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“Open, or I break it down. Don’t piss me off,” he growls into the phone.
My gaze blurs and I bring a shaky hand to the lock. The second he hears the click, he barges in. My feet carry me backward, and I hit a wall, dropping my phone to maintain the firm grasp on my knife, holding it in front of me. He laughs.
“You look good.” He glances to the weapon. “Seriously?”
I do everything I can to calm my nerves. It’s time to focus.
“Look, there was an incident. I need to make it up to him.”
Getting right down to business.
He thinks I’m going to do that? Anger flares inside me. As if this has anything to do with me.
“I don’t fix your problems anymore,” I manage to say, the words coming out much stronger than I feel, but still a little shaky.
“Look, he’s got connections that could ruin my life, Anna.”
He says my name as if his old tricks still work, but I’m not the same person I was back then. A humorless laugh bubbles out of me. He ruined my life without thinking twice. “I don’t see how that’s my problem. Maybe it’s time you reap what you sow.”
“Hey!” he barks, demanding my attention, and he gets it, because my body still stiffens despite years of therapy. “I’m only giving you a heads-up because I felt bad about what happened last time.”
My lower lip quivers. Last time. The first time I got out of rehab, I relapsed after two weeks. Rhys and Micky thought it was because the addiction had overpowered my will, but that’s not true.
“What do you want?” I bite back.
“You have two options. You can help me pay off the debt,” he says calmly. “Or I’ll personally deliver you to his place and you can work it off the old way—one hour of time with him and his friends. If you’re nice, I’ll even throw in some oxy so you don’t have to feel much of it.”
My lip curls. “Get fucked.”
“Fine. You want to keep your sobriety and secrets, then you need to pay up.”
There’s no way. “How much more do you need? How much total?”
He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “A little over fifty.”
“Dollars?”
He shakes his head.
“Fifty thousand?” I screech. “That’s more than half my annual salary!”
Steve shrugs. I imagine flinging my knife at him, seeing it buried in his chest. I want to do it so badly.
“I don’t see how that’s my problem.” He throws my words back at me. “How much is your dignity worth now that you have it all?” He tries to look past me and I sidestep to block his path from looking at my place. I don’t even want him to lay eyes on my things.
“I don’t have that kind of money just laying around. I can’t give you that much at once.”
“Five a week until it’s paid off. Consecutively.”
How the fuck am I going to get five grand a week? “If I do this, I want proof that every image you have of me is deleted.” I’m well aware those images have likely been circulated twice over. Really, all I need is some time to find a way to get some leverage on Steve, but asking for the images to be scrubbed gives me believability.
“Whatever you say. I need that first payment on Friday; if you can’t get it on your own, ask your brother.”
Never. I shake my head. “I need at least an extra week. You’re not giving me enough time, I have to pay my rent.”
He laughs. “This isn’t something you can negotiate, babe. If that money is late, those images are sent to everyone at Kucera Housing—including the founder.”
Rhys.
