Page 6 of Outlaw
Sabrina
Idrawin one last frustrated breath, struggling with my necklace clasp again. Diamonds are a girl’s best friend, but right now, I’m not so sure about how I feel about the chains that bind us to our shiny, designer BFFs.
“Priceless,” I mutter sarcastically, throwing the chain down on my vanity and replacing it with a simpler white gold necklace with a diamond infinity loop pendant—and a much easier clasp.
At this rate, I’ll show up to the gala with one earring, one shoe, a disheveled up-do and cramped fingers, and I’ll still be late. I’m about ready to throw my hands up in supplication to the social gods when a loud, abrupt bang against my vanity wall interrupts my prayers. The necklace slips between my fingers and slithers to the floor from my surprised backward motion. Then my fingers hit a glass bottle of perfume. It tips over, leaking floral fumes all over my counter, but I freeze, eyes wide.
Another loud thump.
This time with a muttered swear and two angry voices talking over each other.
What in God’s name is going on next door?
More banging.
A harsh order.
The sound of something shattering.
With the sharp tang of the fragrance stifling my nose, I jerk back into action, leaning forward to grasp the bottle and stand it up again. My stomach twists in knots and my shaky hand fumbles and the bottle falls again. The sweet pool of slowly evaporating liquid is growing larger by the second. Soon it’ll be cascading over my sterling silver tray and onto the carpet. It’s the distracting thought that tingles across my scalp to help me avoid the fearful question of what’s going on in a room nearby. That distraction doesn’t really work, though. All it does is make a bigger mess of the spill. Panic causes the back of my mouth to taste sour now, and I struggle not to break out in nervous hives. I absently grab the towel that I just used after my shower, now on the floor from my shock, and swab up the perfumed mess.
Each second my fingers plunge into the damp towel, I hear a little more of the ruckus going on next door. I press my ear up against the wall, one hand balancing in the sweet-smelling mess.
“I had it on good authority I wouldn’t be dealing with anything fucked up and underhanded tonight. I must have been wrong—”
“Funny, I don’t remember anyone making that promise. The thing I do remember—”
“Watch yourself, fucker.”
“I’m working to make things crystal clear, and this is the best way I know how…”
There’s an extended block of muffled conversation, then I press my ear so hard against the wall I think my eardrum can pop from the suction. It works. I can hear almost every word.
“I merely need assurances that you will deliver.”
“I just gave you the location of the goods.”
“I need to see them…the same way you saw the cash in that briefcase. It’s insurance, so you don’t make off with my money. Surely you agree that’s reasonable?”
“Depends on how you define reasonable,” the other man choked out. “Can I have some breathing room before your goon goes down and never fucking wakes up again?”
I hear a sharp snap, and I flinch back from the wall. I don’t dare take a breath.
“Let me call my boys. I’ll have them swing by to check—”
My brow pinches as the voices fade too much to hear again. They probably moved from one room to the other. It’s maddening, only getting half of the conversation, but I mentally kick myself for making it my business in the first place. Whatever it is going down next door, I need to ignore it. This is the type of thing my law firm associates would advise clients to stay away from. It’s best not to be a witness. What matters to me tonight is getting myself ready for the gala and out the door.
But as usual, I’m curious, and remain glued to the spot on the wall. Something’s going on over there. There’s a chance I might hear something that comes in handy. It’s an opportunity I can’t ignore. Releasing the towel, I press my ear to the pale lavender wall of my bedroom again.
Nothing.
It goes quiet on the other side of that damn wall.
Goosebumps prickle all across my exposed arms and legs, and I realize I’m breathing deafening gasps in and out of my mouth. With a wince, I clap a hand over my red lipstick covered lips.
They start up again, to which I breathe a small sigh of relief.
“There. Look at the tiny screen. See the tiny people? Those are my guys at the warehouse. See the street sign? We weren’t lying about the location.”
