Page 3 of Wicked Dove
I stay out until the sun rises, waiting for my deadbeat dad to leave for work, still as drunk as he was the night before. I manage a few hours of sleep before the noise from the trailer park wakes me up. Sometimes I might make a little money babysitting some of the neighbors’ kids, but most of them don’t seem to care if anyone is watching their children or not, so it’s not a reliable way to make money, which means I wish the day away, waiting for those headlights to appear in the tree line.
Taking a deep breath, I let the truth settle. I need to run from this life, and this is my chance. This is my escape. Walker is right; it doesn’t matter what I need to do for that kind of money, it’s worth it. Besides, it’s never been anything extreme before. Then again, our take has never been that much either.
“What’s the plan, Walker?”
He taps his fingertip on the steering wheel, avoiding my gaze as he stares straight ahead at the warehouse. “There’s a poker game happening in there right now,” he states, making me frown.
There’s not a single light on. It’s either happening in a windowless room or downstairs in the basement.
“Illegal.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement, one he nods to. “What do you have to do?”
One breath. Two breaths. Three.
“Take the winnings.”
My mind kicks into overdrive as I start to nod in understanding. “How do you plan on doing that?”
The familiar smile appears on his face again as he glances at me, eyes shining with excitement. “I’m going to win it.”
“Not sitting here, you’re not. Do you want me to keep the engine running or something? I—” He immediately starts to shake his head, cutting my words off as my mouth starts to dry. “Spit it out,” I grumble, aware he’s withholding something.
Instead of answering, he glances toward the back seat of the car. I follow his gaze and see a shimmer of silver sequins sparkling in a revealing two-piece set.
“That’s for me, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Usually, I love it when his voice rasps like that, but not now. I hate it when jobs force me to hide my true self. But for twenty-five thousand dollars, what’s a tiny pair of shorts and a strappy bikini top going to do?
“Fine,” I murmur, despite the uncertainty growing in my chest, and before I have time to let my self-doubt take over, Walker grabs my chin, bringing my gaze to his.
“Power is forged in ruin, Elodie. This is your power,” he reminds me, sending a wave of calmness over me. I can’t remember how many times he’s uttered those words to me. They ground me every time.
“Apparently not, Walker,” I muse, glancing out of the corner of my eye to the shimmering silver. “Apparently, power is actually forged in a sexy two-piece.”
Goosebumps spread across my skin,the night air calm but chilly as I walk through the empty parking lot in my new outfit and matching heels. A pair of hot pants and a bikini top isn’t what I envisioned for myself tonight, but when needs must… and there’s so much money on the line, it’s worth it.
Walker leads the way, swiping a card at the device by the door. A small green light flashes before the click of the lock turns and the door swings open.
As it falls shut behind us, I hope the air will warm up, but if anything, it seems to dip a degree or two. Fighting back another shiver, I follow Walker, tugging my hair loose from my hair tie in an attempt to let the purple waves drape around my shoulders and warm me up.
I don’t have a single drop of makeup on my face, but it seems Walker didn’t realize that when he got me the distraction outfit.
I’ve worked with less; because that’s all I have, so this will have to do.
My ears strain, waiting for the murmuring of others as we head down the dimly lit hall, but I hear nothing. It’s only whenWalker slows by the next door on our left and offers me his hand that I know we’re about to move into action.
Standing tall, I make sure to roll my shoulders back, exuding all the confidence I can gather as he opens the door. Thick smoke greets me, and I have to fight the urge to waft it away from my face.
The room isn’t lit much more than the hallway, but it’s bright enough to outline the men we’re intruding upon. There are five of them, but only two are currently playing. The others seem to be there in support of the two men with cards in their hands. A quick glance to the right confirms they’re wearing the leather cuts known to represent The Vultures, while the guy to the left is wearing a simple white tee.
Eyes scan over me and I fight the urge to shy away from their curious gazes. Instead, Walker pulls me into his side with a smirk at our audience. “Am I late?”
The Vulture at the table snarls. “We’re not taking late arrivals, motherfucker. Take your piece and get the fuck out of here. Actually, leave the hot piece and save yourself before I put a bullet through your skull.”
I gulp at his ferocity, but if Walker feels any kind of unease, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he snickers as if the man just told a joke.
“What’s your name?” White Tee Guy asks, briefly glancing at Walker before turning his curious eyes back to me.
“You don’t need my name for me to win your money,” Walker snaps back, cracking his head from side to side, and I sense the shift in the room immediately.
