up and about, it wouldn’t be too long until they came after Riley. Symone understood Cassie’s concerns and the need to be careful, but Riley was an innocent who could use a second chance.
Symone shrugged off her jacket and added a weapons belt that her jacket would hide. She had to get that kid off the streets. As she slipped her knives into their sheathes, her phone rang. No one had the number of the burner cell besides the lair and Jared. Looking at the unfamiliar number, unease slithered down her spine. “Hello?” she answered cautiously.
“You said to call you if I was in trouble?”
Riley.
The girl’s voice wavered as she continued. “I could really use your help. Those guys from last night are coming after me, and I got nowhere else to go.”
“Where are you? What’s happened?” Symone knew she should listen to Cassie’s warnings. She knew Riley could be trouble, but she couldn’t ignore the call. She had to go.
“This kid, Raul, and some other Kings caught up to me at the park. Threatened to kill me if I didn’t bring you back for some payback. I don’t know what to do.”
Oh perfect. A trap. She loved a trap about as much as she loved a bikini wax. “Listen to me, meet me down by the strip mall on Milk Street. Can you do that?”
“Yeah—but they’ll kill you.”
“You don’t worry about that. You just get down there and stay safe until I get there.”
“I-I don’t know what to say.”
“Right now, don’t say anything. Let me get you safe first.”
“Do you think you’re some kind of superhero or something? You’re not afraid of getting killed?”
“Believe it or not, there are worse things than dying.” Symone snatched her keys off the counter, rushed out the door, and headed back to Milk Street. She knew what she was walking into. She just hoped she could find Riley and get her out before the fireworks began. Riley didn't need to see that kind of carnage.
Careful to check her surroundings to make sure no one was watching her, Symone knelt by the alley of the old paper mill warehouse, trying to pick up the thread of Riley’s scent. Something spicy mixed with bubblegum, maybe cotton candy. She’d know Riley’s scent anywhere now.
Cassie and Jansen would kill her if they found out she was here. But she couldn’t leave the teenager on her own. When those gang members woke out of their stupor, they would send more of their friends after Riley. Symone needed to get her to safety. Cassie had texted with the address of her friend in Atlanta. So that was at least an option.
The wind kicked up, and Symone smiled. Just the help she needed. With any luck she’d find Riley within the hour and get the teenager off the street. She didn’t really have a plan for what she’d do after she found her, but maybe she’d start with saying, “Move your ass, I’m trying to save your life.”
Keeping to the back alleys, Symone made her way to the bridge behind the strip mall. The stretch of sand by the water was called the beach, but it wasn’t the pretty tourist attraction that drew tourists to the area. This was the stretch of beach the city council of Mylands, Florida would rather keep hidden. It was where the thieves, dregs, and street kids slept and made their deals.
It was also where the larger gangs from the neighboring Miami harvested some of their fresh blood. And where Riley’s scent lingered.
As she crossed through an abandoned warehouse on the south side of the bridge, Symone couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. She slunk into the shadows and checked her surroundings.
Inhaling deeply, she filtered out all the scents of garbage, dank warehouses, and water, and focused instead on any aroma that shouldn’t have been there. This was the second time in two nights she’d had the heebie jeebies. She wasn’t going to take any chances.
The musky scent of worn leather wandered on the breeze. It was too familiar. Last night she’d assumed it was the gang members’ leather jackets, but maybe she was wrong. Maybe it came from someone, or something else. Suddenly, a part of her wished she’d listened to Cassie. It was stupid to be out here without backup.
And who was going to back up Riley if she didn’t? If she listened to her instincts, Riley would be dead by morning. Or worse. Symone shuddered as a memory of