Page 71 of Freckles

“For you to bother another girl?”

The light dulls in his eyes, smile transforming into a hard line. A tiny wriggle of joy burrows into my belly at the evidence of his irritation. At him being denied something he wants.

Nice to have the shoe on the other foot for a change.

Although, when he removes his hands and my body clamours in disappointment, I can’t imagine it staying that way for long.

CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE

KINCAID

Another weekend,another man trussed with ropes and full of excuses. This time, I’m in a private investigator’s waiting room, collecting an overdue debt.

Back when I started working solo jobs for my uncle, debt collection was exciting. Now the assignments are a reminder I haven’t progressed the way I once hoped.

The grubby downtown office has aircon so hot and humid, the tatty wallpaper peels from the walls. As the man struggles against his bonds, sweat drips from his forehead. “I swear, the money was in there. My assistant deposited it on Tuesday.”

My knuckles are already covered with bruises. Rather than punch his face again, I upend him and whack a belt across the bare soles of his feet, making him grunt and writhe. Serves him right for thinking the digital equivalent of ‘the cheque is in the mail’ is going to fly.

“You want to give me an honest answer this time?”

“Please… just let me go and I’ll check the transfer. See if there’s a digit missing.”

“And what’s your plan if there is? You can’t get the money back if you’ve made a mistake. The bank guidelines are clear on that.” I squat in front of him and my knees pop like firecrackers, making him flinch. “Or are you suggesting you have more funds squirrelled away and just like having your head kicked in?”

“No… I…” His eyes close and his muscles sag, the movement so smooth I almost mistake it as genuine, then catch the wince as I shift position.

“Stay alert.” I grab a hank of his hair and tug until his glazed eyes stare back at me. “You don’t want to miss some key piece of information by snoozing at the wrong time.”

I strap him again, three times—whack, whack, whack—before standing back. His scream is lackadaisical compared to his initial efforts, soon descending into grunts of pain.

“You’re the one choosing this, remember?” I strike him again, a blow that has him writhing against his bonds.

“Please man, just listen. I’ve got a big job on, surveying a mean prick who’s up to his eyeballs in criminal activities without the wherewithal to cover his tracks. I’m about to blow it wide open and it’ll be worth so much money it’ll make your uncle seem destitute.”

Inwardly, I roll my eyes.These guys.

They always have a big job that’s about to yield dividends.

A big job. A tipoff. A sure bet.

“I’m here now, arsehole. Not next week.” When he looks set to argue, I flex my biceps and snap the belt.

“There’s some gold,” he says in between pants, finally getting to the point we were always heading. “Jewellery. In the safe.”

He struggles to swallow, and I sympathise with how dry his mouth must be getting. I’m parched and I didn’t have a greasy rag shoved in his gob for a good twenty minutes.

The whites of his eyes show for a second as he genuinely passes out, and I lightly slap him awake.

“Jewellery,” I say as a reminder.

“From my ex-wife. I cleared the house out of everything I could before the divorce. Must be twenty, thirty grand in there. I’ll give you the passcode if you confirm that’ll make us even.”

I bark out a laugh. Even in his current state, he’s so accustomed to being the boss and giving orders, he thinks he’s calling the shots. “The passcode?”

“Yeah. It might even be worth as much as forty.” His eyes are eager, gleaming with hope.

“Which translates to four or five when we cash it. Not much of a dent in your total but I could take it as an interest payment.”

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