been out?” Beau asked.

  His resting bitch face had let up, but his voice betrayed how pissed off he really was. Poor Dima looked terrified and more than a little guilty.

  “Since you left. It was a good try. Now unless you want to catch a bullet from your own gun, slide your weapons over to me. Nice and slow.”

  Beau was done. Absolutely defeated, busted by his own hostage, his dignity was justabout gone. Just as she instructed, he slowly pulled his gun from his sweatshirt pocket, setting it on the ground and kicking it across to Angel. With nothing to say, he flopped down on the recliner across from her, seething.

  Angel picked up the piece and right away noticed how light it was. Checking the chamber and magazine and she was gobsmacked to find both empty. She wanted to explode!

  “You dumbasses are gonna get yourselves killed!” she shouted, tossing the empty glock aside. “Should I even ask how long you’ve been at this? How have you even made it this far?”

  Beau didn’t answer, only glaring at her with dead eyes. Dima meekly shrugged.

  “What about you big guy?” she asked him. “Got anything on you?”

  Nodding, he slowly reached into his back pocket, took out her cell phone, and carefully slid it over to her.

  It still worked, no new cracks in the screen and all of her stuff was still there. She sighed and begrudgingly lowered her gun.

  “Thanks.”

  Dima picked up the dropped bags and gave her a nervous grin.

  “A peace offering,” he said. “If you want it.”

  Angel regarded him for a long moment, took a deep breath and moved over to make room for him on the couch

  “Yeah, sure,” she said.

  She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands, Beau soon following her example. A long awkward silence stretched out as Dima set out several boxes of fish and chips on the makeshift table. It smelled salty, greasy and amazing to Angel’s empty stomach, which grumbled loudly to cut through the tense quiet.

  It was hard for her to keep a straight face as everyone’s attention went to her and when she looked back up at them it was all over. The absurdity of the their situation had finally caught up to them and all they could do was laugh. It was still awkward, but it broke the ice.

  “God, what the hell is this?” Angel chuckled and popped open a box, digging in with gusto. “I meet a lot of interesting people, but never like this.”

  Dima blushed as he poured vinegar over his fish, not quite ready to make eye contact with their former captive. She wiped her hand off on her jeans and held it out to him.

  “I’m Angel,” she said. They already let their names slip, so she figured it was fair enough to give them hers. A stage name was good enough.

  “Dmitri. Call me Dima if you like,” he smiled and shook her hand.

  “You’re from Ukraine, yes?”

  “Yes, I was born in Sochi, but I grew up there. How did you guess?”

  “I recognized your accent, my mother is Ukrainian.”

  Her accent was still there and could be heavy at times, but that was something that made her very popular at the club. Men loved to listen to her and would give her large tips just to have her whisper their names in it.

  She looked over to Beau. Neither of them were going to spend the energy to get up and shake. Instead they exchanged polite nods.

  “Beau,” he said and paused before mumbling, “Sorry ‘bout all this.”

  She wasn’t expecting an apology from him, but it was pleasant nonetheless. Even though she wasn’t sure if she was ready to forgive them yet, she couldn’t say that this was the worst situation she’d ever been through. Hell, as she thought back on it, this didn’t break the top five. At least they both seemed genuinely sorry.

  Letting her curiosity get the better of her had never done her any good, but having made it this far, she wanted some context.

  “So, care to tell me what all of this is about?” she asked with her mouth full; table manners were the least of her concern. “No offense, but you guys clearly have no experience when it comes to... ‘handling’ people. Was it about money?”

  She recalled them telling the guy they beat up to “deliver” or something like that. A vague threat that didn’t paint her a whole picture. Both boys were quiet, sharing uneasy looks with each other that made Angel regret asking right away.

  “We were doin’ a friend a favor,” Beau said.

  That wasn’t a reassuring answer, but it told her enough. She couldn’t imagine why anyone would ask a couple two-bit thug wannabes for a favor. They couldn’t even get decent coke to push and this ‘friend’ of theirs wanted them to intimidate someone? There had to be more to it, but given their reaction, she was hesitant to dig deeper.

  “Well, I’d say don’t quit your day job, but with the weak crap you’ve been peddling, I don’t think you’ll last long doing that either. I’d be careful if I were you. Maybe quit before you poison someone.”

  Beau growled and sat up, ready to give her a piece of his mind. If only he could calm down long enough to think of a good comeback. Angel bit her lip and tried not to smirk. He made it too easy to poke at his nerves and get him riled up. It almost wasn’t any fun. Almost.

  “How do you know so much about it?” he asked.

  Angel frowned and thought carefully before she responded. There were things that she didn’t like to think or speak of. In a way, she was an old pro when it came to crap like this and she wasn’t exactly proud of that. Not that she’d ever tell them.

  “I pick things up here and there,” she said.

  “Yeah? Who are you anyway?”

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  “I’m a dancer.”

  Beau scoffed.

  Dima knew better, keeping quiet and focused on his food until the argument was over. Beau had nothing more to say and sat back in his seat, smiling as if he’d won something. Angel wanted to wipe that smile clean off his face, but for the sake of their fragile civility she let it slide.

  “At the very least, start loading your gun,” she huffed, “Just showing it off isn’t going to help you in a real fight.”

  “Not that I’m complaining, but why do you tell us this?” Dima asked, “You’re helping us?”

  Angel shrugged, not really sure herself. These guys weren’t so bad. At least not bad enough that she wanted to see them dead. And she was sure they would be without a little help… or a lot of help.

  “I went through your fridge, you went through my purse, I guess that makes us friends on some level.”

  Beau still looked skeptical, like he was waiting for a catch or for Angel to snap and make a move. He was too skittish for his own good and it was probably a good thing that he wasn’t carrying a loaded weapon.

  “That being said, do you mind giving me a ride home?” Angel asked. “I have no idea where we are.”

  And she wasn’t going to wander around in high heels until she found a bus stop. It was the least they could do.

  “Yeah, I can take you,” Dima said and got up. “You ready?”

  Angel nodded, pocketing her phone and slipping her shoes on as she went to get her bag. Passing a window on her way to the kitchen, she could see a sleek black car pull up at the curb across the street and a few well dressed men stepped out.

  Suddenly the fish and chips weren’t sitting so well with her. ‘Doin’ a friend a favor’, that’s what they said, right? They certainly didn’t look friendly.

  “You know these guys?” she asked, pointing out the window.

  Beau jumped up and ran to the window, peeking out from around the edge.

  “Shit!” he swore under his breath. “Dima lock the door!”

  As he scurried to lock it, Angel went back to the couch, stashed the beretta behind the back cushions and she retook her seat. Beau watched confused, having expected her to run and hide while she still could. She held a finger to her lips. It was unlikely he had the restraint to do so, but, and it was filthy rich coming from her, she needed him to stay quiet.

  Before Dima could turn the latch, a man in a fine suit kicked his way in, cracking the door and not bothering to shut in behind him. An open escape route was too good to be true. The other guys were no where in sight, so Angel assumed they must have been posted at the stairs in case they made a break for it. Maybe he was testing them to see if they’d try.

  “Hey guys,” he said, an icy glare fixed on the boys, “we need to talk.”

  Angel knew this guy’s type all too well, cocky and aggressive, but his presence was more sobering for her than frightening. Which was more than she could say for her new friends, who were already backed up against the wall as the guy got closer.

  He surveyed the room and finally took notice of Angel. His glare melted into a smarmy grin as he checked her out and she didn’t try very hard to mask her sneer when he approached.

  “I don’t recall meeting you before, love,” he said with an accent much like hers. These guys seemed to gravitate towards the Russians. Perhaps that was how Beau hooked up with Dima. “Name’s Vitaly. And you?”

  He held out his hand, palm up, but Angel would be damned if she was going to let the creep kiss her hand. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to resist the temptation to slap him if she let him get his face too close.

  Instead, she took his hand firmly in hers and shook, maintaining perfect eye contact and a small smile that she knew made people squirm. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about him was a little familiar and it was rubbing her the wrong way. A customer from the clubperhaps?

  “Angel, now what’s your business with them?” she asked, cutting right to the chase and not so subtly pulling her hand back.

  Vitaly raised an eyebrow at her directness, his grin wavering for a moment, but it wasn’t enough to throw him off. Beau and Dima began to sweat as their eyes darted back and forth between the two. They already knew how chatty Angel could be and were motioning at her to shut up before she got herself in trouble. She was touched that they were worried about her and she returned the sentiment. Even through the flirting, she could see the malice in Vitaly’s eyes. It wasn’t aimed at her, not yet, but she was still afraid for them to be on the receiving end of it.

  “Nothing that concerns you, Angel. Why don’t you go wait for me outside. I can show you a much better time than them.”

  “No thanks, I’m fine.”

  Her voice was barely level and her smile didn’t reach her eyes as she kept them locked on his. His grin turned back into a frown when he saw that he wasn’t going to get his way and Angel counted it as a win when he stepped back, taking her in properly this time. He couldn’t get a read on her and she could tell by the way his lips and fingers twitched that it was making him just as uncomfortable as she was.

  He wasn’t getting anywhere with her and gave up, turning his attention back to his original targets.

  “Peele still hasn’t delivered,” he told them, “and now the rotten son of a bitch is demanding double what he originally asked for and is threatening to take it to the police if we don’t pay up. I’d say I’m disappointed that you couldn’t even get a simple task like this done, but frankly I’m not surprised.”

  So the bastard did know what kind of small time punks they were when he gave them the job. Damned sadist had set them up to fail. Beau kept his gaze trained on the floor, while Dima was ready to pass out. All of the bravado from that morning had been scared right out of them.

  “But,” Vitaly continued, “we don’t want to give up just yet, so we’ll give you one last chance to redeem yourselves. You have twenty-four hours to bring us Peele’s head, and I’m being generous with the time. If you still can’t manage to do that, we’ll settle for both of yours instead. Sound fair?”

  Who’s we? Angel wondered. Him and his crew?

  This whole thing sounded personal, especially the consequences. He said he was being generous, but if he was giving them that much time, how important could it really be?

  The boys’ knees were shaking as they leaned against the wall for support. Literally backed into a corner, Beau’s near permanent scowl was crumbling as his eyes finally lifted from the ground and up to Angel. He switched from looking at her to the door a few times, signaling her to run while she had the chance. She couldn’t believe that this was the same hard ass who held a gun to her face. The pure desperation in his dark eyes broke her heart.

  “Yeah,” he said, as if he had a choice, “no problem, we’ll get it done.”

  His voice cracking as he spoke was the last straw. Angel couldn’t take it anymore! Beau was a jerk, but there was no way he had it in him to kill someone and Dima was turning green at the thought of it. She still had no idea what this was all about, but she had to do something.

  “That’s a little extreme,” she said. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to give them another chance to get it from Peele before they have to kill him?”

  Vitaly scoffed, not even giving her the respect of acknowledging her now.

  “She your girlfriend or something?” he asked Beau.

  “Hell no!” Angel answered for him in her native tongue, startling him. “I’m asking you if you’ll give them another chance. Yes or no?”

  A guy like Vitaly was typically all talk, but whoever he was, he had enough power to put the fear of God into the boys and she was beginning to sweat too. But she was raised to keep her head up and this guy wasn’t going to change that.

  “Why should I give them one? If they couldn’t convince Peele before, I don’t see how he’ll take them seriously now.”

  The bastard had the nerve to roll his eyes at her. His blatant disrespect and overall shitty attitude was getting under her skin and just like that her filter switched off.

  “I’m just saying, it might be easier this way. Even if they fail, not only do you have to come for them, you’ll still have to take care of Peele too. And it’s clear that you don’t want to get your hands dirty.”

  A chill went through the room as Vitaly’s face darkened. Angel had shot a hole right through his pride and she regretted nothing. The feeling of satisfaction she got from his snarl was worth it.

  “Little bitch!”

  He stalked towards her, but Angel stood her ground. Ignoring her unappreciated common sense, she shot up, standing as straight as she could. She’d be eternally grateful to the heels of her shoes for giving her the extra height she needed to meet him eye-to-eye. He recoiled, not expecting her to literally stand up to him. Taking advantage of his stunned silence, she spoke:

  “Just one more chance to get you what you need and I’ll bring it to you myself. Please.”

  She slowly moved her hand to rest on the back of the couch as she waited for Vitaly to answer. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that, but if it did, she prayed that she was a quicker draw than he was.

  He watched her carefully and even as her hands started to tremble she never looked away. All of the warning bells and voices of reason in her head were telling her to run, but after all the shit she talked, her damned pride kept her in place.

  With the attention off of them, Dima was slowly getting the feeling back in his legs and poising himself to jump. He stood a head taller than most men and Vitaly was no exception. If he weren’t so soft, he’d be a real force to be reckoned with. But when the situation called for it, his back bone straightened right out. Beau saw his friend move and pulled him back, shaking his head. They were already in enough trouble. Angel was sticking her neck out for them, but it would be for nothing if he got them all shot right there.

  Vitaly considered her offer and the outrage on his face smoothed back out into his smug facade.

  “So you’ll bring it to me yourself, huh?” he asked.

  Angel already regretted her words, but it was too late to take it back now.

  “Yeah,” she sighed, “I’ll hand deliver it in person.”

  And she had a horrible foreboding that it wouldn’t be the last time she had to see his obnoxious face.

  Adequately satisfied, Vitaly reached into his jacket, making the others flinch, and pulled out a business card and a pen. He scribbled on the backside and handed it to Angel.

  “Here, my personal cell number. Call me anytime.”

  It was her turn to roll her eyes.

  “Smooth. Now if we’re done, let us get to work. I’m sure you’ve got more important things than us to waste your time on.”

  Vitaly didn’t even spare the boys a final glance.

  “Twenty-four hours,” he said and strode out as abruptly as he had entered.

  They held their breath as they listened to his steps go down the stairs and didn’t let it go until they heard the car speed off.

  Angel let herself drop back onto the couch, leaning forward to put her head between her legs and taking deep breaths as she tried to process the shit storm she had just drafted herself into.

  Beau and Dima didn’t dare say a word as she sat up and glared at them.

  “What the fuck did you two do?”