Page 60 of Painkiller (Sin Records #3)

P hoebe’s message on my phone made my heart beat out of rhythm. It had been months since I heard from her. Years since she initiated contact.

Phoebe: Meet me at the apartment. I need to talk to you.

My first thought was she’d learned about Jagger and me. Dread pooled in my belly because my relationship with her might be permanently destroyed after this conversation.

I wasted no time, grabbing a cab instead of my usual walk. Minutes later, I stepped out of the taxi, looking around for her, knowing she wouldn’t be able to get inside without me. She didn’t know the code since Jagger had the locks changed. Assuming I beat her there, I went upstairs.

I punched in the code. When I pushed open the door, something—someone shoved me so hard that I stumbled, my phone flying from my hand, and my ankle twisting with a sickening crunch. My face slammed into the sofa table. Agony burst like fire across my cheek and jaw.

Adrenaline kicked in quickly, and I fought through the pain to push myself up.

Fingers gripped my hair before I could turn, and I could hear the strands ripping from the follicles.

I flailed and thrashed in the person’s hold, landing a couple of elbows into their side.

“Fucking bitch,” a male voice hisses, slamming my face against the table again.

Dizziness overtook me. Darkness tinted the edge of my vision.

“She won’t be able to tell us what we want if she’s unconscious,” another male voice called out.

I was spun, my injured ankle dragging the ground. I swallowed the sob that threatened to erupt, refusing to let them hear me cry.

A man dressed in black jeans and a black shirt steps into the room.

Hair as dark as midnight is slicked back with enough product to start a fire.

Beady eyes bore holes into me with intrigue and desire.

A deep scar runs down his face from his temple to his jaw.

He looks like a stereotypical thug, but it’s who he has in his arms that sends a bolt of fear into my chest and rips my heart in two.

Phoebe practically dangles in his arms. Her face is as battered and bruised as mine feels, and tears stream down her gaunt face.

“Let her go,” I demand, thrashing again.

“Just as soon as you give us what we want.”

I sucked in a breath, nodding. “Anything,” I promised, though that wasn’t true because I didn’t know what they wanted. I didn’t have anything to give.

“Where’s the deed to this apartment?”

And that was exactly why I couldn’t keep my promise. “I don’t have it.”

“Don’t lie to me, little girl. Your daddy already told us you were left this apartment. Now, where’s the deed?”

“My da…” I shake my head, fury building. “My dad knows this apartment is mortgaged because he’s the reason why.”

He turns his head, dragging his nose down Phoebe’s face. “Then it looks like we’ll be keeping your sister.” Dark eyes snap to mine.

I didn’t know what he was doing with her. My stomach turned thinking about it. What I did know was that I couldn’t let it continue. “Take me.” If it meant she was safe, I would go with them willingly. I didn’t care what they did to me as long as they let her go.

Phoebe’s eyes grew wide. More tears spilled down her cheeks as her head shook. “Poppy, no.”

I ignored her. “Take me, and let her go.”

The man tilted his head, looking me over from head to toe. “Or I could take you both. Your dad says you’re a dancer. I bet you’re real flexible.”

Bile rose in my throat. “I don’t know what my dad has to do with anything, or why you have my sister, but if you let her go, I can get you the deed.”

He growled, moving his arms until they were wrapped around Phoebe’s neck. “How about you tell me, or I snap her neck and take you, anyway?

“Then you’ll never get what you want.”

“You said it was mortgaged. How do you plan to get it?”

“My boyfriend. He has the deed. There wasn’t much left, so he bought the debt, and I’m paying him back.”

His jaw worked back and forth. Anger clouded his eyes.

He wanted to call my bluff. Except I wasn't bluffing. His lips curled, and his nostrils flared. “Fine,” he practically spat the words. He twisted Phoebe’s face toward his, absolute cruelty marring his already disgusting face. “I was done with her, anyway.”

He shoved her away, and she hit the floor with a whimper. My heart ached. She looked so frail, no doubt from spiraling deeply into her addiction, that I feared she would break.

“I’ll need your phone to send him a message.” I insisted, hoping he would give me the phone so I could call the police.

“Not a chance. If this boyfriend exists, he’ll come looking.

” He turned his beady, cold gaze on Phoebe.

“You’ll stay here and give him the message.

” He tossed a phone at her. “Have him call me on that. If you don’t, your sister will die.

” He turned back toward me, a wicked gleam dancing in his eyes.

“In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy breaking you.

” He gripped my face and dragged his tongue across my cheek, then jerked his head toward the door. “Let’s go.”

***

My lids slowly peel open as I return to consciousness. Misery sweeps through my body like a tsunami. I turn my head back, trying to see where I am through the darkness. If the scent of motor oil and gasoline means anything, I have to assume I’m in a garage.

My mind becomes a maelstrom of turmoil, working to remember where I am and how I got here. Thunder booms against my ribs. Oxygen refuses to enter my lungs.

Don’t fucking panic, Poppy. Think.

My deep inhale is like fire spreading through my chest, making me wonder how long I’ve been here. I breathe in and out, forcing my racing heart to slow and my mind to focus.

It takes a few more breaths, but it finally comes to me. Phoebe, my apartment…the strange men asking for the deed.

The last thing I remember is climbing into the backseat of an older sedan, curling my nose at the disgusting smell of body odor and sex, choking back my gag reflex.

The guy with the slicked hair slid in next to me, and my skin prickled with wrongness.

It took a lot of effort to stay still, unaffected, when he reached for me.

A sharp stick in my arm. Dizziness. The feeling of floating. Then…

Nothing.

Those assholes drugged me. How long was I out? What did they do to me?

My skin starts to crawl, a shudder wracking my body, causing more pain. Why am I in so much pain?

Don’t go there, Poppy. You’re still dressed, and everything feels…

Metal crashes and bright lights fill the room, making my eyes hurt. Two figures walk in and make their way toward me. I recognize the greasy asshole from earlier, but it’s the man with him that makes me lose my breath. “Dad?”

“Hey, sweetheart. How’s my tiny dancer been all these years? You look good.”

My mouth drops. I knew the two assholes who had Phoebe—who brought me here—kept referring to him, but I figured he was being held at gunpoint or something. My imagination ran wild, but it didn’t fathom he’d walk in here, chatting me up with a smile.

A hazy, impaired smile.

And my anger skyrockets.

“Are you joking? I look good? I’m lying on fucking concrete in the dark.

” I try to lunge but get nowhere. Chains rattle with a growl, holding me in place.

I look behind me and see the heavy metal bound to a piece of machinery, while the other end is latched to a makeshift cuff around my ankle. “Why do you owe them money, Dad?”

“They’re bad people, Poppy. I’m trying to watch out for myself.”

“By using your daughters? What did he do to Phoebe?”

He scratches the back of his neck, his eyes downcast, almost in remorse, but when he looks at me, I see none. I think he might be trying, but he’s too far gone on whatever he’s on. “Phoebe was trying to help her old man. We didn’t do anything to her. She did it to herself.”

My heart aches because this is not the man I remember growing up.

He was a great dad. Loving, kind, and supportive always.

Though I lost all respect for him years ago for abandoning us, I’ve tried everything to cling to the memories of the man of my childhood.

The man who tucked us in at night. That told the worst jokes.

I hate that man doesn’t seem to exist anymore.

“Is that why she looked terrified?” I demand.

“She always was dramatic.” He rolls his eyes so hard, I almost expect him to start seizing.

“We needed the deed to the apartment, that’s all.

When she went to the bank to get it, they told her no.

So she got what money she could. Na?ve girl.

She should’ve known it wasn’t enough. Not when that apartment is worth millions now.

Maybe Brett here scared her a little, but he didn’t hurt her. He’s been taking good care of her.”

“Again, why do you owe them money?” I demand.

He looks at the man standing next to him and shrugs.

“I don’t owe them money. I promised them a cut if they got me that deed.

The person I owe money to is getting impatient.

He’s tired of waiting for me to come up with what I owe him.

So I figured I’d give him the deed to the apartment, pay off my debt, and he’d give me the difference.

He threatened to kill me, sweetheart. What was I supposed to do? ”

Undiluted rage floods my veins. It’s potent and palpable.

If I weren’t bound, I’d rip his fucking heart out.

“How about not hurting Phoebe? Me?” I lunge again, stopping so violently it feels as if my ankle nearly ripped from my body.

“We’re your fucking daughters. You’re supposed to protect us.

Not sacrifice us. I’ve been killing myself to pay the debt Nana had because of you , and all you can think of is yourself. ”

“No one is getting sacrificed, Poppy. I just need the deed to the apartment.”

“We’re waiting for her little boyfriend to go looking for her. Phoebe is still there with instructions for him to call.”

“Boyfriend.” He raises a brow, folding his arms over his chest. “I’m not sure I like the idea of you having a boyfriend.”

“Those drugs must be phenomenal if you think I give a single fuck what you like. You are nothing to me.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, sweetheart. It was never my intention to hurt you.”

“Oh, my God! Stop saying that. Of course you hurt me, you jackass. You dumped Phoebe and me at our grandparents’ and barely showed your face again.

You left us! Mom died, then you left us!

And now this? You’ve actually lost your mind if you believe anything you’re saying.

” A sad, resigned sigh passes from my lips as I exhale my frustration.

The vacant look in his eye tells me everything.

He doesn’t understand what I’m talking about.

He’s simply too far gone, lost in delusions and substance.

“Can you at least unchain me? I don’t understand why I’m like this in the first place when I came voluntarily. ”

My father’s eyes narrow, his brow dipping as he examines me. “Of course,” he mutters, as if only now realizing I’m chained to something. He looks at the other man and jerks his head.

Before the guy can move, a shrill ring cuts through the air. He digs into his pocket and pulls out an old flip phone like the one he gave Phoebe and answers it.

“Hello, Loverboy. You’re gonna wanna listen real close to what I have to say.”

As he gives Jagger the instructions, all the color drains from my face. My stomach flips. Nausea swells in my throat, bile rising with it.

There’s no way Jagger would do that.

He can’t .

It’s ludicrous to even think it.

“That’s not what we agreed on,” Dad says when the guy hangs up. “We need the deed. Not money.”

“That’s not what we agreed on,” my dad snaps once the man hangs up. “We need the deed . Not money.”

The man tilts his head, his beady eyes narrowing. He strokes the scruff on his chin with a dirty hand.

“There’s been a change of plans,” he says. “I might’ve been dipping into the profits. If the boss finds out, I’m dead.” He shrugs, unconcerned, and reaches behind him. “The cash will help me disappear.”

When his arms swing back around, he’s holding a pistol.

I gasp.

“Sorry, old man,” he says with no remorse. “But I can’t afford to share. And we can’t have you blabbing.”

My father hits the ground before he can say a word.

And my scream tears through the air .