The Vengeful Daughter

By E.M Hardwick

Death does funny things to a person; some get sad, some get depressed and some even go into denial.

Elle isn't your average high school student dealing with death; she's the student with top grades, she gambles with the lives of the best friends she’s always wanted and has more money in the bank than any one person can count. She also has a thirst for the blood of those who killed her family on

• Language: English
• Publisher: E.M Hardwick
• Release date: Feb 20, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301325467

E.M Hardwick

I'm forever dreaming. I've always been in my own world, even when I know reality is passing me by, I still day dream.Writing, for me, is a hobby - a passion. I don't take it for granted and never does a day go by where I'm not writing.I guess...I'm an optimist - That's probably why I self-published.

Book preview

Prologue

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Time. It’s the one thing that cannot be measured. Time slipped by, slipped through our fingers and distanced itself deep into our past. I don’t understand what people mean when they say that time heals all wounds…because it doesn’t. Time does not heal my wounds, it does not comfort me when I need comfort, it doesn’t erase my memories and my fear, and it sure as hell doesn’t give me hope.

I don’t understand how life can carry on, how time can tick and how the days and nights all merge into a blur. Every stroke of the hand, every movement of the dial and descending of the sun just reminds me that time holds us in no regards and ticks continuously anyway. But even though time still ticks, I’m still stuck. I’m stuck on October 7th 2001—the day I watched them being dragged along the floor, dragged through the house and into the living room. I watched as they were beaten, bloodied and shot dead. I remember the fear, the panic, the anger and fury. I remember it all. I never forget.

Chapter One

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Ellieeeee! Wait up! I heard my name being called out in the distance but I didn’t react to the voice. I kept my head down and walked towards my locker. Term had started, final year of high school. I could almost feel the euphoria amongst the seniors. This was our year, our last year, and we would go out with a bang!

Bang!

A heavy thud against my back sent me crashing into the lockers.

Oh my God! I'm sorry, Elle! Holly apologized hysterically.

Yeah, okay, I groaned as I pushed myself away from the lockers. No harm, no foul. I turned to face the bubbly force of joy that knocked me; a warm smile spread across my face. Holly! I grabbed her fiercely and hugged her tight. I’ve missed you so much! The last time I had seen her was before she and her family set off for vacation in Barbados. Of course, we had talked nearly every single day, but there was something about the happiness that radiated her, it wasn’t something you could feel over the phone.

I...can't...breathe. She gasped, her arms flailing by her side.

I let go reluctantly. Sometimes it was hard to let go.

Sorry! I just missed you so much. Summer was no fun at all, not one bit without you. I moaned.

I'm sorry, babe. My dang parents took this whole, air quote, bonding trip seriously. They confiscated my phone, my laptop and even my IPod! Can you believe that? She scoffed incredulously, but her smile reappeared, taking the look of annoyance off her fresh face. But, she trailed off as she fiddled with her oversized Chanel handbag, I got you a gift. She trilled.

I clapped my hands. Yay, gifts! Better be something good enough to make up for being alone for nearly two months! I held my hands out to her. Holly’s blue eyes glittered as she dropped a little purple velvet box into them.

Open it now. She ordered. It took no more asking; my nimble fingers plied open the little box.

Oh my…

I gasped, as if the wind had been knocked out of me. My grip on the little velvet box tightened. My lips twitched, almost threatening to quiver. Slowly, I looked back and forth from my best friend and the little box that held a part of my past. My eyes widened. I could feel the weird sensation around my orbs, alerting me to the fact that they would moisten any second now. My heart jumped in my chest.

There it was, that tug; the pull of muscles, tissues and other organs caving onto my heart and squeezing for dear life. I tried never to leave myself open to feeling like this, like I was being assaulted with my emotions, because sometimes, it left me paralyzed. And right now, I was left slightly breathless. It was a constant reminder that I was not like Holly. I was nothing like her at all.

Holly, I whispered. My fingers closed the box carefully, taking in just one more fleeting look at the rose charm before my arms flew around her again. I held on tight, enough for her to breathe but slightly more tightly than normal. She would never know the truth behind my fierce embrace.

"Now that was the reaction I was looking for." She rubbed my back, as if comforting me. I felt her shake with laughter; the sound was like music to my ears. Holly pulled out of the embrace and reluctantly, I let go. The moisture in the eyes didn't form to tears—they rarely did anymore, but my gratitude was evident on my face.

What Holly had given me meant more than she would ever know; the flowery charm was one of a kind. Only four were made in the world, all made by my dad before he and the rest of my family were killed. My dad was a jeweler, not the filthy rich kind but the kind who lived very comfortably. It was my mother who had been the wealthy one in the family.

Their deaths so young in my life forced me to deal with the fact that I would never be close to them again. The charms I had in my possession and the ones that were left for me were all I had left of him. For nearly two years, I had made it a mission to retrace all the sold charms and buy them back. I had succeeded in most of my mission but the flower charm was one I had to admit would never be mine....until five minutes ago when Holly had given it to me. Just one more charm to go and I would have put together the last pieces of work my father had worked on before his death.

Thank you so much. It’s beautiful. Where did you get it?

This guy was selling it in an antiques store. I begged dad to buy it because my allowance wasn't going to stretch that far, she frowned slightly. I promised I'd pay him back by working for him. She screwed her face in annoyance before sighing. I’ve screwed myself over but the look on your face has made it worth it.

Thanks. I lifted my lips into a half smile and deposited the box safely into my satchel where it would be safe until I got home and locked it up with the others.

So how was your summer? Get yourself a boyfriend yet?

I'd known Holly since we were seven, and since we were seven she had tried to persuade me to double date, to be her 'wing woman'; she'd tried to, unsuccessfully, set me up on blind dates with friends, and at one point she thought I was a lesbian and tried to set me up with a girl from the year above.

That was Holly, ever the optimist.

I sighed and rolled my eyes, making sure she saw before I turned to the lockers and transferred some of the heavier items from my bag. If I kept silent she would get bored and jump onto another topic quickly. Or so I had hoped.

Elle Mathias, don't ignore me, she nudged as she went to her own locker beside mine. I bet you did hook up and don't want to tell me. I bet you had loads of sex and now you're a slut and too ashamed to admit it to me.

Yep, that's right. I'm your regular whore. I turned to wink at her.

Who's a whore? Asked the thundering voice behind us. Holly scared easily so she jumped away. I knew better so I turned to hug the boy behind me.

I'm the whore. Did you not guess that I was having rampant sex all summer? I asked nonchalantly. I heard Matt snort.

Yeah and I just found out that I was the King of America. I guess we both had eventful summers. I could just imagine him rolling his eyes.

Matthew Logan. He was my other best friend; I met him and Holly on the same day when I was transferred to Boston to a care home when I was seven. I remember that day very well, the day I met Holly and Matt. Well, it was Matt I met first. It was his hug that got me hooked. He walked right up to me on my very first day and hugged me. If it hadn’t been for the fact that being in his arms was the first time I had felt calm in a long while, I would have recoiled.

But I was glad I didn’t because now, Matt’s hugs were the best thing in the world—second only to food. I loved food.

I missed you! A lot! I sighed into his chest, breathing in and letting my arms feel him. I really had missed him and his embrace. It was one of the things that I knew I could not live without, and up until this summer, I hadn’t gone without.

Me too! Holly chirped as she joined our hug.

And I missed the both of you. He chuckled.

And what was your excuse for not coming to see me all summer? Phone calls just don’t cut it, Matt. I moved out of his hug and crossed my arms, waiting. Matt blushed.

My mom made me her model all summer. I had old ladies fawning over me. It was gross. He stated, matter of factly. Holly and I turned to look at each other before we both laughed at the exact time the first bell rang for homeroom. What? I can't help it if women think I'm cute! He muttered as we fought through the crowds of students.

Yeah and Elle really is a slutbag! Holly scoffed.

It was no secret that I was a virgin; I hadn't had a boyfriend and my first kiss was yet to be claimed....

It's getting old now. I muttered, grimly, as we walked up the stairs to the first floor.

It will never get old until I get you laid, girl! Holly laughed. I wonder if Daniel is still up for hooking up. I mean, you cannot graduate a virgin. She mocked.

Give it up, Holly; it really is getting annoying now. Matt moaned. I don't want to hear another word on getting laid.

Matt had suffered a broken heart before school ended last term. Stacy, his girlfriend of all four months, decided she was better off with a guy from the football team. His broken heart gave me pain, actual physical pain. The strong sense of the heartache I felt the day he was dumped left me seething with murderous rage. I had wanted nothing more than to rip her hair out, one by one, or at least pierce her heart so that it was as deflated as Matt’s.

I'm sorry, munchkin. Holly launched herself on to his back. He carried her weight easily as his hands went to support her thighs. She squeezed his cheeks. We can find you a rebound soon enough. We're seniors! And we're HOT! She said loud enough for the crowd to hear. Cheers across the crowd surfaced until we reached the classroom.

I turned to face Holly and Matt and wiggled my eyebrows. You guys ready to be seniors? I asked with a proud smile.

They both replied. Hell yeah.

We were the last ones to get to class; our seats at the back were empty. I noticed Mr. Moran wasn't here already. That was strange; Mr. Moran was one for timekeeping. Tradition reigned supreme in our school, everyone had their comfort zones and I was glad they did. I hated sitting so close to the front. I liked the emptiness at the back and the feeling that for once, my back wasn’t being watched. As we walked to our seats, I caught some of the chatter amongst the other students. I dropped my satchel to the floor, sat down and pressed forward against the table discretely. Harriet, the gossip girl in front, was talking animatedly with her neighbor. She talked in hushed tones; any other person would have struggled to hear, but I had no problem.

....I don't know but I heard that it was pretty gruesome. Poor Mr. Moran. I hope they catch the jerks that did this to him.

Yeah, me too.

Mr. Moran is hurt?

My instincts had my fists ball up as I scanned the room quickly but discretely. In my peripheral vision I could see Holly and Matt talking amongst themselves to my left, the one seat to my right always stayed empty. I counted the heads of the students in the class; it was the same as last year. No new faces, no surprises. A paper ball flew past me from the left; I turned to see Holly and Matt looking confused and annoyed.

Please don't tell me you're going to be like this again. All year! Holly moaned. I shot her a confused look.

Like what?

Elle, please. You're always like this, contemplating God knows what.

I knew what she was talking about. I was always on my guard, always thinking, always contemplating.

I am not like that. I feigned hurt.

At least tell us you're going to act as if you're happy to be seniors. Matt piped in.

I don't know what you guys are talking about but I can assure you guys, I'm psyched that this is the last year I ever see any of these guys again. I joked, jerking my head to the rest of the class. I heard a few 'heys' from the other students but it was one student in particular that caught my attention. Colin, a jock, and two of his football buddies walked towards us. In my peripheral vision, I caught Matt’s hands as they balled up into fists; the look of rage settled on to his features. Colin smirked as he parked his ass on the edge of my desk.

You shouldn't be so happy to see the last of me. We're supposed to get married, remember? Colin smirked.

Colin, he was the walking cliché. Blond hair, blue eyes, tall and good looking. He usually had the head cheerleader dangling off his arm, but today, he was without—which was a good thing because I had already gotten a whiff of Matt’s pain today. Stacy would do herself no favors by acting her annoying little bimbo self around me.

Oh Colin, you know I'm going to miss you the most. I replied sarcastically, but I lacked the venom behind the words. I played a role in high school; even though I disliked the boy, I always remembered that I had to play the role.

I know you are, baby. Stay close this year, who knows what might happen. He winked and walked off with his buddies.

Matt stared after them in disgust; he hated Colin with a passion, not least because he really was that cliché douchebag that every high school had, but because Stacy had chosen Colin over him. It surprised me that high school could have so many walking clichés but yet, here they were, walking the halls.

I can't stand that guy. Matt gritted out between his teeth.

Neither can I. Holly agreed with disgust.

Well, you guys can be rest assured that I dislike him too and have no intention of marrying him after high school....but I might just do it if it shuts you up about getting laid. I teased.

Don't even joke about that, Elle! Matt spat. I tried hard to keep the grin off my face; I turned away so he didn't have to see it.

Anyway, guess what I heard, Elle, Holly threw another scrap piece of paper at me, hitting my face as I turned back towards them. I grimaced as she giggled. Whoops, sorry. But listen. I heard that Mr. Moran got mugged and beaten to within an inch of his life yesterday. Apparently, he handed in his resignation before term started.

This news wasn't a surprise to me because of what I had heard earlier on, but they didn't know that I knew so I feigned surprise. Oh, really?

Yeah. I heard he had all his bones broken, every single one of them.

I raised a brow. He wouldn't be alive if all two hundred and six bones in his body was broken, Holly. I corrected.

She blew a raspberry at me. Know it all.

I wonder who the substitute is going to be. I mused, quietly.

Robert Pattinson. Holly sighed.

Jessica Alba. Matt drooled.

I shook my head and tutted. You guys know better than to let your inhibitions rule you. People in this class will use it against you, you know.

I bet you wish he was fit. Holly snickered. You're inhibitions are clear young one; you want a sub that can deflower you!

That's just vile, Holly. Not everyone likes to screw every living organism. Stop being so crude! I snapped.

You know you love it!

At the exact moment she laughed, Mr. Smith, our Gym teacher walked in with his coffee cup and morning paper.

Class! He demanded our attention immediately. Holly giggled quietly.

Damn, well there goes that plan.

Mr. Smith, our gym teacher, was our substitute for just one week. He made it clear that he did not tolerate tardiness nor did he appreciate being talked over. A couple of the students had earned detention for doing just that within the first twenty minutes. Mr. Smith also made it clear that he was glad he didn't have to take over as homeroom tutor for the year, that he was missing his gym and that he also thought that Biology sucked. See, not only was Mr. Moran our homeroom tutor, he was also the Biology and Chemistry teacher too. As Mr. Smith checked the register, I checked my timetable. Every class I had was AP, but it made no difference to me what class I was in, as long as Matt and Holly were in it with me; lucky for me they were AP all the way too. High school would be over soon enough. I wouldn't have to worry about classes and rosters as soon as summer came around.

A paper airplane flew onto my desk; I opened it up and read:

You're looking glum again. Don't worry whore bag, I just heard Mitch was single again ;P

I turned to glare at Holly but the tongue she stuck out made me roll my eyes.

This was going to be a long year.

At lunch we convened at our usual table, surrounded by the usual faces; Danielle, Sam, Mark, Sophie and Rory completed our lunch crew. Granted, I tried not to get too involved with anyone apart from my two best friends, but to fulfill the persona of the average high school student meant that I had to blend in.

So what did you do this summer, Elle? Mark had asked the same question to everyone else and evidently it was my turn. I had listened carefully to everyone's responses as I ate my fries. Danielle and Sam spent the summer with their dad in Arizona. Mark had gone to Europe with his parents and Sophie and Rory had gone with them. They had asked if I wanted to tag along but I refused politely. I realized they were all staring at me, waiting for an answer so I shrugged.

Nothing.

Of course you did nothing. You had near enough nine weeks off from school and you're telling me you did nothing? He questioned.

I nodded. That is exactly what I'm saying.

In the eyes of the law, I was emancipated. I ‘worked’ to support myself. I owned and lived in my own home, owned my own car and had money in the bank. I was as equal an adult as any other. But I had no family to vacation with, to talk with when I was at home or hang out with. I was as alone as a person could be.

Well, not really.

True. I wasn’t really alone, ever. The thought comforted me every day, and I was thankful for it.

Why are you so evasive? Mark asked impatiently.

I rolled my eyes. He wouldn't give up; he tended not to when he didn't get his own way. I worked all summer. There, you happy?

You're such an oldie, Elle. Anyone would think you're an adult. Matt teased. I couldn't care less if they thought I was old. I turned eighteen in a few months but it made no difference to me. I ripped off a piece of my burger, lathered it in ketchup and threw it at him.

Hey! He shrieked as the bread made contact with his nose.

Not such an oldie now, am I?

Holly swiftly moved the conversation away onto another topic, saving me from the onslaught of tomato bread that Matt would have thrown at me. I let my head rest on Matt’s shoulder and waited before his arms went around me to bury myself even closer.

It was a nice feeling, belonging somewhere. Even if it wasn't to last forever...this was where I belonged. Just for now.

The day went by pretty quick. It never ceased to amaze me how I always felt normal whenever I was around Matt and Holly. They messed around, pretended they were royalty, sucked on candy until their mouths turned blue and pretended they were aliens. I never felt comfortable enough to fool around with them, but I watched comfortably as they did. To my embarrassment, I was an easy blusher. It didn't help that I had creamy skin that refused to tan in the sun. As a child I was nicknamed 'strawberries and cream' because of the comparison to my skin and blush. I used to hate it when Damien and Dylan, my older brothers, teased me on a daily basis. They were just memories now; the thought was painful.

When the last bell went, Holly and Matt promptly grabbed each of my hands and pulled me away from my car in the parking lot.

Hey! I tried to shake them off.

Don't tug, Elle; just go with it. You're always working or going home or doing homework. Hang out with us. Matt begged, fluttering his barely there eyelashes. Please.

I can't, I'm sorry. I have things I need to do.

Ellie... Holly began to whine.

Hollieeeee. I mocked in the same whiney voice. Their grips tightened around my hands. I wanted to laugh; I could easily slip out of their grip in an instant. Sure, I would have bruises if their grips got tighter, but pain was a friend on my side. I rarely felt pain. They tugged me along, away from my blue Mustang to Matt's silver Prius.

Guys! I locked my legs so they straightened and wouldn't move unless they wanted to drag me along the ground. As much as I love the both of you, I really have to get home. I have things I need to do.

But Elle—

But nothing, Matt. They looked so depressingly sad. I felt my heart falter. They dropped my hands and I folded them across my chest. I wouldn't be open to anymore hand tugging. It's only Monday, the first day of school, guys! We have the rest of the school year to hang out. I pointed out to them.

Elle, you're such a spoilsport. Matt mumbled as he unlocked his Prius and shoved his bag to the back seat.

Whatever. I'll phone you babies later tonight. I sauntered backwards. And hey, absence makes the heart grow fonder. I winked. Both stuck their tongues out. I laughed all the way back to my car and waited until the car park was near on empty before pulling out and driving home.

Growing up I learnt a lot of lessons, fast.

1. Trust only a few 2. Run fast 3. Fight back

I learnt most of the lessons the day they died, the day they were killed. I learned that crying solved nothing; it didn’t bring them back and it sure as hell didn’t make me feel any better. But growing up in foster care, being taunted and bullied and beaten by other children and sometimes even adults left me drained and fragile.

The only thing I was happy about was that I met Matt and Holly. The day I met Matt and Holly was the day I felt calm; that was the reason why they were my life. I needed them to keep me calm. I never revealed anything to them; I kept them separate to my ‘other’ life. They didn't need to know a past I didn't want to bring up.

When I turned sixteen, I inherited my mother's fortune and my dad's empire. I legally emancipated myself from the State when I began ‘working’ for the legacy that was my dad's jeweler firm. But I didn’t work—not really anyway. I let the long established manager take care of that for me, and I checked in every month or two. Matt and Holly still knew nothing about who I really was, where I lived and what my bank balance was like...not that they would care. That was another reason I loved them unconditionally—I was sure they’d love me the same way back regardless.

I drove fast in the car that had once belonged to my twin brothers and pulled up to a five story town house. It wasn't the home I grew up in; Boston was no Alaska, but this was the first house my parents had bought together. Before I moved in, it was desolate, empty and left in the exact same condition that it was in when the property was sold. A few days after my inheritance came through, I bought the house. It was mine. I only bought it because it gave me that connection of familiarity and home. At the time, I needed to be closer to everything I had lost, and since I couldn’t go back to Alaska and leave Matt and Holly, this house seemed a reasonable second choice.

My cell phone buzzed as I walked up the steps to the front door. I looked at the text that had come through; a knowing hard smile appeared on my face. I called the sender back as I pushed through the massive front door and shut the world out.

You got the text? I heard him ask.

Yeah. I talked as I walked through the corridor to the door underneath the stairs; it was the entrance to the basement—the only place where I could hide what I needed the world not to know.

I want to say good luck, but you definitely don't need it. Jeremy chuckled without humor.

No, I don't. I replied back to my informant.

Like I said, you don't need it...but they do. A dark undertone took over his voice. Break a leg for me.

It has to be done.

I'll break both.

Time. It could not be measured. It ticked every second, of every hour, of every day, but gave me no comfort at all. For years, I was naïve enough to believe that I could count on time to heal my wounds…but it didn’t. I was still wounded, hurt and a shadow of the person I could’ve been. And it was all because of that day in October. I remembered it all; the pain, the fury and the anger. I never forget.

Chapter Two

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There was a purpose—the purpose. It was the answer to the broken bones, the lacerations and the bruises that I had endured over the last few years. Three years in fact. The day I picked up a gun with a purpose was the day I lost a little bit of my humanity. I wasn’t a girl anymore...I was a woman seeking revenge. I wanted the blood of my family’s killers on my hands. I wanted the red liquid to stain my palms before I washed it away like a bad memory. I wanted it no matter the cost...even if it killed me.

Maybe I had turned out like this because of my childhood. Or maybe it was the aftermath of their deaths. I was taken into care and suffered greatly. I had no one. I was seven years old when they died and even though I grew up, part of me stayed in that room with their dead bodies, just waiting for them to come back to me. It was my fault...my fault entirely. I should have been better prepared. I should have realized that life was just one big disappointment after another. I shouldn’t have been shocked when I was treated with contempt in foster care. No one wanted the child with behavioral issues. No one wanted the child who screamed when she slept.

I was alone.

Well, not really.

A shining beacon of hope reached out to me a few months after I was sent to Boston; my own personal ray of sunshine. Jeremy. He was my informant. He was there for me. A few months after I was taken into care, I was given some of my parent’s possessions; my dad’s wallet, my brothers’ shirts and my mother’s cell phone. It was on that cell phone that I had occupied a lot of my time with. It was an escape that I could delve into whenever I had been beaten so badly that I could barely talk to anyone. The day I answered the cell phone after fleeing from another brutal beating by an older kid was the day my life changed—for the better. I still don’t know how he got the number. I still don’t know if he meant for me to pick up, but the truth was...I don’t care. Jeremy saved me. He was the reason for my living. Without him, I was nothing. He was there to calm me down. He promised he would help me. He comforted me, told me to stop crying and to wipe away my tears whenever I was hurt, and told me to remember the pain because I would need to tap into it soon.

And I did. I tapped into it the moment I fought back.

I waited until five o’clock before I got ready to leave the house. I grabbed the essentials I always carried: my license—fake of course, knuckle duster, a few extra plasters and bandages, hair ties and bobby pins and an old cell phone. I never carried a purse; I only took what I could carry on my person. I changed into black jeans, black tank top and leather jacket; my biker boots completed the look. For the recon I was going on, and others like it, I wanted to visually look like another person, so I donned a cropped black wig and gothic style makeup. Every recon mission had a different alias attached to it. If ever I did use an alias twice, I made sure to leave a significant amount of time so that no one would recognize them…and I never took risks. Being caught was a nightmare that I couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

I set the alarms on the house before I exited through the back door, through the garden and to the garage at the end. I had the resources necessary to be doing what I was doing and I took advantage of it all. I lifted the shutters and smiled at my little beauty before me; my white Ducati. I wasn’t legally able to drive the thing, but legality got thrown out the window when I wanted something, and still, I had my fake ID for any unexpected stops.

I arrived in New York within a few hours. My destination was a back alley underworld club—members only. I had Jeremy pull the members list and add my name to it with a picture of one of my many aliases, Hartley Cross. If anyone asked, Hartley Cross was the daughter of a Laundromat worker and café owner. She was the beauty that walked the nights with a purpose—that was story if anyone asked…but no ever did, so no one would ever know. I was confident I wouldn’t be questioned. I didn’t look seventeen; I looked closer to twenty one.

I parked my Ducati seven blocks away and walked to the club on foot. If there was trouble, I would run to the bike to make my getaway. I parked far because I ran very fast and would have no trouble losing anyone chasing me.

The further I walked, the more the scenery changed and the atmosphere changed too. It was darker now and very few people walked the streets. Litter flew in the air with the wind and sirens blared in the very far distance. I took each footstep with my hands down by my side, in loose fists. My hearing worked in overdrive as I took the sounds in, trying to define them all. My eyes wandered, taking in the many desolate looking buildings, the men walking past me and the turn on the avenue that indicated there was an alley that would lead me directly to the club.

When I turned the corner, I could see the muscly men standing outside the entrance. They wore black suits and had ear pieces that connected to a security team, I guessed. They paid no attention to me as I walked. My eyes snapped to their hands, clipboard in their left and the right hand either stuffed into the pockets of their pants or down by their sides. I knew how I would disable them if I had to; their right hands were the strongest, making their left hand open to my assault if it came down to it. My instincts were always right and my calculations had never failed me so far. I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my leather jacket, popped my lips and tried to look as sultry as possible, swaying my hips in the process. I wanted to get into the bar with ease, and if I could show them that I was just a woman who couldn’t harm anything, it would play in my favor if there was trouble—and there would be. There was always trouble.

As one guard turned to face me, I saw his eyes pop. Men always had this reaction the first time they saw my alias, Hartley. It was something about this persona that grabbed their attention; that was why I used her, she always left them unsuspecting. I hadn’t used her in a while though. The last time I had used Hartley was two years ago in Baltimore. The men there had the same reaction too. I had gotten into a lot of trouble when I went to Baltimore. I ran away from the care home I was in for the mission, but they didn’t know that. Their assumption was that I was just being difficult. I was gone for a day and a half and when I came back, I was ‘grounded’ for three months. It was laughable; the thought of someone being able to contain me was laughable. Nothing could contain me.

Can I help you? The bouncer with bad acne scars asked, evidently pleased that I had walked up to him instead of his better looking partner. At five foot eight, I was still considerably short standing next to the giant.

Hartley Cross. I offered him my name with a seductive smile. He lost his train of thought.

Good.

I liked leaving men paralyzed; when I needed to knock them out, they were always too shocked to realize what was happening. His eyes turned reluctantly away to look at his clipboard.

Got any I.D?

I took the fake license out of my pocket and let my hand linger in his before leaving the card for him to check. He tensed under my touch. It didn’t take a genius to work out what he was thinking. I shuddered. I disgusted myself sometimes, but I always got over it if I had work to do. He handed the card back to me, this time letting his hands linger slightly on mine before I pulled back. He nodded to the other guard to open the door for me. I winked before I stepped inside. I heard his sharp intake of breath and rolled my eyes when he couldn’t see. Men and their weaknesses equaled to sex and the female species. I knew just how to play my role as an alias in a recon like this; it made the job easier...but more unbearable. However, I had limits; I hadn’t crossed them yet, but if I did…

As the door closed behind me, my sense of smell was assaulted instantly. Booze, cigars and weed was all I could smell, and this was just in the dull gray corridor. I heard the heavy bass of the music shaking the foundations of the building. I wondered instantly about the sound insulation, if the club was sound proof or not. It would make perfect sense if it was. The rumors were that gun fire occurred often in this place; I could only imagine the screams that came with the aftermath of gun fire.

I sighed to myself; I knew that scream pretty well.

I walked to the end of the corridor, up to the red curtains that hid the actual club. I looked back at the way I came in and noticed a handle bar that I could push easily if I needed to escape. I traced the ceiling with my eyes and found the sprinklers too. I pushed the heavy velvet curtains aside...and there it was: the infamous ‘Cross Fires Club’. I stood there, at the mouth of the massive room, feeding the information into my brain. Everywhere I looked, I saw people standing up, sitting down at the bar, and of course, there were gamblers with their gins at the poker tables. There were easily fifty men in the club, but the number of scantily clad women was probably greater. I ruled out some of the men as fighters; I could see no guns on their persons. Some looked too old for confrontation, but others, I mused, would fight dirty. I could feel the stares of a few of the men; some gave me fleeting looks as if I wasn’t important enough but others stared greedily as they took my face and figure in. This was going to be a long night.

My eyes fell onto the giant glass clock behind the bar: 21:42. Recon never lasted more than a few hours. I wanted to be gone by midnight.

Taking a few steps inside the club, I instantly regretted not waiting until I had searched for other exit and entry points. The place was definitely drearier than the other places I had staked out. When I had told the guys at school that I was working, I hadn’t lied. I was working… around the dirt holes of LA, trying to find some leads. But compared to some of the other places I had been to, this placed beat them to the spot on the world’s drabbest underworld hole. The decorator obviously had a field day when it came to choosing the many shades of black, gray and blood red.

Hey, sugar lips, want a sugar daddy? Two hands on my hips gripped tight as I was walked towards the bar. I turned and scrunched my nose in disgust; the smell of alcohol and sweat surrounded the dark haired man. His face was young, though I guess his years in places like this had aged him greatly.

Yeah, almost as much as I want aids. I spat. I tried not to breathe him in when he pulled me towards him - otherwise I would gag.

Now that wasn’t nice. You wanna think about it and answer me again? He snarled. He was drunk and of no use to me in his state. Usually, I would have used it to my advantage and teased him until I found a better offer...usually. Other times I found it hard to restrain myself from blowing my cover and beating the sexist pig until he bled.

I couldn’t do that here; I didn’t bring a gun.

I pushed out of his arms, but because he was so drunk, he stumbled back. You’re drunk; I can’t take advantage of you. What would everyone think of me? I pretended to joke but secretly my toes curled in disgust. He smiled, drunk, playfully.

I won’t tell if you don’t. He staged whispered, but I could tell he wouldn’t make another move unless I acted upon it.

No thanks, I walked backwards and winked. Another time. I let the seductive smile lift.

He pointed his fingers at me and bared his teeth. I’m going to hold you to that!

I turned around and felt that nauseating feeling creep up on me. I tried to push it aside but couldn’t get rid of it. I knew what was happening. The better side of me was telling me to leave, to run, and to stop this destructive mission—to grow up fast and give up any justice I planned to dish out was all the better side of me wanted. But it was overruled by the part that saw constant red.

OJ, please. I ordered at the bar.

Sure thing. The bartender replied without a smile. I sat and turned in my seat to observe the crowd, trying to spot what Jeremy had asked me to look out for—the tanned man in the coral shirt. I hoped fervently that no other man would be wearing the color, otherwise I’d have to abandon the mission. He was a lead that I was to be following, but the lighting in the club was so poor that I struggled to make out anything apart from the sequins and the crystals that the females wore.

I heard the bartender shove the bottle of OJ towards me. I had no intentions of drinking it. I was never sure of any foods and drink when out on my own, so I just brought the bottle to my mouth and pretended to take a sip, only letting the juice touch my closed lips before setting the bottle down. I was here for one reason and one reason only - to find the guy with the coral shirt and get what I want - another lead. I would get another lead until I got another, and another until all leads would…well, lead me to the source.

It wasn’t unusual for me to walk away from places like this in need of serious medical attention. I couldn’t avoid getting hurt, but the one thing I hated when fighting was getting hit or slapped in the face. Bruises on the face were harder to disguise than the ones on my body. It was hard to explain unexpected bruises and cuts to my face to Matt and Holly, let alone the rest of the population of school. I was commandeered into the principal’s office one time when I had managed to get new bruises as soon as the old ones began to yellow and fade. I lied, profusely, about falling down the stairs, running into doors and the like. They all thought I was clumsy; I laughed dryly to myself, if only they knew.

It was as I was surfing the crowds from my seat that I felt shivers down my back; the hairs on my arms stood on end. I snapped my head to the left and to the right slowly, making sure my movements didn’t register with anyone. My eyes went into overdrive. This was bad. I only ever got shivers when I knew my time would be up too soon. My eyes darted from the corners and crevices of the dark club, tracing outlines of the men sat down and the women who danced provocatively around them…until I met the eyes of a bystander in the corner. I was too far away to guess his age, but I could tell he was young. His eyes bore into mine, as if he was trying to tell me something. I turned away quickly; I saw all I need to see. The way he stood with fists by his side told me he was a fighter, a contender. His form wasn’t that of a body builder but of someone who fought. He was just another pawn that I would knock over if I had to.

The shades of coral walked into my line of vision at the right moment. Like a hunter hunting his prey, I zoomed in on him. I wondered how he would fight if he did fight back. The girls that followed him fawned over him. His ridiculous goatee made me laugh; how men thought that was attractive I didn’t know. He was tanned and a little on the skinny side; he wasn’t a fighter. My eyes trailed down to his belt and sure enough, there was his gun holster—revolver included. It wouldn’t be too hard to catch his attention, just gauge his eye and then…..

To my dismay he didn’t look around, not once. He sat with his gaggle of girls fawning over him, dancing for him. He looked pleased when they grinded against him.

Pathetic weasel, pathetic girls.

If only I could just get him to see that I was waiting for his attention, just as I could see that the guy in the corner waited for mine. The heavy gaze of the man in the corner was a little unnerving, but I shrugged away the curiosity as I waited for coral shirt to look at me. I looked down at my wrist watch to check the time…and groaned silently when I realized that I had spent the best part of an hour just sitting back and staring. When I looked up, my prey stared back at me.

Gotcha!

He beckoned me over to the sofa with his finger where he was surrounded by three minions and the girls. I slipped off the stool and swayed my hips as I walked.

Hi. I fluttered my lashes as I stood across from him. Mind if I sit down?

Please, He gestured towards the seat next to him. I held my breath as I came within dangerous proximity to his face when I squeezed past him to the seat. Nice to meet you. His eyes glittered and he sighed almost breathlessly as I accidently pressed myself to him before collapsing uncomfortably on the sofa. Hartley Cross was serving her purpose. I held his gaze and could almost feel the death glares being sent my way from the girls who huffed incredulously and began dancing for the other men.

I’m Calvin. He held his hands out.

Nice name. I shook his hand. I’m Hartley.

He took our hands to his lips. I resisted the urge to snatch my hands away and let his cold lips touch my hand. A bath - when I got home I would quickly take a bath and scrub every inch of my body, but pay specific attention to the hand that he now lowered.

It’s a nice night for a drink. He commented, taking a sip of his drink.

I shrugged. I don’t know about you...but my night suddenly got better. I could see his chest stagger its breaths.

Is that so?

I had him. Now, I just needed to get him alone...and drunk. I leaned into him to whisper into his ear. I knew the effect it would have on him and knew it would make him more susceptible to my suggestions, maybe into getting him alone.

Want to go somewhere quieter? I wasn’t surprised when he jumped up and held out his hand. I pushed myself off the chair slowly, as if to the beat of the music which had all but faded because all I heard was the hard thump of the adrenaline rushing through me. I took his sweaty hand, testing my patience and control. He led me out of the way, pushing past the over eager dancers and the poker tables. I had already started constructing a plan of action and had planned a route of escape. He stopped at the bar to ask the bartenders to stop any one coming in before we got to the room at the back, presumably a staff room.

Every underworld club had its own sense of style and I was slowly beginning to decide that either this interior was thrown together without thought or they wanted to let people think this was where the world stopped. I compared this hole to the one owned by the Morgan brothers in LA. It paled in comparison; at least in LA they bothered to add comfort.

Calvin let go of my hand as we entered a small lounge area. I noticed the windows instantly; we were on the ground floor, so when I escaped, I’d just have to smash it and run. I walked to the black leather sofa against the wall near the window as he walked to the bar and poured a scotch. I registered the wooden table had metal legs attached and immediately placed my hands in the back pockets of my jeans. I felt the metal knuckle duster safe and positioned it so that when I grabbed for it, it fit easily and quickly.

Drink?

Yeah. I leant back on the sofa, closed my eyes, taking a long breath in that made my back arch and chest pump forward; like a lamb to the slaughter, Calvin snickered.

Comfortable? he asked.

I opened my eyes to find him walking towards me with drinks. He sat opposite and leaned back after putting the drinks on the glass table. I am now.

How old are you?

Old enough.

He nodded. Hartley your real name? he asked.

Is Calvin really yours? I counteracted. Anything he could do, I could do better.

He shuffled closer on the sofa and I felt my heart race. He put his arms on the sofa, behind my head. So what brings you down here? This isn’t a place for a beautiful woman like you?

I smelt the alcohol on his breath and felt myself reach my limit of patience. I sat on my hands, my right hand going back to the pocket to fit my fingers in the knuckle duster.

I have my reasons, I shrugged, nonchalantly. What about you? You seem like a respectable guy; why are you here?

I’m here every night, his hands landed softly on my legs and trailed upwards before I stopped them. Cal moved forward and I could see what he thought he was going to achieve, he wanted to kiss me and no way was I going to let that happen. I put my hand on his chest and pushed him back, away from me.

Tut, Tut. I’m an innocent girl you’re trying to corrupt. I said playfully. I didn’t want to get a kiss at all and I still needed to get a lead. I wondered if he had anything on his person, besides his gun. Calvin shoved my hand away roughly and leaned in again, aiming for my lips. I slapped my hand on his chest again and pushed away. He snarled and jumped at me, holding me down on the sofa.

You wanted quieter, this is quiet! He spat.

He pressed his entire body onto mine as he forced his lips to my face, but I turned just before they came into contact with my lips so he kissed cheek instead. My hand pulled out from my back pocket but I still struggled to bring it forward. I tried to wiggle free as he pinned both arms at the shoulders making it a little difficult to bring my arm away from behind me.

Get off me!

What little girl? You scared of a little bit of action? He growled. He didn’t try to kiss me again but leaned in closer to laugh manically.

Get off me. I seethed quietly, I stopped moving, staying pinned under him. I wanted him to think that I wouldn’t fight back, as though he would actually get to have his way. He didn’t move away but was close enough that my breathing staggered a little. His hands would leave bruises for sure.

Say please.

No matter how hard I’m kept against my will, how tight I’m tied up, how upset I seem and how fragile I looked, if I had to protect myself I always did.

My arms broke from his grip fast, my right hand escaped from behind me and with as much force as I could muster, I brought it back near my head like a sling shot…and like a sling shot, I released a ball of fury. I felt my fist connect with his nose and the upper part of his mouth. I heard the definitive sound of his nose as it cracked. He cried out loudly. To add insult to his injuries, my knee came up quickly to his crotch. I felt him become unsteady and with one swift movement, using both hands, I threw him off me and onto the hard floor. The music was still blaring outside so his cries went unheard. I jumped off the sofa quickly and on top of him. I punched him again with more force, this time coming to contact with his right cheek.

Blood had gotten on my hands and clothes now but I didn’t care. When I was sure that he wouldn’t fight back just yet, I started patting down his shirts to find anything, something. I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to use violence just yet but the idiot just couldn’t take no for an answer. Calvin started rolling under me though, his hands trying to reach past my thighs to his holster. I got there before he did.

Uh-uh, if you have a death wish, all you gotta do is ask! I sneered as my hands, still with the knuckle duster on it, clasped over his gun and brought it to his face.

I got off him to stand over his body, both hands on the gun - using both hands on a gun made the target easier to hit, but one hand was fine either way. If I had to shoot, I didn’t care if I missed my aim, as long as he bled.

One false move and I shoot! I moved the gun from his face to his groin. Little Calvin might not forgive you if you get shot. The blood from his nose poured to either side of his face as he lay still on the ground. Empty your pockets!

I’ll kill you! He snarled. I kicked his leg.

Empty you pockets! Sound proofing really comes in handy in a place like this, you could scream and no one would hear you. Sit up and empty your pockets or so help me I’ll kill you and do it for you.

Calvin used his hands to support himself as he sat up and rummaged through the pockets of his pants. He retrieved his wallet, a piece of paper and his cell phone and held them up to me to see.

I jerked my head towards the sofa. On the sofa, now.

Me or these?

Your things. The gun rose back to his head. He leveraged himself to get a little bit more support and twisted so that he could grab the edge of the sofa and place the items neatly in the middle. But I should have known better than to ask him to do it because with one swift but sly motion, his legs kicked mine from under me, sending me crashing to the floor. I hit my head hard but my hand stayed attached to the gun.

He used my immobilization to his advantage and hovered over me before bringing his hands to my throat and squeezing. I choked and felt the intense pressure against my wind pipe. I thrashed under his hands. My grip on the gun loosened until I eventually let it go. I tried to pry his hands away from my throat. The blood pouring from his nose began to drip onto my exposed neck. I tried not to panic when my vision started to blur. It was only when I realized my knuckles still adorned the duster did I punch back. I shot my hand up to his eyes, once, twice, until he let go. His skin ripped above the eye, bleeding and blinding him. But I didn’t stop. I let the punches roll until the pain became too much for him to bear. He twisted in pain; I brought my right hand back one more time to land a blow to his head. Calvin fell to the floor; he was out cold. I gasped furiously for breath, turning my head to be sure that he really was knocked out. Experience taught me never to lose precious time. I jumped up, grabbed the things he threw on the sofa and ran to the mini bar to snatch a towel from the side. I wrapped it around my right hand and jumped over Calvin to get to the window so I could break it and get out. The only fault I saw with the plan was that I heard muted voices outside.

Shit!

I couldn’t just smash a window and jump out, otherwise they’d know something was wrong, but I could hardly walk back out there with blood over me, his men would guess something was amiss. I calmed my breath as I searched the room, massaging my neck as I thought. There must be another exit or at least another solution…there wasn’t.

Something had me going back to Calvin. I dropped the towel and searched him; maybe he had something that could help me. I felt something in his trouser pockets - a cigarette case and lighter. I growled when I pulled them out of his pockets; the pig didn’t show me the cigarette case on purpose! I shoved it into my pockets with the rest of the stuff but the lighter. I laughed as I remembered the sprinklers and the fire alarm. Sure enough, a sprinkler was overhead. The towel that I had dropped and the lighter in my hand gave me a dangerous idea. I had never resorted to arson before; I wasn’t a pyromaniac, but this was the only way I’d escape. I doused the towel in the scotch Calvin had poured for us and lit it with the lighter. I threw it onto the leather sofa and dragged Calvin as far away as I could. I watched triumphantly as it burned quick, the burning smell spreading, triggering the alarm in less than ten seconds. I grabbed the gun I had dropped and took one last look as his unconscious body before waiting.

The water fell.

The screams of the girls in the club and the footsteps of everyone evacuating made my pulse thump. This was my cue. I made for the door and ducked out. Screams of the women impaled my ears as I kept my head down and moved with the crowd. I held my breath as the water fell, hoping that no one had caught me sneaking out with bloody hands and body.

HEY!

I turned.

Damn it! I turned!

STOP THAT BITCH! Calvin’s yell broke through to me when I kept pushing forward against the other men that were trying to evacuate. The water must have woken him up. My heart beat