CHAPTER TWO

MIRI

"Bloody hell, Miri. Give me a break." I don't.

My arms jut out and I pummel him over and over. Hit one, two, move my feet, and jab again until he's backing out of the ring with his hands up in the air.

"Okay, okay. You've done enough."

Bouncing, I move around the ring. "Neil, I'm nowhere near done."

He laughs. "Well, I am. Come on."

My eyes roll to the ceiling and back to stare at him.

This started off as a way to ensure no one would ever be able to touch me again – that I'd be ready to defend myself. But it's unleashed something inside me, some kind of energy that still resides deep within me, even after I've kicked Neil's arse.

I start stripping my tapes and head towards the showers to get ready for the day, still full of that leftover energy. Every time I hit Neil, I imagine another man's face. And every time we stop, I picture Naja. Leaving.

Willow asks me about her and how I feel. I refused to talk to her about it for a while, but she's been so kind that there's an element of me that always feels like I owe her. At least, it did at the beginning. Not so much now.

Putting on my rucksack, I head out of the locker room towards home.

"Miri!" Neil calls as I reach the road. I turn and look back at him. "Listen. Some competitions are coming up, and I think you should enter."

"I don't do this for that." He doesn't know the real reasons behind my motivation, and I hope he never will. "Thanks, but no."

"You're sure?"

"Yes. I just do this for fitness and fun." And to make sure I'm never vulnerable again.

"That amount of attack doesn't feel like it comes from a place of fun."

I smile a little and look down at my feet as they shuffle on the pavement. "Maybe not, but I still don't want to compete. See you next week, Neil."

I don't wait for a reply and turn back in the direction I was going. Towards Broderick Media.

The huge glass doors revolve, and I swipe my card to get through the turnstiles. The lift gives me a chance to kick the sneakers off and slip my feet into my low, formal heels, and before I know it, I'm inside the corridor that heads to my cubby hole in the law clerk's office.

Various good mornings and greetings come my way, but I barely say a word in reply. Instead, I give a slight nod or half smile. I've been here a while now, but the time hasn't helped my underlying confusion surrounding my being here.

I should be at university studying law.

But that was snatched away, just like we were.

And now I'm here, muddling along with my sister missing, and I'm meant to feel grateful for it – grateful to him. The man at the top, Landon Broderick. The man who's given me everything I need with one hand yet refuses to give me what I want with the other. There's no straight answer with him. He's just a sharp, nasty man. Rude.

"Hi, Miri," Ash says. I keep flicking through the files in front of me, ignoring him. He might be Willow's brother, but that doesn't mean I have to like him. "Have you seen a file for that case they're dealing with on the top floor?"

"Which ones? There's, like, a hundred of them."

"Fischers and something. Service Contract?"

"Fischers, Lyme and Regent. It's the next acquisition. And no, nothing about that would be down here with me."

"Shit."

"What's it got to do with you?"

"I took three files from Marketing to him yesterday. One's gone missing." I shrug and keep sorting through the stack of other files on my to-do list today, placing each new piece into piles. "He's going to kill me."

"Luckily for you, you're the brother of the boss's fiancée. Just get Willow to deal with him."

He doesn't say anything else, just huffs and walks from the room. I'm not one for conversation, anyway. All I'm doing is starting at the bottom, trying not to feel as out of place as I am, and waiting for my life to change.

~

The day drags, just like all the others. I do the tasks assigned to me and carry on with the day, not really concentrating. I"m not really here. My head is always off wondering about what happened to us and why Landon hasn't done anything or told me about the men wrapped up in all of this. First Cortez. Then Cane. He knows them both, and that information eats at me every day. And this is why I'm only living half of my life because I'm stuck with the past haunting me – taunting me – because it's so close still.

Landon's sister, Ivy, could uncover what happened and who these people are. She's an investigative journalist. She'd find a story in all of this for sure. She might even be able to make it so that Naja would be safe.

Would she come back for me?

I slam the laptop screen down and tense my jaw as I grab my bag and leave. The office is still busy – it always is. Broderick Media doesn't sleep. Especially with Landon at the helm. It should be the best experience for me – actually doing real work and not stuck in lecture halls and libraries at university, but it's not quite right. It feels fake, somehow. They both felt obligated, I'm sure. I mean, what do you do with someone like me when I've been dumped with you? Keep me busy doing what I want to do. Give me a purpose. Maybe then I'll forget and move on.

Be safe.

That's what Willow promised Naja when she and Jackson went on the run. But since they drove off, I've not heard anything, and the constant unknown and worry is a mess inside my head.

I take the long route down to the lobby, hoping to delay the inevitability of getting home. I should be happy. Landon's old apartment certainly is more than I'd ever be able to afford in my lifetime, and he's just given it over for me to use. It took time, though. He and Willow didn't want me out of their sight for a while. More Willow than Landon. I thought I wanted to be out of their mansion and have my own space, and that would help. But it's the opposite.

The building security is good, and it's close to work, but I'm lonely, and every time I'm here, the memories seep back in, twisting the surroundings to those of when we were at that club. And at night, I swear I can hear the sound of those girls screaming with me. Everyone was so frightened. Terrorised. I'd never seen that kind of world before. We were made to parade around and dance, and men touched us harshly. They grabbed and groped us, and they treated us like property to be abused.

The vision of that one man – Elias – having his neck snapped by Jackson forces its way into my mind. He touched me. He would have raped me. He didn't care how scared I was. None of them did. They just thought we were to be used as they saw fit. They snatched us from the busy street in Copenhagen, and brought us here, to London, to be trained and sold. If it wasn't for Jackson and that explosion, I don't know where I'd be now.

I'm in the lobby and ready to get the hell out of here.

"Hey, girl!" someone calls.

My eyes close, and I take a breath before looking back to see a man in a suit running for me, sweat dripping from his brow. I back up a step, frowning.

"You're one of the law girls, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Good. Come with me."

"Excuse me?"

"Come on. I don't have time for you to mess me around." I follow at a distance, a little put out and not entirely at ease following a stranger back into the building, even if I know every square inch of this place is monitored by CCTV. He turns into an office and waves his hand at a sack truck full of boxes of files. "All this needs to be on the top floor. Thanks."

"Wait-" But he's gone before I get a chance to say I'm finished for the day. My hand on the exit wasn't enough of a sign.

It's gloomy as I push the cart towards the lift, and I realise it's the automated energy switch off at seven. A nice idea, and with the lighter evenings now that it's spring, it's only a problem when it's grey. Which, here in London, it seems to be all the time.

I push the button for the top floor and wait.

London isn't like back home. Bigger skies there. Cleaner air, too.

I look at the cart as the doors close and notice a blue file. Emblazoned across the top is Fischer, Lyme and Regent: Service Contract. I roll my eyes. Looks like I'm helping Ash after all.

My first stop is Willow's desk, but she's not there, and I falter between leaving the boxes for her or others in the department. A sticky note sits on the top, and Willow would only have to do it tomorrow. Besides, it gives me a minute to figure out if I should leave the blue file on her desk or take it to Landon directly. The last thing Ash needs is this file getting more lost than it already was.

After shifting the stack of filing to Martha's office, I come back to the blue folder. If Willow's left, he probably won't be in. Knocking on his door, I hold my breath and wait.

"Come." Shit.

I keep my head down as I enter. "I think this is for you," I rush the words as I cross the room to his desk.

"What is it?" I pass it over to him and back away from the desk, already wanting to leave. My senses prickle in the room, and I already feel uncomfortable, even after all this time around him. It's maddening.

After Naja left, I promised myself I'd never let another man intimidate me again.

Ever.

But I'm nineteen, and despite my intentions and self-defence training, I still can't shake the way I feel.

"Miri! How did you get this?"

"It was on the top of a stack of files for Martha. I recognised the firm name on the top." I stop, not wanting to land Ash in any more trouble.

"What?" he snaps. My heart rate ticks up, and my stomach twists. I turn and head for the door as fear engulfs me. "Stop." But I don't. The door opens, and I leave. "Miri?"

Don't stop.

Panic grips me and makes me feel disorientated. It's Landon. He's normally brash and cross. A hand catches my arm, triggering my response. I swing and land two jabs to his torso, ready to follow up with a third, but I pull the punch as I register who's standing in front of me.

My hands fly to my mouth.

He coughs and backs up a step. "Jesus Christ, Miri," he stammers, wheezing.

"Oh god, Landon. I'm sorry." I panic further and lean forward, ready to offer help, but something stops me, and I remain standing where I am. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He staggers back to his desk and sits. "You touched me, and I wasn't expecting that."

"Fuck me."

"Excuse me?"

His head rears up, a scowl in place. "No. Christ, no." He coughs again and points at a cupboard in the corner of the room. "Scotch."

"What?"

He continues to cough. "The least you can do is get me a bloody drink."

"Oh, right. Yes." I zip across the room and pour a glass, bringing it back swiftly. He snatches it from me and downs the whole measure. "I really am sorry." He leans back and breathes more evenly, tugging at his tie. "Do you need anything? Another drink?"

He chuckles, then laughs. My head tilts at the sound of it. I don't think I've ever heard it before in person. Through walls, yes, but never in front of me. I stare, amazed, until he looks at me. "What the hell's the matter with you, Miri? You can't go around attacking people."

"I didn't attack. I defended myself." Nobody is allowed to touch me without my permission, and Landon should know better.

"That might have been the case had I done anything to you."

"You touched me." He opens his mouth to say something but stops. I look at the floor. "Neil said to hit quick and hard and run, and I've learned quick and hard. I didn't run because it was you. Blame Ivy if you want. She was the one who gave Willow his number for me." I turn for the door again, desperate for this to end.

My encounters with Landon are usually strained, and this one is ten times worse. Men like him don't consider how their actions can come across. He's big, intimidating and predatory without even realising. Although, maybe predatory is a step too far.

I turn to leave and nearly reach the door for the second time.

"Have you eaten yet?" he calls.

"No." I wait for a second before turning around.

He nods at me, stands, and runs his hand through his blond hair. "You can come with me then. I'm meeting Willow at Maxwell's for dinner."

"I was just going to go back to the apartment and heat something up in the microwave," I say, as he walks past me. "You don't need to ruin your plans. I'll go home and eat."

"The entirety of that first sentence is problematic. And you, for reasons beyond my control, have become my problem. Decent lawyers don't eat anything from a microwave."

He gives me a pointed stare as he opens his office door, and I follow him along the corridor, watching a cleaner shift her trolley for him. "I'm not a lawyer," I say under my breath.

"And you're not likely to be if you don't eat correctly."

We remain in silence for the rest of the journey. He walks along the pavement as if he owns it, and I trail close behind, attempting to weave through the people who haven't moved for me despite moving for him. The sight of man after man in the evening rush – tall, short, fat, thin – all barging close to me brings my anxiety front and centre. I try the calming techniques Willow's yoga teacher talked about. I breathe slowly, pinching the base of my thumb to release some hormone she mentioned. It doesn't work. I'm panicking again, letting that fear consume me.

I look left and right sharply and find myself backing up to a wall rather than following anymore. Landon disappears into the sea of suits and jackets and coats, and before I know what's happening, I'm crouching on the floor and unable to pull in a deep breath. I keep squeezing my thumb, desperate for all this to go away. Horrible thoughts spiral in my mind, feeding off of my attack. The noises and screaming in my head drown out the street noise around me. Hands touch me – grab at me – everyone's rushing and …

"Miri?" I look at the shoes in my eyeline and try to focus on the sound of his voice. His hand appears in front of me, two fingers beckoning lightly. "Up you get. It's just me." My gaze roams the hand, following up until I reach his face. He's smiling for once in his life. "You're okay."

You're okay. I repeat the words in my head, and the noise calms, dissolving into the early evening hubbub of London. My hand reaches out for his, and I let him pull me up.

He crooks his arm for me as if I'm supposed to thread mine through his. I shake my head in reply, feeling uneasy again. So, he starts walking, his hand behind my back to keep me level with him.

"You're still having nightmares?" he asks. I nod but keep my eyes forward. "I hoped they would have subsided by now."

No. And I'm afraid they never will.

We walk on, with him stopping traffic with a wave of his hand so we can cross the road. Everything's so easy for men. The world moves for them or acknowledges their power by bowing and scraping. They're so damn strong, too. He lifted me from the ground back there as if I was as light as air. What hope do we have against that? The only hope we've got is being brilliant or fierce. I'm not brilliant at anything.

Not yet, at least.

Arriving at a restaurant, he opens the door and ushers me in. I'm almost immediately hit by a swarm of more men leaving, all of them wearing suits and cheering about something. Landon's arm goes out in front of me, blocking them from touching me.

The one up front backs off a foot. "Sorry, mate," he says.

"You fucking will be," Landon snaps. My eyes widen at his tone and language, and I shrink back into him. "Move for the young lady. Have some damn manners."

All the men shift one by one, clearing a path for us to walk through, and the eventual sight of Willow makes me rush to take a seat.

"Oh, hello you," she says. "I didn't know you were coming."

"Landon made me."

She smiles and looks up at him as he takes off his suit jacket.

"He did, did he? Were you feeling fatherly?"

He frowns. "She said she was eating from a microwave."

"Oh. Although, there are some very good meals these days."

He pours himself a large glass of red wine, and then starts pouring me a small one. "I never want to hear that from your mouth again. Either of you."

"You're being a snob again," she says.

"I'm entitled to it. The Sir soon to prefix my name suggests so."

"So sure of yourself," she says, smiling.

"With the amount of money I give to charity, you're damn right I am."

"An OBE for outstanding services to Media and Culture isn't enough?"

He takes a sip of his wine. "No. I want my knighthood. You'll both have to curtsey after that."

Willow laughs. "Not a hope in hell." He keeps staring at her. She blushes. "Well, maybe I will, on occasion." I don't know what they're talking about, but it seems private and personal. I shift in my seat and grab the menu to hide behind.

The meal and the company are lovely. I even managed to laugh at something Willow said, which made me stop for a second. When was the last time I laughed? Properly, wholeheartedly, with no reserve? Probably with Naja.

I push my dessert around the plate as I remember who I am and why I'm here again. All this is a lie. It's not real. It is on the face of it. I'm secure and should be looking forward to the future I'm being gifted.

"Miri? What do you think?"

My head rears up. "Sorry, what?"

"Landon suggested we go to Paris for the weekend. Just you and me. We can catch up with Seffi and see all the touristy things. Maybe a spa day?" I stare at her, confused. Does she think that's what I want? That that will somehow rid me of this dread and fear? "I think you could do with a break."

"A break?"

"Yes. Some time away. We could relax and unwind."

"You think I need a break?" She smiles and reaches her hand over to mine. I snatch it back.

"I don't need a break. I need some answers. Like where's Naja, and why hasn't she even tried to be in contact?" Landon sighs. My gaze goes straight to him. "What?" He frowns and shakes his head. "Why do you both seem to think I won't have questions or want answers? Where is she? Have you heard from Jackson?" He looks at Willow. She's lost her smile now and purses her lips. "You have, haven't you? You know something?"

"Miri …" Willow starts.

"This isn't the right place for this conversation," Landon cuts in and stands. He walks off towards the bar as if he's about to pay the bill. I look straight back at Willow.

"What's going on?" I ask.

"We'll talk about it in the car."

"No, tell me now."

She glances around but doesn't answer. She stands and pulls on her coat, seeking Landon as he comes back toward us.

Frustration and anger boil under my skin. "Willow? Landon? Please."

He ushers me up and leads us out of the restaurant in reply. The moment we're outside, I swing around and plant my feet. "No. I want to know what's going on now. I'm not waiting for a car journey. Please tell me. Is Naja okay? Is she safe?"

Willow reaches for my hand. "Miri. It's not good news, and I'm so sorry you're having to hear this." My eyes flip between both of them as I pull my hand from hers. Dread punches deep in my gut. This isn't the way to deliver good news.

"Jackson was murdered a while ago. In New York," Landon says. The words sink in slowly and start my mind racing in a million directions.

Murdered?

"What does that mean for my sister?"

I look at both of them, pleading with my eyes for better news about her.

Willow's eyes mist before she looks back to Landon.

"I'm sorry, Miri," Landon says. "As far as I'm aware, Naja is back with the Cortez family."