Take the Heat

The doctor handed her a prescription.

“Your sister needs to go to rehab,” he said. “But if you can’t afford it, you’ll have to monitor her yourself. It’s going to be tough on both of you.”

Tough? Cassandra wondered if the doctor had any idea. She knew she needed to get Melly out of town, away from the drugs and the men who gave them to her. And away from Aston Moore, the man to whom she owed so much money and who wanted to sell her body to pay off the debt. But Cassandra wasn’t stupid. She was well aware that if she didn’t sort things out before they left, Moore would have them followed. He was a violent man, and Cassandra was all too familiar with his reputation, even though she’d never come across him in person.

Now, though, she had no choice.

“How much do you owe him?” said Cassandra when they were back in the anonymous motel room, a place where Cassandra hoped Moore and his henchmen wouldn’t think of looking for them.

“Stay out of it, Cass,” snapped Melly, tugging her fingers through a tangle in her dirty blonde hair.

“I’ve got savings, Melly,” said Cassandra.

“It won’t be enough,” said Melly. “Nothing will ever be enough for those greedy bastards. It’s my mess, Cass. Please don’t get involved—I don’t want you hurt as well.”

“You don’t get a say in it, Melly. What sort of a sister would I be if I let you carry on…”

“You can’t even say it, can you?”

Melly slammed the door of the bathroom behind her, and Cassandra heard the lock click into place.

* * *

Cassandra was five years older than her sister, Melly, and after their mother had died, she’d stood in for five years of mothering. And apparently she hadn’t done a very good job. So she wasn’t going to let Melly down now.

Aston Moore owned a club downtown, a strip joint or worse, where he hung out with his cronies. Cassandra had never been inside—hell, she didn’t even know anyone who’d been in there. Apart from Melly. She picked her time carefully, just after lunch when the place would be quiet but not totally deserted. She picked what she was wearing even more carefully. She wanted to look tough, though she knew she’d never fool a man like Moore. But the biker boots and the ripped jeans gave her confidence, and the leather jacket was all she could use as a shield. She made up her face with harsh black kohl and dark red lipstick. She needed to be strong.

Before going to the club, she went to the savings bank and withdrew the money she had been squirreling for a rainy day. This was a bloody shit storm, and she couldn’t think of a better way of spending it than helping Melly get her life back.

Cassandra’s heart pounded in her chest as she walked into the dark club. Her blood thundered in her ears louder than the heavy drums and bass blasting out of the speakers at the back of the tiny stage. There was a pole, and a girl in cheap lingerie with mottled, pale skin was gyrating round it, making no attempt to keep time with the music. Most of the customers were sitting in the booths along the wall rather than within touching distance of the stage—apart from two leering older men who both had trails of spittle down their chins.

She pushed her shoulders back and strode up to the bar, where a kid who didn’t appear old enough to drink was polishing glasses with a gray cloth.

“I’m looking for Mr. Moore. Is he here?”

“Depends why you want to see him,” said the boy. “If you’re here about dancing, you’ll need to see the manager, not Mr. Moore.”

“I’m not here about dancing. Like I said, I need to see Mr. Moore.”

“Who’s asking for me?” said a rich baritone from behind Cassandra’s shoulder.

She whipped round, and she knew immediately that she was face-to-face with Aston Moore. He wasn’t a big man, but the strength of his presence was undeniable. The barman melted away, and Cassandra felt herself wilt perceptibly under the glare from Moore’s dark blue eyes. His features were lupine, gaunt and hollow-cheeked. His dark red lips had a cruel twist to them, and his coal-black hair was cut short and peppered with gray.

Cassandra swallowed, but she forced herself to hold his gaze.

“I’m Melly Black’s sister. I understand she owes you a certain amount of money.”

Aston Moore’s lips quivered slightly as he looked her up and down.

“I would never have guessed you two were related,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You look so…wholesome, compared to her.”

Cassandra bit her lip, leaning forward on the balls of her feet. Anger surged through her like a torrent. It was this man’s fault that her sister was a wreck, that Melly would need years of treatment and rehabilitation to get back to the way she was before.

“How much does she owe you?”

“Surely you don’t expect me to know exactly how much each little druggie owes me individually?” he said. “Anyway, we have an arrangement by which she’s working it off.”

“At the same time as building up even more debt. I wasn’t born yesterday, Mr. Moore, so don’t patronize me. I’m here to clean my sister’s slate, so perhaps you could go and look up, or ask whoever you need to, how much it is.”