Page 121 of Muse (Fighting Fate)

She opened her mouth to protest, but the music suddenly disappeared and the room fell quiet.

“Alright, party’s over. You girls need to get out. Now.” TJ’s death glare worked every time.

The girls quickly collected their discarded clothing off the floor, dressing as they left. I sat forward on the couch, squashing out the remains of the smoke in the ash tray and looked up at TJ. He met my gaze just as the door closed behind the girls. “What’s up?” I asked.

“Do we have any E’s bagged?”

Mac stood up, zipping up

his fly as he went. “Two,” he said, heading for the kitchen to check.

TJ nodded then checked his watch. The dark glint in his eye told me he was majorly pissed. “Tom was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago. That’s strike two.”

My eyebrow went up. “Again?” He’d only collected yesterday. It was unusual for him to come more than once or twice a week.

TJ glanced at me again. There was definitely concern on his face. “Just…be weary,” he said. We all knew what that meant: Be ready to fight.

I watched Vinnie give an uneasy look to TJ before disappearing into the kitchen with Mac.

Fifteen minutes later, a knock sounded on the front door. No one used the front door. Ever. We all looked at each other in alarm before pushing to our feet and checking our guns.

Kaeli

My mouth suddenly felt like a desert, and my palms grew sweaty. Shaking, I stepped up to the door and knocked. A long minute later the door peeled open and I was faced with what could only be described as my worst nightmare. It left no doubt in my mind that there were drugs involved.

“What the fuck do you want?!”

I stared, wondering if it was actually possible to die of fright. The man who stood glaring at me had shoulder length hair that looked like it had never been washed, with small, beady eyes and horribly discolored teeth. He looked to be around his mid-twenties, and his face was covered in acne scars. He wore no shirt – only faded blue jeans that hung low on his hips, and although he was obviously very fit, it wasn’t an attractive sight. Every inch of his torso was inked with vivid and vulgar tattoos.

I tried to remember what Ken had told me to say. “Um…Ken sent me?” I said, my voice high and squeaky. “He said to tell you Tom-”

Before I could finish what I’d been instructed to say, I was grabbed violently and yanked inside the house. The acne man slammed the door behind me then dragged me towards the back of the house. I tried to scream, but he somehow managed to slap his hand over my mouth before any sound came out. I instantly went into a state of panic. I didn’t think my heart had ever beat so fast in all my life.

With acne man’s hand clenched painfully around my upper arm, he yanked me down the hall and into another room, shoving me to a stop just inside the door, and pushing me against the wall. I was sure I was about to go into full hyperventilation I was breathing so quick, but then I suddenly found myself surrounded by five more terrifying figures - one who was aiming a very scary looking gun right at my head, and my breath stopped altogether.

The gun man looked a little older than acne man - maybe late twenties, and didn’t have anywhere near as many tattoos, but the thin jagged scar that ran across one cheek, from his temple to his chin, coupled with his number one shaved head, was enough to scare the crap out of me.

The look he gave me was enough to make me want to vomit. “Who the fuck are you?!” he growled.

I was so worried I was going to be sick, I didn’t realize tears had started escaping. I honestly thought I was going to pee myself. “Ken sent me,” I said in a weak voice. “He said to tell you that Tom OD’d, and that I was his replacement.”

His jaw clenched as he glared at me. He nodded to acne man. “Search her.”

Acne man instantly grabbed Ken’s bag, tossing it to one of the other guys, then pushed me harder against the wall, his hands groping over every inch of my clothing, pulling out my phone and purse and tossing them as well. Then he continued his search under my clothes, his hands roaming over my skin, and under my bra, making me want to scream. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not whimper too loudly.

His hands disappeared, and I heard his voice beside my ear. “She’s clean. Very clean. I would very much like to make her a little dirty.”

I shuddered with repulsion, trying hard not to look back at his vulgar grin. Instead, I placed the bravest expression I could conjure on my face, and stared at the gun man.

Without taking his eyes, or his gun, off me, he called to one of the other men. “Mitch. What are we looking at?”

The guy who’d caught the bag – Mitch – looked up at me before he answered. He had a shaved head just like the gun man, and eyes that were a strange yellowy, brown color. Even though he wore a shirt, it looked like he was inked almost as much as acne man. The swirling patterns ran the entire length of both his arms, and I could see one that snaked down the side of his neck, disappearing under the collar of his shirt. He also had a piercing in his eyebrow – a silver bar that moved every time he frowned, which seemed to be a lot as he gazed at me.

“It’s definitely Ken’s bag,” he said. “Looks as though he wants more than the usual five bags today though.”

Gun man glowered at me for a few more minutes, then lowered his gun. “Either Ken doesn’t give a shit about you, or you’re really fucking stupid,” he mumbled before turning to a short, stocky guy with dirty blonde hair. “Davo, I want you to go and explain to Ken how much I fucking hate surprises.”

With wide eyes, I watched as Davo took a gun out from under his shirt, checked the cartridge then tucked it back securely in his pants, before striding out the door.

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