It couldn’t have been any worse. Angel paced wildly around the apartment, muttering and cursing and lamenting what she’d done to deserve this. Her mouth, her pride, and her bleeding heart conscience were trying to get her killed!

  Beau had the decency to hang his head in shame, his fiery temper fizzled out, though it was mostly to avoid facing her. He wasn’t sure who he should be more afraid of now; her or Vitaly. Dima, was doing his best to slowly move to the other side of the room and as far away from Angel as he could get. At least out of swinging distance.

  Abruptly, she stopped and turned on her heels to face them.

  “Sit!” she ordered and pointed at the couch.

  They scurried to their seats and watched as she resumed her pacing. She needed to reign herself in and calm down before she was ready to deal with this mess. And if that meant letting them stew in their own fear for a little bit longer, that was fine by her.

  A few more minutes had passed when she decided they’d had enough and took her place in front of them, her arms crossed and her glare lethal.

  “What the hell is going on?” she asked. “What did you idiots get yourselves into? And don’t you dare hold out on me.”

  There was no need to beat around the bush anymore and there wasn’t any doubt in Beau’s mind that she would kill them before Louis could if they tried to hide anything. Dima still couldn’t force himself to look at Angel, so he would have to take the lead.

  “We owe Vitaly some money,” he said, wringing his wrists as he struggled to keep his voice level. “He helped us out with some stuff and we got behind on our payments.”

  “He’s a loan shark? Great. Fucking great. How much?”

  “Twelve grand.”

  “Christ on a stick! So he said he’d forgive the debt if you did him a favor, is that right?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Angel’s head was spinning. What a fucking cliche. Antsy, angry energy was zapping through her like an electric current. Every single one of her nerves felt like it would burst into flames. It physically hurt to be still. Even standing there, her foot tapped rapidly as she tried to figure this out.

  Her life and her pride were both on the line and they would both be too painful to lose. She wanted to get it over and done with as quickly as possible, not only to save their skins, but so she could rub it in that smug bastard Vitaly’s face when she did.

  “So, Peele? Who is he? What does Vitaly want from him?”

  “He said he hired him to get information for his boss,” Beau spoke up, finding his voice at last, “but now he won’t give it to ‘em. Vitaly said he’d erase our debt if we roughed him up and got him to hand it over.”

  Angel scoffed. It figured that loser wasn’t really the boss. He wouldn’t be wasting his time talking to them directly if he was. Jumping from small time intimidation to murder wasn’t a big stretch, but he was being lazy and a goddamn sadist. A grunt pushing his work onto other grunts and setting them up to fail. If he was as powerful as he liked to present himself as, making Peele hand over whatever he had shouldn’t have been a problem. Now he was using them to play with his food. Even if they got what the needed from Peele, Angel had a sinking feeling that he wouldn’t live long after that anyway. She still wasn’t sure about their own fates either.

  But she could cross that bridge when she got there. Fretting about it now wasn’t going to do them any good. First they needed to find Peele. If they had to hold a gun to his head to get the job done, then so be it. She wouldn’t mind taking a few pot shots at the guy herself.

  “So, what all did you get on this guy? What do you know about him?” she asked.

  “We followed him for a few days,” Dima said. “He spends a lot of time in the red light district with his friends. A lot of time. So we jumped him when he split off from his group.”

  Well, they were making some of the right moves. A solid schedule would be helpful. They needed to corner him again, but he’d be watching his back a lot more carefully on the streets after their first little ‘talk’.

  “Anywhere in particular he spends a lot of time?”

  “He’s in and out of clubs almost every night,” Beau grumbled as he recalled the sleepless nights they’d spent tailing the guy. “Sundown to sunrise.”

  A real party animal, huh?

  Angel had seen guys blow their kids college funds on women and booze, no wonder this guy was trying to get more money out of his deal. This might be easier than she thought.

  “Maybe I know him. He ever go to a club called La Pearle?” she asked

  “Yeah, a few times.”

  And that’s what she wanted to hear.

  She may not have recognized him earlier, what with his face bleeding, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t seen him before. After a while, under the stage lights, everyone starts to look the same.

  “ I don’t suppose you have a picture?”

  Beau and Dima took out their phones and pulled up a photo of Peele. A shitty side profile shots but it was better than nothing. She still couldn’t be sure if she’d seen him, he was so plain looking. Maybe she’d catch a break with one of the other dancers.

  She took Beau’s phone with her own and video called the one girl she knew she could count on; Star.

  Star had been with the club for years, longer than anyone else who danced there. She was the most popular and personable girl there, and she knew everything about all of their regulars. If Peele had been to La Pearle like Beau said, she’d know him.

  A few rings and a lovely red haired woman with a terrible case of bedhead popped up on screen, exhausted and unamused.

  “This had better be good,” she rasped.

  “Nice to see you too,” Angel deadpanned, “Your shift starts in an hour anyway, be grateful for the wake up call.”

  “Uh-huh. What do you want?”

  “I need some help. Do you recognize this guy?”

  She held Beau’s phone up to hers, hoping the photo was coming through okay, and gave Star a moment to look it over. Soon enough, she came back fully to her senses and snapped her fingers.

  “Yeah! He’s uh… Thursdays/Sundays, like clockwork. He and those other creeps should be there in a couple hours. Brown liquor and shit tips ’til dawn.”

  “Creeps?”

  “They get too handsy and don’t like being told ‘no’. That fucker is the worst of the whole lot.”

  A faint smile graced Angel’s face, sending a chill down the boys spines as heavy shroud of impending doom hung over their heads like an anvil.

  “Sounds like a real jerk,” she said, keeping her fingers crossed for the juicy details Star had ready to spill.

  “He’s such an ass. Last Sunday, he groped Crystal really hard, left a fuckin’ bruise. She would’ve clawed his eyes out if his friends hadn’t pulled him out of there. Pervy shithead. And he’s always trying to take someone home. He’s desperate! Guess his wife’s not putting out for him and I wouldn’t blame her one bit.”

  “Wife?”

  “I’ve seen the ring when he tries to hide it in his wallet. He’s not exactly subtle.”

  The rope holding that anvil snapped as Angel’s smile grew into an unsettling grin. Things were finally looking up.

  “If you can do me a favor, I can promise that this dick won’t be bothering you again,” she said.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Star gained a little smile of her own, but eyed her friend warily. She could see the boys lingering behind her, just barely on the screen.

  “Are you in any trouble?” she whispered.

  Angel was grateful to have a good, very intuitive, friend, but for now she needed to cover their asses.

  “Nah, I’m just helping a couple of friends out.”

  She wouldn’t have bought that for a second and if Star didn’t either, than she didn’t say anything. It would have to do for now.

  “What’d you have in mind?” she asked.

  “Nothing big. When he comes in tonight bring him to me in one of the VIP rooms. I’m not supposed to be working tonight, but I need to sneak me and my friends in.”

  “That sounds sketchy as hell, but I’m in. What’re you gonna do?”

  “I’ll text you the details in a bit. I owe you. Big.”

  “Damn right you do.”

  The call ended and Angel tossed Beau’s phone back to him. They didn’t have much time, but she could work with that.

  “Get your shit, load your guns, and meet me in the car,” she said and was out the door in three long strides.

  They were quick to comply, taking whatever they deemed necessary and rushed to catch up. Unlike last time, the ride was eerily quiet save for Angel occasionally giving directions back to La Pearle and a brief stop at a pawn shop. Angel was in and out in two minutes with a polaroid camera and neither of the guys dared to rock the boat by asking any questions yet. Sure she talked a good game, but they couldn’t help but harbor some doubt. They had only known each other for a few hours and despite their newly forced camaraderie, there was no trust

  Dima was resigned to their fate, ready to ask “How high?” if Angel said to jump. He wanted this nightmare to be over so he and Beau could get back to business as usual with as little blood on their hands as possible. They’d never be able to make it up to her if they succeeded. Beau, on the other hand, was wary of their new ‘friend’. She a bit too comfortable with this nightmare she’d been sucked into and the ease with which she’d handled it made him nervous.

  Angel slouched in the back seat, keeping her head down while she messaged back and forth with Star. She took deep breaths and tried to clear her mind as they pulled up behind the club. She wanted to lash out, yell, break something, but she pushed it down. Maybe when it was all over, if they lived to tell the tale, she’d bust their headlights. They probably didn’t work anyway.

  Angel went in first through the service entrance and signaled the guys to follow when the coast was clear. It was the quickest way to get to the private rooms without passing the dressing rooms. The bouncers would all be up at the front this time of night and thanks to their tightwad manager, none of the security cameras hadn’t worked since the Clinton Administration, so they didn’t have to worry about this catching up to them later either. No muss, no fuss, no witnesses. There was a strict ‘no men allowed’ rule back stage and Angel would never earn her friends’ trust back if they were caught.

  Star had snagged them room #6, the room furthest from the main stage, and Angel prayed that they wouldn’t have to make a mess.The room wasn’t that impressive, not in comparison to the ritzier clubs. Two poles were planted in the middle on the room, moderately comfortable chairs sat scattered around under the harsh and gaudy neon lights that gave everyone headaches instead of setting the mood. The key to their plan was the floor length two way mirrors. Besides the aesthetic, the mirrors served as a hidden door for the girls to go in and out of, as well as a place for the manager to check and make sure everyone was doing their job and not enjoying themselves too much.

  Angel tossed the camera to Beau and began rearranging one of the chairs to face the mirrors.

  “Listen closely, this should be easy enough to pull off, but you need to do exactly as I say,” she instructed, “You two wait on the other side of the mirror. The minute he gets here, start taking pictures, as many as you can, and don’t stop until I tell you to come in. I’m going to try to get this over with as quickly as possible, but I need you to be on point in case Peele tries to run or get physical. I’ll make sure to lock the door when he gets in.”

  “What… what exactly are you going to do?” Dima asked hesitantly.

  “We’re gonna make it look like Star and I are blowing him. Well, I’m gonna make out with him a little. Star’s gonna be between his legs. We’re gonna need as much ammo as we can make.”

  Beau nearly dropped the camera.

  “Wait! What?”

  Angel laughed at their incredulous faces as she pulled off her shirt and slid out of her pants.

  “Relax, she’s not really gonna do it,” she said and tossed Dima her clothes, “hold these please.”

  His face lit up like a firework as he averted his eyes. Even Beau was speechless.

  “I’ve got it angled so the photos won’t show Star’s face, I’d rather take that one for the team myself. Once we’ve got him in position, the photos should be convincing enough. If he’s really married, that’ll be all we need.”

  Angel had lost count of how many angry wives had come storming in to look for their man, or seen them keying cars and slashing tires in the parking lot. Hell hath no fury like a wife jilted by her dirtbag husband.

  She gave the room a quick once over and passed her purse to Dima.

  “And now we- oh, wait, I almost forgot.”

  She reached back into her bag and unraveled her phone cord, handing it to Beau.

  “What’s this for?”

  “Last resort. If we can’t make him give it up, then, unfortunately, we’ll be out of options.”

  She could hear the wheels turning in Beau’s head until he finally realized what she meant.

  “You want me to strangle him with your charger?” he asked, his voice amusingly shrill.

  “Don’t worry, it’s easy. Just wrap the ends around your hands a couple of times and then-

  “That’s not the issue! Why do I need to strangle him?”

  “Well someone’ll have to, and I don’t think Dima has the guts to do it! No offense big guy.”

  Dima waved her off.

  “None taken,” he said, clearly relieved.

  “We have to bring Vitaly something. If you can’t do it then keep it close and give it to me. Hopefully things will play out our way and it won’t come to that, but I’d like to have a plan B.”

  “Wouldn’t shootin’ him be easier? Less… personal?”

  Beau tried to hide his shaking hands by shoving them in their pockets with the cord. He wasn’t squeamish, but he’d never had to kill before. Agonizingly stressful couldn’t even begin to describe the weight of that burden.

  “While it would be less personal, it would also be a lot messier. The music out there is loud enough to cover a struggle, but I’m not so sure about a gun shot. Not to mention we’d have to mop up any splatter and that’ll take hours that we don’t have.”

  Beau couldn’t take it anymore. There were a million questions racing through his mind, all fighting to make their way out first and he couldn’t hold back anymore. With his life already on the line, there wasn’t anything left for him to lose by fishing for some answers.

  “You’ve given this a lot of thought,” he said.

  Not a question, but bait for the hook.

  Angel glared at him, but there was no real malice this time. Beau was more astute than she would have given him credit for.

  “Yeah, and I’d rather not give it anymore.”

  It wasn’t enough though. Beau wasn’t backing down that easily.

  “Have you ever killed someone before?” he asked.

  Angel’s glare faded and she bit her lip.

  “Angel?” he pressed.

  “… once on accident, twice on purpose,” she confessed with a shrug, though she wasn’t about to go into any details about those few times.

  A chill went through the room and right up the guys’ spines as they watched Angel nonchalantly checking her appearance in the mirror.

  “Are you… are you being serious?” Dima asked shakily. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Why would I lie about that? It’s not that big a deal.”

  Angel was aware that she was majorly downplaying it, but she hadn’t expected them to believe her. The way the color had drained from their faces proved her wrong. Once again, her mouth was causing trouble and she rued the day that she learned how to talk.

  Even so, she was telling the truth. To her it really wasn’t a big deal. Not anymore. It wasn’t something she was necessarily proud of, but she never let it bother her either.

  “What do you mean ‘not that big a deal’?!” Beau shouted.

  “Look, forget I said anything, it doesn’t matter now and I don’t want to talk about it! We’re running out of time-”

  “No! Seriously, what gives?” he demanded. “Who are you?”

  Dima tried to reel his friend back in before he pissed Angel off even more, but found himself nodding in agreement. The questions were out in the air now, there was no taking them back.

  Angel sighed. They weren’t going to drop it until she gave them something. As much as she wanted to knock him on his ass and remind him who was in charge here, she was relieved that Beau could have a little backbone when pushed. There was only so much she felt comfortable telling. Preferably nothing. But trust went both ways. If that was what it was took to get theirs and make them listen, she had to throw them a bone.

  “I- my family… shit.”

  It had been so long since she’d given any thought to her past before she came to America, much less spoken about it. She didn’t think the words would feel so strange in her mouth, or be so hard to push out.

  “My family was involved with some people,” she started, “It was a long time ago.”

  Not long enough.

  “My parents ran a few stores that were fronts for money laundering, among other things. I grew up around a lot of unsavory stuff. You learn to cope.”

  She was holding back the other ninety-nine-percent of the story, but all the same, it was completely true. She’d grown up around shady business her whole life and was taught early on how to handle herself and, most importantly, how to get her way in that kind of world.

  “You mean you’re, uh…” Dima snapped his fingers as he tried to find the word, “uh, connections?”

  “Connected?”

  He nodded.

  “Not anymore and hopefully never again.”

  “How come?” Beau asked.

  “How come you ask so many questions?” Angel shot back. “Look, my parents got arrested for their part in the scheme. Dad’s in prison doing thirty years, Mom ran off to God-knows-where, and I got out while I still could. So I’d like to get this unpleasantness over with so I can get back under the radar.”

  That wasn’t even a tenth of what she had under her belt, but they’d have to take it or leave it. Every word she overshared fueled the burning anxiety that was eating a whole in her stomach.

  Dima, bless his non-confrontational heart, was satisfied enough for the time being and ready to focus on the task at hand. Beau, however, still regarded her skeptically and Angel could tell he was chomping at the bit to press further. While his perceptiveness was a refreshing change from the temperamental hard-case she’d had the misfortune of running into, she’d have to be careful around him.

  Saved by the bell, Angel’s phone chimed with a message from Star.

  five mins. be ready ;)

  “Oh thank God,” she muttered. “Get in place. Move it!”

  The guys ducked back behind the mirrors and fumbled into position. Angel bit back another sigh and tried to shake herself loose. It wasn’t like she’d be dancing, but she needed to psyche herself up. She ran her thumbs across her rough palms, calloused from years of working the pole and strengthening her hands and arms. If worse came to worse, pulling a garrote wouldn’t be that hard.