Page 22 of Under Your Scars

“What will you do once you know who I am?”

“Easy. I’m going to collect that one-million-dollar reward for turning you in to the police.”

I can tell that he’s got a smirk painting his lips from the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

Before he steps onto the fire escape outside my window, he blows me a kiss from behind his mask.

“Until next time, angel.”

CHAPTER 6

THE ANGEL

I haven’t seen the Silencer since our last emotionally charged meeting when he gave me the tracking device that now sits around my ankle.

Ever since he gave it to me, I’ve found myself becoming more aware of my surroundings. I think I’m trying to catch him following my every move, to find a reason to be upset at him, but the stupid anklet actually gives me some semblance of security—like I’ve got my own personal bodyguard on speed-dial.

I take a break halfway through my shift at the Hellfire Lounge like I normally do, and when I put my phone back into my purse, I hear Frank’s voice behind me. “Hey, pretty Ellie.” He gives me that disgusting smile and wraps an arm around my shoulders as he drags me to an elevator. The panic in my chest rises even more, but I manage to suck in a breath of relief when the elevator goesupinstead of down.

We ride in silence, and the elevator door opens at the top. He leads me into a penthouse-like private lounge. It’s gaudy, with way too much gold covering the walls and floors. “Here’s the deal, Ellie. I like you a lot, and I’d like to give you a promotion. Two grand a night to be my personal bartender, plus tips.”

My blood runs cold. “Actually, Frank…” I fumble over my words, “I was hoping I could, you know, move on? I don’t think this job is for me.”

The words were hard to get out, but once they’re in the air, he pauses, turning to face me directly. The look on his face tells me that leaving is not something people do here. Especially not girls like me.

The girls he wants.

I try to bring an innocent grin to my face, like I don’t know what tonight will eventually lead to.

Frank’s friends, the five that never stop looking at me, are here already. They greet me in unison, calling me‘pretty Ellie’and it almost makes me hate the nickname I’ve had since I was a child.

All five order a whiskey on the rocks. Easy. Simple. The private bar in the space is huge, and the smooth jazz is a welcome break from the obnoxious techno that plays downstairs. Balancing the glasses on a tray, I try to appear sexy as I saunter over to them.

I give a shy smile as I hand them their drinks. One of them stuffs a hundred-dollar bill so far down my bra that he grazes my nipple with it. I gulp and try to hide the uncomfortable shiver. As I hand the last man his glass, I hear Frank’s footsteps come to a stop directly behind me, and his cold hand smacks my ass so hard I drop the empty tray and fall across the lap of one of his friends. They all laugh at me, and I blush, embarrassed as I stand back up and turn around.

Frank rubs a thin finger from my waist to my chest, and then lifts my chin with a too-long fingernail so that I have to look him in the eyes.

“Bet those pretty brown eyes would look even prettier if you were on your knees,” he hisses. I suck in a shaky breath and Frank laughs, very lightly slapping my cheek. “Whiskey.”

I walk to the bar to silently pour his drink. It doesn’t take me but a second, preparing it like I would any other. I smile politely when I hand it to him, and he takes a sip. He glances up at me from behind the glass.

“Ellie,” he says, and the hairs on the back of my neck rise in high alert at his poisonous tone. He soundsfurious. “Ellie, baby, there’s a small box on the bar top. Bring it to me.” I do as he says as quickly as I can without tripping over my own two feet. When I bring it to him, he sits up slightly in his chair and motions for me to stand in front of him. My legs feel heavy as I do. When I’m in front of him, he gives me further instructions. “Get on your knees and face away from me.”

I hesitate, and he takes his whiskey glass and throws the amber liquid in my face. I gasp in shock as the cold ice falls over my body.

“Did I fucking stutter?”

I kneel so fast my bones groan against the cold floor, and I turn to face his friends like he said. They’re all reveling in my humiliation. I try not to cry, but I’ve accepted that I’ve gotten myself into deep shit.

Frank gathers my hair in a tight fist and wraps something around my neck. The men watching all smile at me and Frank tugs on the back of my head so that I’m forced to look up at the ceiling. I start to hyperventilate when I hear a jingling at my throat.

He’s fastened a fuckingleasharound my neck.

“Vic?”

A man, Vic, hands him a knife that he promptly waves in my face. “Now, Ellie, I’m going to let you off easy because it’s your first night up here, and you’re just so,sopretty. I don’t like ice in my whiskey.”

“Please, Mr. Valenti, I’m so sorry,” I beg with tears streaming down my face, my neck aching from his hold on me. “I’ll remake it. I’ll—”