Page 12 of Convict's Game

He blocked the door. “What kind of problems?”

“None of your business.”

He exhaled a breath of annoyance. “This is a very bad place owned by very bad people. There’s no way someone like you is here of your own accord, unless you’re a pretty little gangster. So help me out. Your name.”

I pressed my lips together, irritated that he thought I was one of them. “Mila, and I’m not in a gang. You probably are, though.”

He shrugged, those muscular shoulders rounding. “Something like that. Mila’s cute. Got a surname to go with that?”

Cute? I ignored the flush of warmth and pointed to the door. “Leave. Please.”

His gaze on me intensified. “Who’s out there that you’re scared of?”

“People. And I’m not scared.”

“That’s a lie.”

“You don’t know me to judge that.”

“No, Mila, scared little gangster, I don’t. My mistake in thinking I did. But tell me something. If you could leave this place right now and be free of whatever shit you’re in, would you?”

He was giving me an out. It was kind of him, but misguided.

“No. I wouldn’t. I know what I’m doing.”

I tightened my jaw. He did, too. We glared at one another until a clatter came from beyond the door, audible over the distant music.

Footsteps at the bottom of the stairs.

My bravado slipped. “Someone’s coming up. Please. Go, now. Don’t make this harder for me.”

He took a step closer until he loomed over me, frustration clear on his features. “What happens if I stay?”

I didn’t answer.

He sighed and shook his head. “Got a phone?”

“No. I didn’t bring one.”

Convict slid a phone from his pocket and held it up to show me, then set it down on the dresser. Without another word, he strode away, not pausing as he climbed out of the window. The metal supports for the air-conditioning unit groaned, and I winced and quickly flipped the door lock open then darted after him.

But as I reached the glass, he was nowhere to be seen. My mystery man had vanished into the night.

That was fine with me. I shut the window and took a deep breath of relief.

Him being here could’ve ruined all I was striving to achieve. No lost boy with a handsome face was worth that.

Chapter 4

Convict

I sprawled across the back seat of my borrowed car, my leg up just as the doctor ordered, and with Mila on the tablet I’d brought with me from the warehouse.

I’d watched her for two hours. Not creepy if you had a surveillance excuse and a head wound. Probably.

Nothing had happened in that time. Whoever she was waiting for never showed. There was only a shady-as-fuck loser who skulked in a ground-floor room but did little else. Obviously a lackey or some kind of guard. At least he wasn’t bothering her.

After a while, Mila curled up on the bed and didn’t move. She’d fallen asleep, I guessed. The camera view stole her colour, but I knew enough to fill in the gaps. Red lips, blonde hair, pale eyes under the hood of her oversized hoodie.