Sweet Collateral

“Thanks.”

“You okay, boss?”

I sigh and lean my head back against the wall, stretching my legs out. “Yeah.”

“You sure?” Dark eyes search mine, seeing too much, knowing too much. We both know this isn’t the first time I’ve done this.

“She isn’t Violet, Carlos,” I say, agitation riding me hard.

“No.”

“I can’t very well send Nero his collateral, high on drugs and completely broken, can I?”

“Can’t you? That’s how you found her. You didn’t offer a rehab facility.”

“So, you’d have me just dose her up and carry on?”

“Didn’t say that. But she’s pretty fucked up. It’s not your job to save her.” He’s right, but fuck if the idea doesn’t bother me.

“You can go, Carlos.” He turns, shaking his head as he walks away.

Anna’s soft breaths blow over my skin, and if I close my eyes, I can almost remember all the times that this was Violet, clutched in my arms as though I could possibly save her. I couldn’t. Anna reminds me of her; beautiful, but so hopelessly fucking destroyed. It was as if the world was so dark in her eyes, an endless hell with no light, except perhaps in a heroin needle.

But Anna hasn’t fallen that far. She can be fixed. I have to believe that, perhaps I even need to believe it.

I haven’t seen Anna all day, not since I woke up with her in my office and watched as she practically ran away from me. I slept on the damn floor with the girl, and it’s pissing me off. When I made that agreement, this wasn’t in part of it. I shouldn’t care, but I can’t seem to help myself. She hits far too close to home for me, right at my weakest point. It’s a problem.

Carlos pauses in whatever he was saying and glances up at me. “Are you listening to shit I’m saying?” He smirks, readjusting his hood over his ball cap.

“Yeah. Carry on.”

He says nothing for a moment and then clears his throat. “You could always tell the Italian, no.”

“And why the fuck would I do that?”

“You know why. It’s all very well staying out of other people’s business when it comes to dealing girls, but that girl has you on the ropes, man.” He holds his hands up as I glare. “I’m just saying. If she’s fucking with your head, best to get rid.”

“She is not fucking with my head. She’s one girl, and she’s not my damn problem.”

“Ah, Rafe. She is so your problem.” He laughs and pushes up from his chair.

As soon as he’s gone, I groan and leave my office, walking towards the back of the house. When I step outside, the cool evening air helps clear my mind.

I find myself walking towards the pond like a damn homing beacon is calling me there. The sun has dropped below the horizon, streaking the sky in deep blues and hues of gold. Long shadows reach across the carpet of grass in front of me as I approach the circular hedge that encloses the water. I step past the hedge line and pause, lingering in the shadows as I watch her—because I knew she’d be here. She’s staring at the surface of that water as though all of life’s answers are hidden in its black depths. Her long white dress pools on the ground at her feet, making her look innocent and angelic.

“Anna.” She jumps at the sound of her name, eyes darting around until they land on me. Her brows pull together for a moment before she quickly looks away. “You’ve been out here all day,” I say, noting the slightly red tinge to her skin. “Running away?” She snaps her gaze to me and glares. I take a cigar from my pocket. “Are you going to tell me what that was all about last night?”

Silence stretches between us, and I’m sure she’s not going to say anything when she finally speaks. “The nightmares…”

Pity for the little bird settles in my gut, and I can’t help but ask the question that’s burning on the edge of my tongue. “How long were you there?”

She slowly turns her face towards me. “I don’t know.”

“How old are you?”

She stares at the water. “I don’t know.” The girl doesn’t even know how old she is. She’s like a bleeding fucking heart. Shit. I can’t do this with her. I can’t care about her crappy life. Drugs, guns, whores, they’re all parts of a multibillion-dollar business. She is just one girl, a single cog in a monster machine. Irrelevant.

“What you tried to do last night, don’t do it again.” The thought of her on her knees for drugs has bile creeping up the back of my throat. “You’re not a slave here.”

“I’m owned. I am a slave.”

“Right here, right now, you are whatever I say you are,” I snap through clenched teeth.