Grit & Glamour (Sins & Riches Book 1) Page 2

  “Because I don’t trust you,” I answer. My locked door is nothing new.

  “Why are you brandishing that stick, waving it around?” she continues her line of questioning.

  “What part of I don’t trust you don’t you understand?” I question back, narrowing my eyes on her.

  “Do you even play hockey, darling? I’ve never seen you take an interest in any sport in your life,” she comments dully, as if it matters at all.

  “You don’t pay attention to my life enough to know that about me, mother,” I tell her.

  “Call me Ally, darling. You know I told you that terms like mother just age a woman. It’s empowering to just use my name,” she drones.

  “Mother, are you done?” I ask, still holding the stick ready. Is this really all she has? Can I talk my way out of this?

  “No, Scarlett. I am not done.” She pauses and runs her eyes over me. “Pity, you could have done so much with that had you not been so utterly and completely useless. I gave you all that, and you waste it.” She pauses again, sparing a glance at her boyfriend before turning back to me. “I could have made you into something brilliant, but you just had to be you and ruin it at every step for me. Every plan I made for my family, destroyed by the fact I had two worthless, broken children. One ruined by an insufferable personality and attitude that nothing seems capable of breaking. And the other’s so broken he can’t even attend a normal school. Who will inherit my empire, Scarlett? Because it surely won’t be either of you.”

  “Shut the hell up about Caleb, you fucking monster,” I snap, my fury now chasing away all sense.

  “Monster? I’m not a monster. I just gave birth to two. I should have known with your father. Such a beautiful man, but with an ugly, wretched soul. I should have aborted you. Had your grandmother not advised me to keep you, I most certainly would have.” She shows no emotion at all as she tells me that she wishes I’d never been born, and I make sure to hide mine in return. I refuse to give her the satisfaction.

  “Are you done now?” I ask again, proud when my voice doesn’t break. She can’t break me apart with her words anymore. Not since my seventeenth birthday.

  Everything changed that day, and she lost her power to hurt me fully in that way ever again. Even though the cost was great, I’m grateful for that at least. Anything I feel now is dulled, blanketed under layers of denial, repressed memories, and sheer emptiness.

  “Not even close,” she sneers. I lurch back as her boyfriend steps towards me. I think this one’s name is Jared… but she goes through them so quickly I could easily be wrong. One thing they all have in common is the fact that they’re all happy to turn a blind eye to what my mother does to Caleb and me.

  But the worst ones? They join in.

  Jared darts towards me, and I bring my hockey stick up, smashing it into his face without hesitation. Pausing for guilt or shame would only end in pain for me instead. A lesson I’ve learned well. I wince from the loud crack that rings through the air as the stick makes contact with the side of his face and nose. That definitely hurt.

  He lunges at me as I strike again and again, swinging the stick around like an insane person. I manage to get a hard knock on his head when he comes barrelling towards me, sending him swiftly to the ground with a hard thud. Before I can enjoy my victory, a fist slams into my face, sending pain racing through me. I stumble back, my hockey stick dropping to the floor as my hands instinctively go to my face. A moan of pain escapes me.

  Mum doesn’t pull her punches, but then again, I’m not so little anymore. She can’t just whack me over the head with her over-sized bag a few times and expect me to cower on the floor.

  She spares a glance at her boyfriend, and I seize the opportunity to escape. I lunge for the window, basically throwing myself out of it. I catch onto the ledge and hold myself there for just a second, before twisting and jumping onto the balcony. My mother’s face appears at the window as I walk across the low wall on the balcony towards the tree.

  “Get your ass back in here right now, Scarlett!” she screams after me, beginning to try and follow. She’s shakier and more unsteady as she leans out of the window and stretches towards the balcony than I am. I turn away, afraid to waste any more time watching her instead of escaping.

  I jump for the tree, grabbing onto the same branch I always do, then do my own mixture of shimmying and climbing down. Seeing my mother, standing on the wall of the balcony, considering jumping onto the tree, I take off running in the direction which Caleb had fled only minutes before. Biting my lip, I think of a plan.

  I’ll make a turn up ahead, taking a different route from him, and lead her in the wrong direction, before doubling back to him at our meeting place. That’s if she actually follows me?

  I spare a glance over my shoulder but don’t see anybody pursuing me. Still, paranoid that she’ll catch up to me, I keep looking back as I continue to run, my legs aching in protest. Cuts cover my bare feet and bits of debris dig in, sticking to the bottom of them. I want to stop, to find something to put on them, but I know I need to keep moving.

  Nervously, I look over my shoulder again and see a car driving up the road after me in the distance. It’s creeping along, getting closer, almost too slowly. Like it’s taking its time watching me. It’s not a car I recognise, but she could easily have brought home a new one. I pick up my pace, only slowing when I get a better look at the age of the car. She’d never drive anything that old, even if it was once a more expensive Mercedes. Its prime has come and gone, and the layer of dirt covering the lower half of the car shows that the owner knows it too. This isn’t a car that’s kept pristine and taken care of. It’s definitely not one of my mother’s.

  I breathe a sigh of relief and slow to a jog. Curious, I spare another glance at the car, wondering why they seem to be trying to approach me. It comes to a stop beside me, and I step back.

  “Maybe they just want directions,” I mutter to myself, and then I look down at my attire. Or maybe they’re worried about the crazy girl running around without shoes or a jacket at god only knows what time in the morning. I probably have a red mark on my face by now too from that punch… No wonder they’re following me.

  The window begins a gradual slide down, in an unhurried manner that must be deliberate. I stare at the small gap as it gets bigger, waiting for a face to appear, but it never does. A hand smacks over my mouth from behind, then two more grab my own hands and hold them behind my back.

  The hand covering my mouth is removed for just a second, only to be replaced by a cloth pressing down on my mouth and nose. I kick out and thrash, trying to break free from their hold. A masked man steps into my view, and I shoot him a hateful glare as I continue to attempt an escape from their clutches.

  I did not just escape all of that just to get kidnapped by some assholes!

  “Sleep tight, Princess,” a voice in my ear whispers sarcastically, just as my vision begins to blur.

  Princess?

  It occurs to me I’m not wriggling anymore, making no attempts to break free, and then I stop noticing anything at all, as blackness fills my vision and steals me away.

  Chapter Four

  “She’s coming to, I think. Put your mask back on,” a firm, authoritative voice commands. I stir at his words, feeling dizzy as blood rushes to my head. My eyes open, and I blink as I slowly take in my surroundings in a daze. My head throbs, but I push through the grogginess and begin to try to make sense of what’s happening.

  I’m in a small room, with just four metal chairs for furniture, one of which I’m tied too. No windows, one door, and the blandest shade of oatmeal paint on the walls. Oh, and two masked, extremely terrifying-looking men. Fantastic.

  Through the ski masks, all I can see are their eyes. The taller of the two has green eyes, and the shorter one kneeling closer to me has brown. The shade is one not dissimilar to mine and my brother’s, though mine are tinged with a little green near the centres. There’s a coldness in both of their gazes
that has me sitting upright and wishing more than anything that I could get free.

  “Scarlett Carrington?” the taller one asks, confirming him as the authoritative speaker from before.

  “Who’s asking?” I retaliate, trying to wrap my head around what the hell is going on. As I speak I feel a sting in my left cheek under my eye and flinch. Fuck that hurt. Thanks, Mum.

  “Me. I’m asking. And you? You’re going to tell me everything I want to know, or this is going to become a much more unpleasant experience for us both,” he threatens in a low tone.

  I weigh up my options before deciding to answer, “I’m Scarlett.”

  “Great. Now tell me, why did you set us up?” he demands, not giving me a second.

  “I’m sorry, but what?” I sputter, my brain spinning, trying to keep up with the insanity unfolding around me. The throb in my head still hasn’t subsided, and I can’t help but think it’s not helping my cognitive abilities.

  “Why did you set us up? Did someone pay you? Who contacted you?” he rapid fires the questions at me, pushing me for a response.

  “I didn’t set you up, nobody paid me. Who are you?” I question, looking between the two masked men in confusion. “What the hell is going on here?” I ask again when nobody answers me.

  “We’re the ones asking questions, sweetheart, so relax your lips unless they’re answering me.” He crosses the room as he speaks, stopping in front of where I’m trapped. He towers over me as he looks down into my eyes. “Why did you set us up?”

  “I didn’t, damnit!” I repeat, my voice raising from frustration.

  “You hired a team to take out Allyana Carrington, correct?” he questions, and something clicks in my brain.

  “Holy fuck, you’re the assassins!” I blurt out. The one kneeling chuckles, silencing only when the taller man throws a glare his way.

  “Now you remember,” he drawls in a sarcastic tone. “Since your brain is clearly functioning again, please tell me who the fuck paid you to set us up?”

  “Nobody!” I shout quickly, alarm rushing through me. Everything in my body is demanding I leap up and run, but the ties that bind me to this chair won’t allow it. “I swear, nobody paid me, or asked me to do anything. I ordered the hit on her of my own accord, and I have no idea what went wrong. Maybe you could tell me, actually. Seeing as I’m the customer here, and you’re the one that didn’t deliver,” I add, my confidence beginning to return as my head clears.

  “We haven’t delivered? We. Haven’t. Delivered? Did she really just fucking say that to me?” the taller man asks his associate, his voice riddled with disbelief.

  “She’s must be kidding you. I mean, she’s the one that selected the hit as a civilian target. That woman is dark and dirty in ways that should never see the light of day, it’s obvious she was up a few tiers on the price scale,” the other man responds. His voice is softer, a little smoother compared to the edge in the taller man’s voice. He also has a very light accent, not that I can place it. Whatever accent it is, it’s clear he’s trying to hide it.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. She’s just my mother,” I tell them honestly. Sure, my mother is evil, but she isn’t a crime lord or anything. Our family’s money comes from a legitimate business and property empire. A successful empire that she runs all by herself, even with the two bratty children she was burdened with, as she likes to constantly remind me.

  “Why would a pretty, rich girl like you want to kill her mommy? Did she not buy you the Porsche you wanted for your birthday?” he taunts in a derisive tone.

  “It’s none of your business why I want her dead, all you had to do was do your job and just get it done. Now she’s going to kill me instead!” I snap back, fury swirling in my gut.

  The door bursts open, and my eyes immediately look towards it for the entrant, praying for a chance at escape. A man with brown eyes and a lightly-tanned face enters the room. He’s quickly forgotten as my gaze latches onto what is in his arms—rather who is in his arms.

  “Caleb!” I shout, jerking and trying desperately to break free from the confines of the chair. It rattles loudly as I try to jump up from the ground with the chair to get to him. He wriggles in the man’s hold, but his hands are tied and there’s a blindfold over his face. Seeing him put in such a stressful situation sends sparks of panic through me. “Caleb!” I yell again, trying even harder to break free. My wrists hurt like hell from where I tug on them in an attempt to get out of the rope’s grasp.

  “Put your fucking mask on,” the taller man growls at the guy walking in, ignoring my pleas. I look back in the direction of the entrant, watching as he pulls a ski-mask on over his head in a rush. “You! Look at me,” the taller man demands loudly, and I comply without thinking. The commanding tone lures my panicked mind into following. His attention however has already diverted back to the newcomer. “Are you a fucking amateur?”

  “Obviously not. I found this one, didn’t I?” he argues, releasing my brother from his grip as he does to make his point.

  “It’s okay, Caleb. Don’t panic!” I call over to him, cringing as he stumbles to get his footing. The man grabs hold of his shoulder, steadying Caleb on his feet.

  “Oh, you captured a child? Excuse me while I go find your fucking participation trophy,” the taller man snaps.

  “Fucking cool it, man. He made a mistake,” the man on his knees says, before gesturing to me, “She probably didn’t see anything anyway.”

  I nod my head in agreement. Nothing but a three-second glimpse of his face before noticing my brother. “I didn’t see his face,” I lie. “All I saw was my brother, honestly.”

  “She’s lying.” The taller man sighs, sounding exhausted all of a sudden. The newcomer seems to hover awkwardly, thrown off balance by the taller man’s snappiness. He turns his now-masked face towards mine.

  “Fuck,” he mutters, only just loud enough for me to catch.

  “What?” I ask, feeling paranoid.

  “Nothing,” he says dismissively. I turn towards Caleb and see the pain in his eyes at seeing me.

  “What’s wrong with me?” I demand, turning back to the newcomer. “Tell me now, or I won’t be answering any questions.”

  He turns to the taller man, as if silently asking for permission, at a nod from him, he focuses back on me. “You’ve just got a nasty bruise on your face. Can’t you feel it? It’s turned all kinds of purple since I last looked.”

  “Oh, just the bruise? Yeah I can feel it.” I sigh. “I don’t pay too much attention to pain after noticing it, I guess I forgot it was there. Sucks that it’s on my face though. I don’t suppose any of you have any concealer handy?” The sarcasm slips out without so much as a thought.

  “Enough of this, tie the boy to the chair next to her,” the taller man issues the command to the newcomer of the three in a thundering tone.

  “His name is Caleb!” I snap, fuelled by anger and irritation, rather than sense, as I speak out.

  “We don’t name our chickens, sweetheart.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I demand, guessing that it isn’t anything complimentary.

  “I certainly don’t answer the chicken’s stupid questions either.” He turns to the newcomer. “Is he secured?”

  “Yeah. No way he’s getting out of those ropes.”

  “You also said no way anyone followed us.” The taller man points at the one kneeling. “You, go check his work.”

  “So, what, you’re the big boss here then I suppose?” I ask him, trying to get a hold on the situation.

  “We’re all equal partners,” he replies in a cocky drawl. I can almost hear the smirk in his voice, and I’d bet all the money I have stashed away that he’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat underneath that ski-mask.

  “That didn’t sound very equal to me,” I mutter.

  “I’m sorry, are you here to run team-building exercises for us or something? Shut the hell up unless you’re spoken to!” he shouts at me in a
thundering tone. The effect of it even seems to stun his own men into silence, as we’re all thrust into a long, awkward one that drags on. It’s fitting he’s the one to finally shatter the quiet as he’s the one that caused it. “We have to kill her.” He sounds resigned. His voice is hollow, though almost a little sad. Nothing like I’d expect when hearing those words from him.

  “Wait, what?” I screech, feeling my heart thrash wildly against my chest. My eyes dart to Caleb in panic, before switching back to our captors.

  “You can’t be serious,” the newcomer says, shaking his head. Even without being able to see his expression, I can tell he’s a little uneasy. The least professional of the bunch, but he’s built like the real deal at least. Tall, though not as obscenely huge as the leader. His shoulders are broad, and his muscled, fit body is dressed all in black.

  “I’m with him. We kill assholes for money, not kids for silence,” the one that was kneeling on the floor before agrees. Now that he’s standing, I notice he’s the exact same height as the newcomer. Their voices even sound similar, with the same underlying accent.

  “I’m not a child,” I hiss, embarrassment flushing my cheeks.

  “How old are you, sweetheart?” the tall one presses.

  “I’ll be eighteen in—

  “How old are you?” he asks again, cutting me off.

  “I said, I’ll be—

  “How fucking old are you?”

  “Seventeen, damn it. But I’ll be eighteen in two days.”

  “One day,” he corrects absently, before continuing, “Seventeen. You’re a child. Now shut up and be grateful for that fact.”

  “We don’t kill kids. It says so right on our website,” the newcomer points out, and I can’t help but remember seeing it on their site—No celebrities, no minors, and no top-level politicians. What an odd set of requirements.

  “We may not take hits on kids, but we do always clean up our messes. She saw your face; it’s too risky to just let her go now,” the taller one says resolutely.