Sell My Soul (Sixty Days 1)

“Think that’s true about the snitches?” I asked, pretty sure that I did.

She bit her lip. Managed a nod.

I waited for her to speak again. She leaned in close before she did.

“I went back to Rebecca’s place early this morning. I let myself in to say sorry. To say that I got it. To say we were sisters and I was on her side, no matter what.”

My heart jumped to my throat, empathy screaming.

“And she wasn’t there?” I prompted.

She wiped away the tears before they fell. “I’m so scared, Paige. So fucking scared. Maybe she’s run off, but I think…”

“You think what?” I pushed. “You think they’ve taken her? That he’s taken her?”

She didn’t bother wiping away the next tears, just turned her face away from the people at the next table. “Her handbag was there, Paige, tossed down under the kitchen table. She’d never leave without her bag, not in a million years. It’s her favourite thing in the universe. Designer.”

“Maybe she thought better of taking it wherever she was headed?” I countered, clutching at straws. “Maybe she left in a hurry? Maybe she’ll be back before you know it, brandishing a whole armful of new handbags, hey?”

I reached my hand over to hers and squeezed it.

My attempts at playing down her worry didn’t do shit. Her eyes were every bit as terrified as they met with mine and held on tight.

“What do I do?” she asked. “Wait? Call the police? Try to get hold of that sick freak myself and find out what the hell’s going on?”

“For now you wait,” I said in a flash. “Even the police wouldn’t do shit for a few days. Maybe she’ll turn back up just fine.”

“He’ll be in touch with you,” she commented, and I got it. I got it in a heartbeat.

“I don’t know how to reach him…” I told her. “I don’t even know his name…”

She dropped her head. “I’m a wreck,” she said. “Jesus Christ, Paige, I hope you’re thinking better of this shit. How did she even get caught up in this? How could she?”

Another bout of empathy slammed in hard.

“She’ll be ok,” I said, as much for me as for her. “You’re sisters. You’ll make it through together. Just hang in tight.”

“Twenty-four hours.” She sighed and struggled for composure. “I’ll give it twenty-four hours before I go to the police.”

I nodded. “If I hear anything from him, I’ll ask the question, I promise.”

She picked up her bag. “Thanks, Paige. I’m gonna drop by her place again now, see if I can see anything.”

“Want me to come?”

She shook her head. “Go to lessons, I might need notes.”

I faked a smile. “I’ll do my best.”

I wanted to tell her about my night. About taking his belt until I lost my mind. About my own sister and her own crazy shit. About everything.

But I didn’t. Not today.

“I’m right here,” I said, and pulled her into a hug. “Whatever you need, I’m right here. She’ll be fine, I know it.”

I prayed on my soul I was telling the truth.

“Make sure your notes are good for me,” she said, and pulled away.

“Keep me updated,” I said, and let her go.

Watching her leave was a challenge that made the ripples of gossip around me fade into oblivion, but I had bigger challenges still to come.

I checked the three grand in cash was still in place at the bottom of my college bag before I got to my feet, hating how I’d had to take it with me to safeguard it from my sister.

She had a habit. Just a habit. A horrible habit that could be broken.

I’d bail her out of the scene just fine. Pay off her debts without problem. Check her into a decent rehab and set us up in a whole new life.

All I needed was sixty days.

All I needed was him.

I was about to leave the table when my phone buzzed.

I hoped it was Carolyn saying she’d heard from Rebecca, panic over, but it wasn’t.

It was from Phoebe.

Tonight at ten. Warren Road. Alley at the back of the garages. I said you’ll have money with you.

I picked up my bag and made my way to my next lecture.

After all, I had Carolyn’s course notes to think about.Chapter Twenty-NineBrandonI went through our clients. Scoped out our case histories one by one, revisiting the connections. Earmarking every single link I knew back to Drake and his nefarious ties to fuck knows what, where and fucking who.

And there were plenty of them, even now.

I couldn’t ignore the fucking obvious. The sonofabitch was still all in, the veins of his influence running right through the bones of our operation.

My game plan needed careful consideration and a whole fucking lot of it. Getting him out of the equation would need time. Time, focus, and a fuck ton of cunning.