Page 57 of Pink Poison

“I know of the men,” shefinallyrasps. “I practically sent Barbie to Atticus. I told her to get some experience and find a place in his club. I didn’t know jack shit about him back then—just that the girls who worked there made good money.”

“What do you know about himnow?”

“He’s not a good man…gives me the creeps.” She shudders, and I can't blame her. Everything we know about the slimy fuck makes my skin crawl, too. “Met him once four, five, years ago. He came here askin’ if I knew anything about what happened at his club, lookin' for two girls. A blonde and a dark haired one, said something about the blonde being shot—that I'd know her if I saw her. I told him anyone from his neck of the woods wouldn’t be findin’ themselves here.”

Nodding, I pocket that information for later. It’ll be good for the club to know that Atticus has been here before. “What about Creed Hill?”

“The last name, Hill. That family is nothin’ but trouble, ya hear me?” she hisses. “They are a plague that walks this Earth and teaches our youth. Do not get into business with anyone who goes by that name.”

“I’ll pass the message along to Graves,” I assure her.

The wrinkles on her forehead soften as the anger fades from her face. I can count on one hand the times I’ve seen Mama Mo well and truly pissed. Whoever the Hill family is must have done something to her personally for her to get this worked up over it. “Good.” She sighs. “It’s not easy being the man in charge, but I’ve seen the good in him. He’ll do right by you boys.”

“Yes he will.” I smirk.

“Is that all you needed, boy?” she asks with a wobble in her voice.

Smiling, I bob my head before taking another sip of my now warm beer. “That’s all, for now. You know how Graves can get when he’s on a mission, he might have more questions soon.”

She snorts as she smacks my arm. “Finish that beer and get outta my club. You’ll scare customers away.”

“Yes ma’am.” I laugh as she scoots herself off the stool and shuffles away.

The sound of my phone ringing steals my attention. Sliding it from my pocket, Kash’s name flashes on the screen.Odd. We never call unless it’s an emergency.“Kash?” I answer.

“I need you to get to Le Papillon,” he hisses urgently.

My brows furrow. As far as emergencies go, unless he's about to lose a limb or his life, this doesn't really qualify. “Why?”

“It’s Stevie. Creed has her here.”

Fuck!

I stand from my seat, abandoning my drink.Stevie.She qualifies as an emergency above all others, especially when shit fuck Creed Hill is involved. “I thought we told him to leave her alone?”

A steady hum of club-esque music passes through the speaker before he replies. “We did. He chose not to listen.”

Of-fucking-course he didn’t.The man must have a fucking death wish, or given his preferences for clubs, a fucking death fetish. He just signed and sealed his death certificate with this stunt, and I'm happy to help deliver it.

“I’m on my way.”

Ending the call, I fight against the stiffness in my joints and book it out of Mo’s. The ache it causes is nothing compared to the fire burning in my chest at the implication that Stevie is in more trouble than we can get her out of.

Chapter twenty-one

Stevie

A tidal wave of nausea crashes into me, rousing me from whatever haze of confusion I fell in. Despite the dryness in my mouth, a pool of saliva gathers under my tongue, signaling the immediate need to vomit.What the hell happened to me?

“I require another shipment, Wilkinson.” Creed’s voice breaks through the cloudiness in my mind. “Your support of Everest Hill is greatly appreciated.”

I don’t know who he’s talking to, but I do know that the sound of his smug voice makes my stomach clench. A gag wretches its way out from me, spurring tears to well over my waterline while I attempt to roll off the bed. My body freezes, to the point I refuse to take a breath as I recognize an eerily, familiar wetness sticking between my thighs.

“Angel,” he coos softly, as ifthat'ssupposed to make me feel any better about what happened. “How are you feeling?”

I groan as I sit up. "S-Sick."

“Take your time.” He smiles.

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