hand landed on the back of my head, fingers gripping the strands of my hair as he jerked me up to my feet. “I told you not to talk to the kid, Scarlett.” He waved his gun—with his silencer on it—in front of my face. He released my hair and scowled at my messy face. I didn’t realize I was crying until the tears hit my collarbone.
I’d seen death before but … fuck … he’d just been a kid. A scared kid who’d been born into the wrong family. He was innocent. He had been until he wasn’t anything anymore. Whether it was subconscious or deliberate, my gaze avoided the bed. I could still feel the kid’s blood on my arm and it made me feel tainted. Dirty.
Jaxson sighed. “We’ve got the money,” he said. “It’s time to pack it up.”
“You didn’t have to-to kill him!” I burst out, screaming at him. “Why would you—”
My back hit the moldy wallpaper before I realized what was going on. “Shut your fucking mouth, Scarlett,” Jaxson snarled. “The silencer did its job, but if you start screaming—even in this roach motel—people might come asking questions. You spoke to him. I warned you not to. He could have identified you by your voice.”
He’d been talking to—sure it hadn’t been to the kid, but his voice would’ve been distinguishable too. Why did he have to blame it on me? Why did he have to kill? Jaxson’s hand closed around my throat, capturing my attention once more.
“Get cleaned up,” he said, frowning down at the blood on my arm. “Stop crying, and then call the cleaner. We’ll be out of here within the hour. The money’s ours; we didn’t need the kid anymore.”
He released me—as if those words were all I needed to get my ass into gear. “I’m going to take the bags back out to the car,” he said, turning away.
I waited until he slung the two duffle bags we’d brought with us—emergency supplies, money, burners, and all of the other shit we always carried if we could—and headed out of the room before I moved. As soon as the door clanged shut behind him, my unsteady legs carried me back to the bed. Still, I couldn’t look at it. My lips twisted. My fingers shook and after another moment, I lifted my gaze and nearly gagged at the puddle of red beneath the black bag.
Too far, I thought. Jaxson had gone too far this time and whether he realized his wrongdoings or not, he was right about one thing. This was my fault too. I touched the end of the bag and held back a sob. Lifting it, I just wanted to see the kid’s face once. Someone needed to see. And I doubted that his family ever would—not after the cleaner came through here.
My fingers pulled and tugged until the bag was drawn up to the forehead and I nearly sobbed aloud. I wasn’t much older than this kid—half a decade older than his eighteen years. Yet, as I stared down at his open eyes, he looked far younger than I’d ever felt in my life. Far too young to die like this in a place like this.
My knees hit the floor again and this time, I let myself sob. “I’m sorry,” I choked out. “I’m so … sorry.” I’d promised he’d be okay not seconds before the bullet had entered his skull. Jaxson had made me a liar. But not again—never again.
1
Scarlett
New York City, New York
Present Day…
My heels clicked against the floor as I descended the stage, my eyes scanning and assessing. This was only a small building in the Perelli family’s empire, but it was a nice one. Expensive liquor. The smell of Cuban cigars. Women who, no doubt, would charge a pretty penny to spend the evening with their escorts. A place like this merely served to remind me that the world was a dark, cold, and unforgiving place, and only the strong survived well enough to flourish. And flourish I would. This place, for all of its décor, was a playground for women like me.
Filled with marks—one in particular that I had my sights set on.
Eyes tracked my every movement, tracing my limbs from where my red dress split open at the side and revealed the expanse of my thigh up to where the single strap of my thong peeked through. I smiled as I passed and gently, but firmly continued on even when I saw several hands