Page 10 of The Kingpin's Call Girl

“That’s right,” I say. “Be loyal, be straight with me, be forthcoming, and I’ll make you a fucking prince. Cross me, hide information from me, and you’ll see just how dark a man can go.”

Ghost nods.

It’s too late for the men I’m hunting—I’ll kill them no matter what they do—but for everyone else in the clan, it’s true. Don’t give me a reason to kill you, and I won’t kill you. Simple.

The two men I’m hunting aren’t here at the table. Orton and I are pretty sure of that. A couple of them are just too young, and the rest we’ve ruled out, but they may know something that leads me to them.

Not that I can ask them outright; nobody needs to know why Orton, Storm, and I have come to town. Nobody needs to know our intention.

Never show your hand. Ever.

The little hooker sits there, secretly raging on in her personal little maelstrom. What is it now? Has she realized she’s shown too much of herself?

That scorn, though. And the tattoo thing. And how much she clearly hates us. But it’s more than that. There’s a primness to her like she’s truly innocent.

Innocence.

Please.

Everybody has their price, and everybody has their breaking point. Every innocent person is capable of taking a hacksaw and cutting out the soft parts of themselves.

You cut and cut until there’s nothing left but cold, hard bone, merciless as the moon.

Chapter Five

EDIE

I think about the pint of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream in the tiny fridge back at the dorm. It’s my prize for the end of the night, and if Odetta eats it, I will go ballistic.

Don’t make a scene,Bender warned.Don’t draw attention.

I’ve resisted looking at Luka—his tattoo and his arms and hands and angel-devil eyes—for at least thirty minutes, a record I’m feeling proud of, considering he’s a darkly glittering black hole that sucks you in.

Why did I say all that stuff? I’m supposed to blend in, but I couldn’t be chill. Anyway, there’s no law against prostitutes reading old books.

And then I can’t help it again. I look up at him, and both Luka and Dardan catch it.

Dardan’s hand is still on my thigh, and his hand is not happy. He’s squeezing—hard.

Don’t make a scene.

I grit my teeth and try to push his hand off without making said scene, but then he squeezes harder. It starts to really hurt, so I turn to him and find him scowling at me. I push at his hand under the table, but it only squeezes harder.

Like somebody actually put a metal vise on my thigh.

“Stop,” I whisper.

He doesn’t stop.

Suddenly, Luka stands up.

Everybody scrambles to follow suit, just like before, and Dardan is forced to lay off and clamber out of the booth with the rest of them.

I follow along, standing next to Dardan but not too near. What’s happening? Are people leaving? I smooth down my skirt, unsure how to handle this. Will Dardan expect me to go somewhere with him now? Bender said they’d be in the bar all night!

The waiter comes, and Luka asks him to see if some suite is open.

Are they going to meet in private to talk about super-secret things? Bender won’t be happy, but that’s not my problem. I’m holding up my end of the agreement; that’s what counts.

---