The Cunning

48

Madison hadn't moved. When Jase returned, her back was to him, the t-shirt she was wearing had ridden up, exposing her white lace briefs. On her left cheek was a faint pink birthmark, vaguely shaped like a heart.

"Here," he said, walking round to his side of the bed.

"Thanks," Madison said, pushing herself to sit up and accept the glass of water and two pills he was holding out to her. She knocked them back and laid back down.

"I got you these, too." He placed the box of tampons on the desk, screwing the plastic bag up and putting it in his hoodie pocket. "I've got a couple of shots to drop today," he said, unsure why he was giving her details, "I'll leave the paracetamol here." The foil packet was left on the nightstand.

Jase went downstairs to find Sam at the kitchen table, a cigarette burning in the ashtray. He was leaning over his daily paper, eyes flitting about over the black and white.

"She's still not in here," he said, referring to Madison.

"I'd rather her not be in there than have her in there," Jase mumbled, placing the other box of paracetamol in the cupboard. "Are you coming to drop this money off to Ramon and run some errands? I have a few ticks to follow through on as well."

"Might as well," Sam folded the paper and Jase went upstairs to shower.

"I think she believes you, by the way," Sam said as they got in Jase's car. Jase looked in his rear-view mirror as he reversed off the drive.

"What do you mean?" he asked, reaching over and pulling his seatbelt across his chest. He palmed the steering wheel to straighten up on the road.

"About your plan, leading her into a false sense of security," Sam replied. Jase had considered it himself when she'd said about feeling safe around him but then, he was sure that was the drugs talking. Last night was all down to the drugs because if it wasn't, he was in trouble.

"What makes you say that?" He didn't indicate at the end of the road, turning straight out before reaching across to the glove compartment, opening it to check for his gun, and closing it again once he was reassured it was where he had left it. Jase had two guns of his own and he liked to keep track of where they were. He always kept one in the car and one in the house, under lock and key.

"Janine said that Madison said you aren't that bad." Jase looked at Sam from the corner of his eyes and breathed out a small laugh, but he didn't say anything. They may have gotten cosy at the party and yes, he had lost his temper when Mike struck her, but he hadn't forgotten who he was toying with. If Madison had told Janine that she didn't think Jase was that bad, he could confidently put money on it being a test. A test for what, he wasn't sure, though he wouldn't allow himself to be led into a false sense of security by her so easily. Not wittingly, anyway.

They pulled up outside the club. Jase ran in to drop off the money they'd accumulated over the week to Ramon. When he came back, he lit a cigarette, opening his window a few inches.

"Did she say anything else, Madison?" he asked after he'd taken a couple of drags. If this was a test, he wanted to know what he was being tested on.

"Not from what Janine said, but I'd say after how she was towards you last night; Stockholm syndrome is a strong possibility with that one." Jase hummed, running his thumb across his bottom lip. It was easier not to think about it. Not to think about her laughing with him the night before, not to think about her smile as she yapped away, not to picture her asleep after dropping a Xanax and all of those confusing feelings that went with it.

But it was all that was going around his head. Jase couldn't stop thinking about her.

"Did you want to do drops or tick first?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Drops, save the fun for after," Sam replied.

It was getting dark by the time the boys had finished their deliveries. They were at the workplace of their first tick collection, waiting in the car park at the back of a Barbershop.

"How much does he owe?" Sam asked, looking around. Garages boxed them in, most of them covered in graffiti, none of it talented, mainly childish tags and the odd fallace. There was only one way to get in and out of the car park beside the small cut-through next to the barbershop that they were watching.

"Only £60," Jase replied, standing up straight from leaning on his car when he saw the guy they were waiting for walking through the narrow alley. Sam whistled to get his attention, and Jase smirked at the familiar discomfort on the guy's face. "You got my money, Chris?"

"Yeah, man, of course. I was about to run it round to you," Chris replied with a sheepish grin. Sam and Jase exchanged a look. It was bullshit, and they knew it, but neither of them bothered calling him out.

"Looks like we saved you the hassle then," Sam said as Chris approached. He pulled out his wallet, taking out three twenties and handing them to Jase.

"Nice one. See you around," Jase said, getting back in the driver's seat and leaving for their next destination; an encounter that he had a feeling wouldn't go so smoothly. It never did.

"Who's next?" Sam asked, flicking his cigarette butt out of the window.

"Oliver," Jase replied. Sam grunted in response, knowing all too well how this would likely play out. It didn't matter to Oliver how many times Sam and Jase roughed him up, he was always reluctant to settle his debts.