CHAPTER SIX
“Damn right I did.”
SLIM: I HEARD THAT you and Ellie are in trouble with the Castellos. Is it true?
Slim: I can help. Let us work something out.
I toss my phone down with a snort and continue pacing the small living room, wired with agitation. Taking any kind of help from Slim would be like selling my soul. I’ve witnessed him trap enough unlucky bastards to know better. He’s not an evil man, but he’s also not as nice and “caring” as he likes to make people believe he is. He artfully ensnares, and I’d be stupid to walk back into that den.
The kettle bursts into a whistle and I damn near jump out of my skin. I’m so on edge I might start bleeding from psychological lacerations. It’s the reason I decided to make myself a cup of chamomile tea in the first place. I pad over to the stove and switch it off then pour steaming hot water into the waiting mug on the counter with a ready teabag inside.
Leaving it to steep, I start pacing again. I haven’t been able to relax since Trent dropped me off. To be honest, I’m not too confident. Trent and his brothers have some strong connections and are well-respected through and through on this side of the world, but what kind of pull could he have with people like Stefano Castello? Men who break into women’s apartments to extort and threaten them. Men whom he claims wouldn’t have let Ellie go as promised, but instead “make an example” out of her. Those are bad, bad people. And while the Garzas are many things, they aren’t violent criminals. Badasses, sure, but not bad men.
They are the good kind of bad.
I’m startled once again when a heavy knock sounds at the door. I dart to it and check the peephole. Seeing Trent on the other side, I jerk the door open and all but pounce on him.
“Did you talk to him? What did he say? Is Ellie okay? Did they hurt her?”
“Whoa. Jesus.” Trent jerks back like I’ve assaulted him. “Wanna let me in first?”
“Oh, right. Sorry.” I nervously scratch the back of my neck and step aside for him to enter. Only then do I notice he’s holding two containers of fruit salad. He walks over to the two-seater and sets them down. “Come sit. Eat.”
“Why is everyone always trying to feed me?” I grumble as I move to the table. “Do I look emaciated or something?”
“I brought you lunch because I figured you’d be here feeding yourself anxiety instead of food.” He drags his gaze over me as he lowers into the chair. “I can see I was right.”
“You’re wrong,” I say as I sit down. “I made tea.”
He glances over to the kitchen counter where the mug of untouched tea sits. “That tea?”
“Oh, shut up.” I kick his foot under the table. “Tell me. What happened?”
Using two fingers, he nudges one of the containers with a plastic fork to me. “Eat.”
Oh, for shit’s sake. I grab the container, pop it open, unwrap the plastic fork, then stab a piece of pineapple and shove it into my mouth. “Hhmmmmyum. So delicious.” I pierce a piece of cantaloupe along with a slice of strawberry and stuff them into my mouth as well. “Ohhh yummy yum yum. So filling.”
His lips twitch as he opens his container and slowly unwraps the fork. “Yes, I spoke to him.”
“And what did he say? What—”
“Keep eating. You stop eating, I stop talking.”
“I thought time would have changed you from being a browbeating jerk,” I say, shaking my head. “But nope, you’re still irritating.”
He pointedly looks at my fruit salad and arches a brow.
“Okay, okay, I’m eating!” I swear he’s the same Trenton. The exact same. Manipulative and unapologetic about it. Time has done nothing to soften his edges.
“He’s not dropping the debt.”
Shit. As much as I didn’t expect a miracle, I still held out hope. My mind immediately begins running a million thoughts a second, and no matter which route I channel those thoughts of “maybes” and “what ifs,” all roads lead to selling my soul to Slim.
“Given the timeframe,” Trent continues, pulling me from my racing thoughts, “unless you’re prepared to get in bed with a loan shark, you’re not gonna secure that money quickly enough. Even if you had gotten away with that necklace today, you wouldn’t have been able to fence it right away.” He forks a grape into his mouth. “So, I’m thinking I could loan you the cash, and see to it that your friend gets out safely.”
At that, my head snaps up. “What?”
“If I pay the 92k, you’ll owe me instead of him.”
I blink at him. Granted, the Garzas weren’t poor growing up, but they weren’t rich either. And sure, Red Cage is cream of the crop and is no doubt pulling in some good profits, but ninety-two thousand dollars is still a lot of dough to just lend out. Does he really have that kind of money just lying around?
Funny, because a few years ago, that’s the kind of money I’d make in a weekend of counting. Now it feels like a million dollars.
That said, when I think about who I’d rather owe—him, someone I know and somewhat trust, or a bunch of criminals, it’s a no-brainer.
“What would I owe you?”
“We can talk about that later.” Another piece of fruit goes into his mouth. “But it includes you going home.”
And there’s the catch. Sonofabitch buried the lead. I sit back and cross my arms. “You fucker.”
He shrugs, unphased. “What I’ll need you to do as repayment is in L.A., not here.”
“Can’t you think of something that doesn’t include me having to move back?” I ask. “I have nothing. I can’t move back like this. It’s…it’s embarrassing.”
“It’s life,” he says. “You’ve got a lot to be proud of. You took care of your mom when no one else would, cleared her medical bills, paid off her mortgage, and bought her a restaurant. With cash. You did that. I don’t understand what you’re hiding from.”
“Seriously? You know all this—see, this is why I don’t like you guys. You’re all up in everyone’s business all the time. No privacy.”
He chuckles. “I actually know all of this because your mother brags about you to everyone she talks to.”
I frown. “Really?”
He shakes his head at me. “That’s the deal, Lexi. Should I go back to Stefano or not?”
Idly, I fork around the fruits. “I have twenty-two hundred dollars to my name, Trent. I can’t afford a place and I’m not gonna stay at home. There are too many people stuffed in that small house.”
“We’ll work something out.”
I lean forward and narrow my eyes at him. “I’m not living with you, and I will not pay off my debt by being your sex slave. So if that’s your plan, then no deal.”
He makes a face at me. “I’d be out of my mind to let you anywhere near my house or my balls.” He jabs his fork in my direction. “You still owe me a pair of Jordan’s, by the way.”
Laughter bursts from me. “I said I was sorry! I thought they were Torin’s.”
God, I’m embarrassed of how psycho young Lexi was. Yup, I’d set a brand-new pair of Jordan’s on fire after Torin and I had an argument over I can’t remember what. Only to find out afterward that the Jordans were Trent’s. When he got home and found his roasted sneakers, he was livid. He didn’t talk to me for about a month, no matter how much I apologized.
“Right,” he mumbles sarcastically. “Listen, the priority right now is getting you out of this pit with Stefano and saving this Ellie person. We’ll talk about L.A. in L.A.”
“You’re sure he’ll let Ellie go if we pay?”
“If I’m the one dealing with him, yeah.”
Feeling both relieved and exhausted, I breathe out a heavy breath. “Okay. Okay…let’s do it.”
“I’ll go work this out.” He jerks his chin at my fruit salad. “Finish up then start packing. We’re leaving tonight.”
“But what about Ellie? I can’t just abandon her.”
“Not my problem.”
“I can’t be a jerk and just leave her here, Trent.”
“You’re putting yourself in debt to save her life, Lexi. What the fuck? Doubt she’d have done the same for you. I won’t give a shit about her after this. I care about you.” He covers his half-empty container and stands. “To be honest, if she comes out of this and doesn’t want to pack up and run back home, then she deserves whatever shit she finds herself in next.”
“You’re such an asshole.”
“Thanks.” He digs his phone from his pocket and begins swiping and typing. “Pack your shit, Lexi. Be ready to go when I get back.”
As he walks out of the apartment, I stick up both of my middle fingers and shake them at his back. Oh, how I love to hate the Garzas.
I’m picking at my fruit salad when my phone pings.
Trent: You flipped me off when I wasn’t looking, didn’t you?
Me: Damn right I did.
Trent: You’re losing your edge. The old you would have done it to my face.
Me: You’re about to save my ass. I know how to choose my battles.
Me: See, I’ve grown. You’re still the same.
Trent: Trust me, Lexi. I’m so fucking GROWN you can’t even imagine…
I drop my phone.