Arran’s Obsession (Body Count, #1)

From the shadowed cemetery across the road from my flat, I concealed myself behind an old stone wall and watched the two men at my door. Sweat trickled down my back, from fear, but also the hot August night, a heatwave blanketing the city.

“Sweets, this is my spot. Move your ass on,” a voice ordered from behind me.

I jumped and spun around.

On the steps of the church, a woman fixed the hem of her ultra-short dress. Her gaze narrowed on me, then she huffed, her pink bobbed hair swinging. “Oh, it’s you. What the fuck are you doing out here dressed like that? Thought you were turning tricks.”

I returned my gaze to the Victorian crescent of flats that curved inwards around the hill, pretty from the outside with neat stonework and windows that overlooked the centre of town below, but that reeked of mould and with walls that shook.

The flat I shared with my dad and brother was halfway along, at the top of the building. The whole place should’ve been condemned fifty years ago. Maybe that’s what the strangers were here to do.

“I went for a run.” I explained my sports bra and shorty shorts. The half-drunk bottle of iced coffee in my hand. “Cherry, did you see those men arrive?”

The sex worker neared, the fruity scent of her e-cigarette preceding her. Together, we watched the upstairs hall window, my flat entrance visible beyond.

They were thugs, definitely. Thick-necked and dressed in black. Probably not burglars considering they were knocking and not booting in the door. No one was home, so they were shit out of luck if they were after money.

“Sketchy as,” Cherry decided. “Don’t go up there. Your dad home?”

I shook my head, and strands of my blonde ponytail caught on my sweaty neck. “I haven’t seen him in a week.”

One of the men thumped on the door again, the sound ricocheting in the heavy night air and across the rows of houses that descended the hill.

Cherry shifted beside me. She’d owned this patch for as long as I’d lived here, though caught shade from more than one of my neighbours for her work. After one particularly shitty comment from Mrs B in the flat below ours, I’d made a point of asking Cherry her name then chatted with her whenever I passed. I didn’t envy what she did for a living but bet your ass she outearned my food courier job.

A job I’d be late for if the men didn’t leave soon.

“They were outside half an hour ago. I don’t usually miss a thing but I had a client. One of your neighbours must’ve let them in the street door. Probably that daft cow with the little dogs and the stick up her ass.”

The second of the goons stooped and collected a piece of paper from a briefcase. He pinned it to my door.

Cherry hissed and jabbed her vape towards the street. “Bailiffs. See the red writing? That’s an eviction notice. I should know, I’ve seen my share. Your old man’s been stiffing the rent.”

My stomach twisted with anxiety. Every month, Riordan and I paid Dad enough money to cover the bills. The government did, too, with disability benefits. Keeping a roof over our heads was vital—we’d been homeless once.

“He can’t have. He’s…”

“Run off with the cash. You said yourself he’s MIA. Come on.”

I swore, earning a throaty chuckle from the woman at my side. Surely Dad hadn’t done that. He went on benders with some frequency but he always came back.

My phone chimed in the pocket of my tight shorts where it was wedged uncomfortably with my keys. I pulled it out and sat cross-legged behind a tombstone beside the graveyard’s mossy path, hiding the light in case the men somehow spotted me, then silenced the chime—my work alarm. I’d already done a six-hour shift over lunchtime and was due to head back out for the late-evening slot. If I couldn’t get into the flat, I’d be doing it without a shower and in my skimpy running clothes.

Not ideal for a job that took me in and out of busy restaurants then to customer’s homes. I was asking for trouble.

Paging over to my phone app, I called Dad. No answer, just like every other time I’d rung him in the past week. Then I tried Riordan. My brother’s phone rang out, no answerphone. Jerk. I tapped out a message to him.

Genevieve: Some men have stuck an eviction notice on our door. Have you seen Dad?

No reply came.

“For fuck’s sake,” Cherry cursed. She swiped at a line of liquid running down her inside thigh then flicked it into the bushes. “Last guy came like an elephant.”

Gross. I gave her a sympathetic grimace, my stomach curdling. “Make sure you don’t get knocked up with a baby elephant. I hear pregnancy’s a bitch.”

She snickered. “Don’t sweat it. Even if I did, elephant guy’s a city councillor. He can afford the bill.” Her amusement dimmed, something darker tugging her lips down. “He’ll be back on the weekend, recharged. Said he’d bring a friend. Not so keen on that one.”

My sweat cooled on my skin. “Do you ever get scared of your clients?”

“Cute that you’re worried. It’s almost always lonely old boys. They all want the same thing, and it isn’t my blood. It’s better for me this way. I won’t belong to one of the gangs.”

Fuck the gangs.

The sounds of the city seemed to get louder, the overtone ramping up my fear of the bailiffs and of losing our flat. From the city centre below our hill, horns blared from the cars that flowed with red taillights like blood through arterial streets. Shouts came from rowdy folk on a course for the nightclubs and bars.

The aura of the bad men who ran the place permeated everything, their threat to slice into an urban vein ever present.

I loved the city but despised the gangs with my whole heart. They’d cost me too much for the blind eye they expected from everyone else.

Twisting off my bottle cap, I chugged the last of my coffee, warm now, but still a dose of caffeine. The bailiffs were leaning back on the wall, chatting and definitely not budging, and I couldn’t turn up late to my job, which meant I needed to move it or lose it.

As I stood, I touched my gaze on the line of cars parked outside. My brother’s old Rover was wedged into a spot, which meant Riordan was out on his motorbike tonight.

There was something draped over his seat. His leather jacket?

If it was here, that meant he was out biking in the city in his shirtsleeves, the idiot. But it also gave me an opportunity. I took a breath and fished out my keys. I didn’t have a licence, but my brother had given me a few lessons. He could damn well loan me his jacket until the early hours.

“Cherry,” I whispered. “Could you do me a favour? See that dark-blue car? It’s my brother’s.”

“That boy’s hot as fuck.”

I shuddered, ignoring that. “I need his jacket to wear to work, and it’s on the car seat, but I’m worried those men might somehow know who I am if they look down.”

She brightened and stood taller, a hint of pride in her smile as if no one ever asked her for a favour that wasn’t at the cost of her body. “I’ll fetch it. Which window should I break?”

I burst out with a laugh and held up the keys. “Use these?”

She sauntered to the graveyard’s exit and over the road. In a minute, my pink-haired friend had the coat and was back, handing it over with my keys. “Here you go.”

“God. You’re a lifesaver. I owe you.”

“You don’t, sweets. It’s just nice to have someone smile when they pass me and not turn up their nose. You’re kinder to me than most. Means a lot.”

Drawing on the leathers, I tucked my fair hair underneath and checked the time again then swore. “Got to go. Stay safe.”

“Always do.”

Cherry blew me a kiss, and I hustled down the road, heading for the busy street at the end. It led down the hill and into town, and just a couple of minutes’ walk away, had the side street lock-up where I’d collect a scooter and helmet for work.

I’d get into my shift then try calling my brother again so he could help me find Dad. Eviction would be a nightmare for both of us. The thought sickened me.

At the end of the street, next to the old church, I peered back, catching movement in the graveyard amid its stones which poked up like broken teeth. Cherry with a man. One of her old boys by his grey cap of hair. She took his hand and guided him away, maybe to blow him on her church steps. Or fuck him.

Wrinkling my nose, I looked away and stuck in my in-ear headphones, a song playing to start my night. ‘Girls Like You’ by The Naked and Famous.

Weird choice, phone.

I stepped onto the main road, lines of shops either side but most closed for the night, still with neon lights in the window. Despite the music, the need to hurry to work, my mind was still in the graveyard. Any one of those assholes could end Cherry’s life with a snap of her neck or his hands around her throat. Any one of them could⁠—

Brakes squealed. Bright lights bore down on me.

Solid, hot metal smacked into me and sent me skidding across the tarmac road. Coasting on the leather jacket’s ribbed shoulder, I slithered to a stop against the kerb, my headphones popping out in the crash.

Holy shit.

Dazed and in shock, I sat up, one hand to my thigh which had caught the road. It came away sticky with my blood.

A car door opened. “Fucking hell,” a low voice bit out.

I raised my gaze to the driver climbing from his huge black vehicle, one hand to his upper arm, and his dark-blond hair falling in his eyes.

Steam rose from the grille.

Oh God. I’d walked straight out in front of a car. An expensive one. Perhaps even injured the driver from the way he held himself. I had to find my feet and fucking run.

But the moment I was lifting, he was on me in long strides, and I was going nowhere.