"It's not all here. Where's the last bag Ash?" Trent McKinton eyed up the nine small bags of powdery, white cocaine. Irritation flickered in his rough voice. He had a decent build as he stood up. A little taller than her, but way thicker, proving that he worked out to attain the muscle that he needed to run a gang. Angry tattoos lined up his arms in massive sleeves.
"There was hitch along the way. I lost a bag, but I got one of Zareavo's men locked up. I figured that it was worth the risk." Confidence in her decision was obvious in her strong voice.
"Well you figured wrong." He pinned her with a stare. His intimidating frame moved closer to her until he was standing right in front of her. "It isn't your damn right to give away my drugs. No matter how justified you think the situation is."
"I'm sorry. I - - I just thought that we could kill two birds with one stone. I figured you'd do the same thing, Trent." She stumbled over the words. She was too stubborn to take a step back. It was the safer way to show a little submission, but submitting had never been her thing. Several foster homes and running away had ensured that.
He reached down and tilted her chin up toward him. "Don't you ever try to put yourself in my shoes. Got it?" His threat breathed against her face, hinting of the booze and cigarettes that he must have had earlier.
"How am I supposed to do anything that you want if you don't let me take the initiative to make my own decisions? Quit berating me and let me make my own moves!" She snapped at him, not caring about any consequences. She'd always been vocal; there was no need to back down now.
Trent released her chin and backhanded her. The motion felt like a thousand little knives poking into her face at once in a brutal stinging sensation. Her breath hitched in her throat, as she looked in the direction her face had twisted. She had briefly lost her balance and stumbled back a few steps. He had pushed her around a little bit in the past, but never had hit her. It was a shock to say the least. And one that she wouldn't have expected. Trent had never been nice to her, but he'd also never shown her that he could beat her into submission; like a puppy having his nose rubbed in his own mess to prove that his actions were wrong. Her hand rose up over her cheek as she looked at him with her obvious surprise. She could taste blood seeping from her lip. She ignored it, knowing that it was the least of her worries at that moment. "What the..." She bit back the last word as she locked her eyes with his.
"Things are going to be different around here from now on Ash. You do as I say and don't ever backtalk. You just agree, okay?" He glowered over her. Watching for any form of resistance or rebellion. His blue eyes were stormy, proving his seriousness.
Ashley stood up straight. Her breathing was ragged as she caught her breath. Her eyes narrowed a little bit and her brows knitted together as she put her words together and made sense of what he said. "So you're saying that I can't speak my peace or opinion about something, and I have to do everything you say?"
"I knew you'd catch on quick." He wryly smiled. His voice bland and unconcerned. He turned around to walk back to the table with his drugs on it. He never did the dirty work and he never produced the drugs himself. He always bought from a supplier and dealt them out. It was more profitable and less risky that way. Even as a middleman, he made sure to keep a steady following for in his gang, just in case something went sideways. Gang wars had broken out for less than that.
Ashley couldn't stop her next words from stumbling out. She had to know. "Even if you want to get in my pants? I'm supposed to yield?"
Trent stopped and turned around. "Especially when I want to get into your pants. You do every fucking thing I want. Got it?" His brows whipped upward. He was waiting for her to retaliate. He was waiting for her to give him another reason to hurt her. Maybe it was the punishment that she'd get for losing some of his drugs? She wasn't sure.
"Try it and I'll kill you." Her eyes held the challenge that her chilled voice spoke out. He could do anything he wanted to her, but she'd never become his whore. The thought of it disgusted her. He could beat her to an inch of her life and she'd take it readily as long as he kept his hands off of her in the way that he wanted.
He marched back and jabbed his finger into her. "You are in no condition to make threats. You do as I say." There was no doubt that he meant what he said. "If you don't, I'll kill you before you have a chance to bat an eyelash."
Ashley clenched her jaw and forced herself not to throw her fist into his face. She threw her head up and straightened her shoulders before beginning to walk away from him. Her anger and humiliation burned through her eyes. She didn't have anything to say to him that wouldn't result in another threat or tongue-lashing. She paused at the door when she heard his voice take on a humorous tone.
"You need to pay me for that bag." He had shuffled back to the table and sat down. His eyes bore holes into her back when she had paused, before turning his focus back to the bags in front of him.
Ashley nodded curtly before stomping out. She had no idea where she'd come up with the money. The tiny bag was worth well over what she had on hand. And she knew that Trent would take payment in any way he saw as being fair to him with little care as to whether it was fair to the one giving the money. He was selfish.
A few of her foster families had been that way. They had only cared about the money for taking her in. They could care less about her welfare. She guessed that was what happened when your parents died and you ended up in the system. It sucked, but it made her stronger.
Her thoughts drifted back to earlier that morning. She hadn't seen Dom in a few weeks. His high cheekbones, dark eyes, and long dark hair that he always kept pulled back in a loose knot lingered in her mind. She hadn't really known his family or knew him all that well, even in school. But she couldn't deny that he wasn't half bad to look at. He was thin and wiry, but what muscles he had shaped his body nicely and reminded her that they weren't hers to touch. She could look all she wanted though. The closeness of him earlier lingered in her mind. Yeah, she'd teased him a bit, but he hadn't budged or given any hint of being attracted to her. Yet he had played along a little bit. Her hand gently touched her cut side. It was just that – a cut. Nothing major, but it stung.
The thought of him was more pleasant to think about versus the alternative of the debt she now owed Trent. She could have cared less if Dom was left out to rule his portion of Miko's kingdom, but she hadn't minded sneaking away from him in a less than discreet way. Maybe there'd be hell to pay for it. Either way it wouldn't be any worse than what she already dealt with here. Things kept getting worse. More dangerous and more threatening with the way Trent was changing things around. She felt just as smothered as she had in the foster homes. Maybe she deserved it though. Maybe it was the price she was paying for not trying to fit in better when she had a real home. It was hard to fathom a foster home being considered a real home, but it was the closest thing that she had in comparison to living on the streets.
Ashley kept her head held high and her shoulders back proudly. There was no need for the others to think her conversation with Trent had gone bad. Or that she had lost some of his precious drugs on a run that she could have done better on. Her pride was the only thing that she could hide behind. It's what kept her protected. The act that kept a façade going that was both real and insanely fake. She had pride; it was just more displayed than what really existed.
"When's the next run?" Ashley's thoughts were pulled out of context by a man's voice that came out of nowhere.
Ashley swallowed quickly and wet her lips before stopping to face the man. "What's it matter to you, Stan?" She eyed up the newer member cautiously. She'd call him by his last name, but nobody knew it. Maybe Trent did, but he didn't give any indication of it and didn't ask any questions. The only reason he was there was because he had brought in enough drug money for Trent to keep the bastard happy without many questions asked. Ashley still wasn't sure how much she trusted him. He was always vague with his answers or throwing questions back at you instead of answers. He was a mystery. And mysteries got people killed.
Stan's dark eyes showed no emotion in them. He paused as if trying to decide how he should answer the question, and he probably really was questioning how to answer it. He had a little bit of a shadow growth coming in on his jaw line and upper lip. It gave him a bit of a rougher appearance that screamed he wasn't one to mess with, especially with his carefully etched out muscles popping through his tight white t-shirt. It definitely showed that he had a thicker build than most of the men she knew. "Just wondering when there was more action than just sitting around."
Ashley was surprised he wasn't chillier without a sweatshirt or jacket on. She ignored it though. Her jaw hardened. "I'm not your damn boss. Go talk to Trent if you want answers. Besides, you should be smart enough to figure out something to do around here. Not sitting around on your ass all day." She could see a little surprise flash across his face, but she could care less.
"Sorry for asking." He mumbled and turned to walk away.
A little guilt twisted in her stomach. She couldn't let herself care though. Caring only brought hurt when Trent decided someone was disposable. Not getting attached to anyone was the name of the game. It was life. She had started with sticking close to different members when Trent had first tucked her under his wing. She learned the ropes after living on the streets and barely surviving. He taught her skills, but he seemed to forget that he had been nice to her. He was pushing her out of the nest to fend for herself like he did with everyone else. Now was when she had to prove that she was worth her keep, otherwise a bullet in the back of her head would be her new fate if she didn't watch it.
"Find ways to keep yourself busy, Stan. People that have no use don't live very long around here. K?" She said after him. The warning was the best that she could come up with. It would stop the churning in her stomach a little bit too.
He paused and looked back at her. "How?" He questioned. "Every place I've been has been different. How do you earn your keep other than showing that you have money for Trent?"
Ashley looked at him thoughtfully. She thought back to how the leader had taught her. "Get sources. Something that's useful for any occasion. Get more money for him. Earn your keep." She said slowly. She acted like she didn't care what happened to him as she pulled her hair up into a messy ponytail. She slid the rubber band from her wrist and pulled it tightly into her long, thick, curly, brown hair. "Ask Eddie if he's got anything for you to do."
"Is that it?" He asked cautiously. He was intent on hearing anything and everything that she had to say. It would be the best for his survival. For his acceptance.
Ashley sighed and began walking away. "It's a start. And keep your mouth out of things that aren't any of your damn business."