Arran’s Obsession (Body Count, #1)

“Of course, she had it coming, the dirty slut,” Mrs B mouthed the last word to another of our neighbours, her yappy white dogs waiting at her feet. “Doing that kind of thing right out in the open where anyone could pass by. Children live here! It’s disgusting.”

I stopped still on the path. Across the road, in the churchyard, a white tent closed off any view of the steps. A guy in a forensics suit exited, snapping off a pair of disposable gloves. They had blood on them.

My friend was dead.

She’d been killed there last night.

In the time it had taken for me to go to the club then return, Cherry had been murdered. The beat cop who stood at the church gates wouldn’t say for certain who the victim was, but no one else hung out there after dark, aside from the occasional group of teenagers smoking weed, and if it had been someone’s kid, there would be news crews. An outcry.

Not the quiet of the police processing the murder scene.

My heart hurt. Cherry had been kind. Funny. She deserved so much better.

“Nice of you to speak ill of the dead,” I bit out to my crazy old bat of a neighbour. “What did she ever do to you?”

Mrs B’s beady gaze shot to me. “Good families live around here, though obviously not yours if you think this is anything but a good thing. What that woman was doing was disgusting. A stain on the street.”

The only stain was her judgement and Cherry’s red blood, but anger and upset held my tongue, and I couldn’t get out another word.

Mrs B drew a look up and down me, her thin lips forming a sneer. “I heard you won’t be here much longer anyway. Good riddance in both cases. It’s nice when the trash takes itself out.”

She turned back to the woman she’d been talking to, and I stomped past, heat painting my cheeks. The other residents of the Crescent might be celebrating, but a good woman had died.

In my flat, I rinsed off the grime of my full shift, dressed, then perched in the window, alone, sad, horrified. The sun set, and cooler night slunk over the city, and I traced over the silhouette of the city buildings, the dark curve of the river, the red-brick warehouse to the right. All the while keeping an eye on the police presence at the church, the uniformed officer on guard, and white-and-blue incident tape across the gates.

Cherry’s wry and kind face appeared in my mind. Alive one minute and gone the next. One of her clients was probably the culprit, and I worked over what she’d told me a couple of nights back. Not much. Damn. She’d been so vibrant. Sharp, too. My eyes welled again, and I dashed away tears.

When we’d first started talking, we had a conversation that stuck in my mind. Cherry asked if I had a boyfriend. I’d said no and told her about my last who had been less than enthusiastic in all things, most of all in bed. She’d asked if he’d still paid good, and I’d laughed.

“Not that kind of boyfriend.”

“He didn’t pay at all? You were ripped off, sweets. All sex is transactional, whether you admit it or not.”

Another time, she’d commented on my coffee and said she liked the super sweet and hot kind, leading to more man jokes. Next time I saw her, I’d brought her a pumpkin spiced latte. In return, she’d made hearts with her hands whenever I passed.

I’d find a way to commemorate Cherry. She deserved nothing less.

Just as I needed solutions to my own problems. I was in the mood for something fucking drastic.

Today, between jobs, I’d taken time to call everyone who might have seen my dad. I’d stopped in at bars and doss houses. Finally spoke to my brother. Riordan knew nothing and had sounded so stressed I’d pulled the punch and told him I’d handle it.

I wanted to talk to him about Cherry but had kept that in, too.

No, tonight was all me, the drive in me to resolve the problems in my life and the small yet burning hurt at what had happened with the gang leader. He’d shown his true colours, and it cut deep.

How the heck did I give him that power? That smallest start of a crush had died a death now.

I took a shaky breath then swallowed back the last of the heavily caffeinated mango energy drink I’d snagged from the fridge. What Arran hadn’t realised in his attempt to make me run was my stubbornness. I was going back to that club, and this time, I was going to explore the other floors. I knew the layout better. I had energy to burn from my pain over Cherry and an axe to bury in the god-awful gangs.

On the horizon, purple night claimed the sky.

It was time.

Thirty minutes later, I hopped from my cab two streets over from the warehouse then slunk down the river to the back of Divine and Divide. A car park spread out, well-lit and packed with vehicles but with enough patches of darkness for me to make it close to the building.

A doorman waited by a much less fancy entrance.

That was it. The way into the staircase that led to where I needed to go. As I watched, a group of men approached and spoke to the doorman. He admitted them with a few words. Damn, that was easy. Just had to fake the same confidence.

Another group approached and were shown in without a problem.

The words of the woman who’d led me back to the office returned. She said there was a game running tonight and an expectation that they’d be busy. I’d been so occupied trying to read the rota that I hadn’t paid attention beyond that. Maybe it was a sport of some kind they could watch while the women entertained them in other ways.

There was nothing left to do but find out.

Like last night, I was dressed for the occasion in my same little black dress, but I’d gone heavier in my makeup. Prettier in my lingerie, just in case.

With my shoulders back, I crossed the distance and presented myself to the man. “I’m here for the game.”

The huge man with a thick neck that bulged over his collar raised his eyebrows then he checked something on his phone. It looked like a photo. “You Natasha?”

I was whoever I needed to be. Faking brightness, I smiled. “That’s me. Natasha. Nice to meet you.”

He huffed in apparent relief and hauled on the door, the effect causing his suit jacket to open. It revealed a leather holster. For a knife? A gun? The movement was too fast for me to be sure, and I snapped my gaze away.

The doorman propelled me inside. “You’re late. You’ve got a few minutes to prepare, that’s it.”

“Traffic was bad,” I lied.

He directed me past the stairs I’d wanted to climb and to another door, plain and sturdy, no window to see in or out. He tapped in a code, and it popped open. “Hurry.”

Inside, another corridor fell away, grey and unadorned. But it was a route in. I’d take it. “Thanks,” I breathed.

“Good luck. You’re the last to arrive. Door’s locking now.”

He closed me in with a thud and a click of metal. Something about his words felt final, and a slither of unease curled around my determination. Yesterday, I’d been able to walk in and walk out unbothered. Even on the floor of the club, I hadn’t felt in any kind of danger despite the clientele the women were there to serve.

Getting locked in the basement felt very different. I turned and stared at the door. No handle. Not even a keyhole. Above, a camera trained on me. I hadn’t noticed them elsewhere in the club but I hadn’t been checking either.

The urge filled me to thump on the door and call the man back, but I’d come too far for retreating. Stifling the panic, I forced myself down the hall, grateful for my dose of caffeine that kept me going.

Around the corner, the corridor opened to a vast expanse. A concrete floor stretched the width of the huge building, pillars supporting a gantry to an upper level, and huge warehouse doors along one of the walls. The kind that lorries could pass in and out to offload goods, or whatever used to happen a century or two ago when this place was built.

Cameras overlooked the space in its shades of grey and industrial white, and bright lights left nothing hidden.

From behind me, a figure skittered out across the floor, a woman in a bandage dress, her feet bare. Carefully, she climbed the metal steps to the gantry then entered a room, not sparing a glance at me.

“Are you the last?” another voice followed, an American, from her accent.

I turned. A woman my age exited a room behind, my glimpse into the space showing sinks and lockers. A bench with towels on.

“I think so,” I answered. My voice came out weak, so I cleared my throat and tried again. “The doorman said he was locking the door. Why would he do that?”

She was already moving away, her brown hair swinging in a high ponytail and her dress tight, like the other woman’s had been. “Didn’t you read the rules? We’re here until it’s over. They won’t open the doors until all of us have been claimed.”

“Wait,” I begged. From my pocket, I pulled out my phone.

The woman’s brown eyes widened, and she hurried back over, her hands out. “What the hell are you doing? You can’t bring a phone in here. Put it in the lockers before someone sees.”

She snatched my wrist and tugged me into the changing room. Opening a locker, she took my phone and placed it inside. “Put your bag in as well. And take that necklace off if you don’t want it broken.”

I obeyed automatically, undoing the simple pendant that once belonged to my mother, the urgency infectious.

“You’re lucky the cameras aren’t on yet. It’s cardinal sin one-oh-one to bring a phone in here.” She stepped back and peered over her shoulder. Like the other woman, she was barefoot.

My sense of unease exploded into a full-on panic, my energy drink rush fuelling a paranoia I was beginning to think real. For some reason, I fixated on that last detail among all the wealth of information. “Where are your shoes?”

The American grinned and hopped on the spot. “Believe me, it’s better to be barefoot. You can run faster. Make it a better game. Really make them chase you down.”

“What am I running from?”

“Oh, that’s good. They are going to eat that sweet and innocent attitude right up. Listen, we’ve got a minute or two before the siren. I need to hide. No point in making this easy. You should do the same.”

“Hide?” I breathed.

“There’s twenty of them to our five. If you make it easy, that’s a fucking waste. Aim for the captain’s office if you’re stuck for a starting place. See you on the other side.”

With a final grin, she was gone.

I’d fucked up.

Certainty rushed with my blood in my veins. Taking a fast breath, I kicked off my shoes and sprinted back down the corridor, thumping on the door. “Let me out,” I yelled. “It’s a mistake. I’m not meant to be here.”

No answer came. No sound but the thrum of my pulse in my ears.

I tried again, yelling at the top of my voice. Still nothing.

A siren pierced the air. My heart all but leapt into my mouth. The time was up. I couldn’t get out. My only chance was to hide.