Chapter 7 Convict Jumping out of bed, I stumbled on the walking boot I hadn't taken off overnight and nearly fell. On the overhead cameras, a man was in the doorway of Mila's room. She'd almost been caught talking to me, which meant I'd put her in danger. I snatched up my shirt and tugged it on. But by the time I locked eyes on the screen again, she had someone else in with her and the man was gone. The newcomer was a woman. No, a girl. If I was working the door of Divide, our nightclub, I'd ID her as she didn't even pass for eighteen, despite her makeup, tight black dress, and heels. Mila approached her cautiously. I turned the sound back on the camera feed, my blood cooling rapidly and the strange moment we'd shared fading away. "...said we weren't supposed to talk," the younger woman was saying. "Fuck him. Will you tell me your name? I'm Mila," my lass said. The girl gave a shaky response I couldn't hear. The door behind them opened again, and a third woman entered. With her chin high, she smirked at Mila and waved with her fingertips. Mila stared at her. "Esther?" "Babe! No names, remember?" "Right, God, why are you here?" "I figured what the hell. You're doing it, and I could use the extra money. You only live once, right?" Her gaze slid over Mila. "Plus, maybe I wanted to see if you'd go through with it." "But why⁠-?" "Joking! Chill out." Esther crossed the room to a cracked mirror on the far wall and checked her appearance, straightening her pigtails of brunette hair. At a guess, I put her a little older than Mila, though from her getup, trying to appear younger. The camera was positioned in the very top corner of the room, above the window I'd used to get inside. It used the light and gave an excellent view of this unexpected meet-up. Esther started a conversation, a one-sided complaint about the price of rent in the city, with Mila and the girl barely getting a word in edgeways. My phone buzzed with a message. Tyler: Manny said you were looking for me. I'm back but not for long. Come to the office for a catch-up? I replied that I'd come down. For now, Mila was okay, even if taking my eyes off her felt like the worst decision in the world. I left the tablet on my bed. Oddly, I didn't want to share the video with Tyler, as if it was mine only to view, and regardless of the fact he'd set up the surveillance. Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ FindNøvᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The skeleton crew's office door was open on my arrival. At the desk, Tyler raised his head. "How are you feeling?" I shrugged. "Never better." It was true. Last night, I'd scaled a building. If I'd hurt myself in doing so, my body wouldn't be working today. It was doing all I asked of it, therefore I was good. Without delay, I launched into the debrief Tyler wanted. "The woman's name is Mila. Nicely spoken, comes from money, though she's trying to hide it." "What makes you think that?" I thought about it. "Her clothes and her confidence. She has that self-assured vibe of someone from a privileged background." "It's not an act? Money can come from many sources." I caught his drift. "She's not a sex worker, and my gut tells me to believe her when she says she's not on the side of the people who own that place." Tyler stared. "What do you mean, 'she says'?" "I spoke to her." "How?" "I broke into her room. Well, technically, she let me in." Tyler rubbed the spot between his eyes. "Fucking hell, Con. If I thought you were ready to go out into the field, I would have given you more warning. Backup as a minimum." "Why? I didn't need it." "You could have. The guy she's associated with, Salter, has history with the Four Milers. Since that gang blew up, nearly taking you with them, the stragglers and leftovers are scrabbling for new homes. Lesser collectives are forming and failing every week, blood spilled and grievances aired in that power vacuum. They are out there, and they know your face. It only takes for one of them to recognise you and game over." I shrugged. "Or, I fake-join their new crew." "No. Not happening. Enough people know you're back with us and have been welcomed in. They'll kill you for revenge." Tyler braced his hands behind his head of dark-blond hair as if I'd stressed him out, then he exhaled and rested his elbows on the desk. "I won't try to micromanage you, but I saw what Arran did to you when he was flipping out over Genevieve, and I fucking hated it." "Did to me?" I repeated his words, veering dangerously close to revealing how little I knew. "Aye. He regrets it. We all do for not stopping him. Let's not have you die before he can grovel to your face. Just be careful, okay?" Odd emotion crawled through me, almost as unpleasant as the idea of finding out too much about my past. I didn't deserve their care. "I'll keep watch and let you know if your man shows up," I promised Tyler. I couldn't swear not to return. In fact, I practically ran back upstairs, as much as my boot would allow, then I sat and watched the last ten minutes of Mila's conversation, split screening it with the live view so I didn't miss a thing. I couldn't tear myself away from her. Just like I'd confessed, the sound of her voice alone did strange things to my heart. And elsewhere. A fourth woman had shown up in the time I was away, her long, braided hair held in a high ponytail that swished when she moved. Everyone in that room was dressed in some form of revealing clothing, though not overtly sexual like the women in the brothel. Mila's legs were bare with her hoodie long enough to make it appear like she had nothing on underneath. The one she'd named Esther had black shorts and a tight cropped top with her belly exposed, and the newer woman a long-sleeved minidress that skimmed her thighs. The youngster's black dress was the most revealing, something Esther kept side-eyeing with obvious irritation. I couldn't work it out. If they were selling themselves, why not go all out? Getting comfortable on my bed, I listened in to their chat. Esther was talking, again, but a lull came in the conversation, and the teenager spoke up. "How do you like your men?" Mila tilted her head. "What do you mean?" "It's why we're here," the girl practically whispered. "I've been thinking about the money we'll get and the fact they'll get to do whatever they please. If the guys want us to be in lingerie, what's the equivalent for them if the roles were reversed? What do you like your man to be in?" Esther snorted. "Prison." The woman with braids smirked. "Concrete shoes and the bottom of a lake." Esther shoved her, and they both cackled. The girl dropped her head. Mila nudged her. "You mean what do I find attractive?" The girl nodded. Esther cut in again. "Men can wear lingerie. Like Tom Holland's lip-sync battle where he sang 'Umbrella'. That was hot as fuck, but if you're thinking we're going to meet sweet guys doing this shit, you're fucking deluded." She muttered something about dumb bitches her mother would slap sense into and rolled her eyes. Mila ignored her and kept her focus on the girl, her expression kinder than Esther's. "Let me see, what do I like? A dark-grey shirt, rolled-up sleeves to show tattooed arms, and open a few buttons at the neck. Worn-over jeans to show he isn't flashy. Add a piece of rough jewellery like a leather bracelet and I'm deceased." The girl brightened. "I like that. My boyfriend always, I mean, he..." She clammed up, and though I could only see the side of her face, I guessed her to have reddened. But it was Mila's reaction to her that intrigued me. Her expression turned serious as if she was worried about the kid. She should be, considering where they were and the people around them. Yet another reason to believe my fantasy woman wasn't on Team Trafficker. I watched for a while longer, texting Tyler so he was aware that this was ramping up. Four women, one with some kind of plan, one scared, one needing money, and something to do with men who'd have power over them. Nothing about this felt good. A message dinged on my phone. Shade: One of the last two applicants for the game is coming in for his interview this evening. Last minute, but better than nothing. He's all yours. Shit. I had to carry out that interview. My crew came first, even if it meant spending more time away from watching Mila. I replied that I'd be there, and Shade gave me a one-hour countdown. I made another choice. I had to see Mila again. If I didn't, I'd go crazy. But something slowed my steps. Not Tyler's warning to stay out of trouble. Not the fear of people I might run into, not now my strength was returning hard. It was a trip to the wardrobe Dixie had mentioned by the strip club. I needed to change my shirt.