Ten minutes later, I’m sitting at a small table that’s designed for playing cards, wedged in the middle of a very small kitchen. This place is practically a fucking postage stamp, and I’m starting to itch, like I need some wide open space, but I need to wait.
I’ve since learned that the guy who answered the door, the one now sitting across from me, is called Jimmy, and the one to my right is his younger brother, Dave. Jimmy’s a building super, he tells me, and works part-time at a hospital. Dave, who is basically just a baby-faced, clean-shaven version of his brother, also works at the hospital. Oh, and he’s a magician in his spare time.
A.Fucking.Magician.
“Do you mind if I borrow your cell phone?” I ask Jimmy, fluttering my eyelashes at him as Dave shuffles a deck of cards beside me. I’m well aware that I need to get the fuck out of dodge, but I also need to be polite. I hate people – I’d rather just fucking do what I want to do – but there are social rules I need to follow in order to get what I want. I’ve finally learned this, after eighteen years of being a loose fucking cannon. I can’t afford to be like that if I want to come back to New York on a permanent basis. Discretion and bullshit artistry are my new lucky charms, my way of getting ahead in this family business of mine before someone like Gracie comes along and steals my fucking spoils.
“It’s charging,” Jimmy says. “Give it a couple minutes and it should have enough juice to make a call.”
“Thanks,” I say, dazzling him with a smile full of my perfect teeth. All the better to eat you with, I think as I tilt my head to the side, studying Jimmy openly. He’s kind of hot in a lazy way, and I’m fucking horny. I finish my evaluation as I’m thrumming my long red nails against the plastic card table. Nah. Not fuckable enough for Kaitlin McLaughlin. Sorry, buddy.
“So how’d you say you knew Scarlett again?” Jimmy asks, as he cuts a lime into segments and wedges one piece into his bottle of beer. He repeats the action with two more beers, sliding one in front of his brother and the other over to me. I take the beer with a smile of thanks, popping the lime inside the bottle with my index finger and taking a gulp. A slow smile spreads across Jimmy’s face as he watches me swallow, and I can tell he wants to get into my pants. Or my mouth. Or both.
“We’re just friends,” I shrug, feeling irritated that I have to explain myself to these guys. Why the fuck should I have to?
“And she told you to come to Jimmy’s apartment?” Dave chimes in, laughing. “That’s hilarious. I thought for sure that Scar fucking hated Jimmy.” He punches his brother in the arm, but Jimmy doesn’t move. He’s not smiling at all now, his tongue sliding over his teeth as he stares at me with zero expression.
I look down at the key in front of me, sitting innocently next to the beer bottle. There used to be a line on top of the six, but it’s mostly faded away. And it’s then I realize. The number written on the card isn’t a six.
It’s a nine.
It used to be underlined so you could tell the difference, but it’s so scuffed and faded, you could easily read it as either a six or a nine.
Dave sees me glance at the key tag, his lips stretching into a grin that bares his teeth. He’s not dangerous looking, not really. Neither of them is. But it doesn’t matter. They’re wolves, just like me. I see this now. I see it all; the way they’ve positioned themselves, in between me and the front door. The casual way Jimmy keeps his hand on his knife. This is the wrong apartment.
Dave picks the key up, his deck of cards forgotten. I glance over at Jimmy, whose eyes are looking rather psychotic right now. I don’t move as he takes the knife and points it at me across the tiny card table, pressing the sharp tip against the bare flesh between my tits. I’m having a hard time staying still, though; I’m suddenly dizzy, and this tiny room feels like it’s about to crush me. I take a deep breath, looking at the bottle of beer in front me, my vision doubling as it becomes two bottles. Fuck.
“You drugged me,” I slur, fighting to hold onto the table, but I’m slipping.
“You should really replace these keys, bro,” Dave says, taking the key tag between his thumb and forefinger and turning it upside down – no, turning it the right way – so it says 9. Apartment nine. Fuck. I’ve been in the wrong apartment this entire time. I lose my balance, Jimmy’s knife nicking my skin as I slide off my chair and hit the kitchen floor with a solid whack. I see stars for a moment, rolling onto my back as I take rapid breaths of air into my lungs. There’s a blackness that wants to descend upon me, and my body wants to let it smother me to sleep. No. Fuck that. Stay awake, Kaitlin. Stay the fuck awake.
Jimmy stands over me so he’s got one foot on either side of my waist. He looks down at me, sporting a grave expression as he cocks his head to one side.