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Jude Alden wasn’t an escape, he was the one she should be
running from.

“Surprised to see you too,” Luca said, “but then you’ve been
away a while.”

Indigo smiled coyly, a door closing in her mind. She would
never come here again.

“You have something I need,” Luca said to Jude, his tone
changing. “And I told you I wanted an update next time I saw you.” All humor
had disappeared from his face. “That time is
now
.”

Indigo stopped breathing as everything clicked into place.
Jude
worked for the mob.
Realizing it, an endless stream of details abruptly
made sense: the restaurants that were far beyond his means, the apartment that
no techie should be able to afford, the impossible hours he worked, the days he
disappeared and then returned without explanation.

He was a criminal too.

She turned to Jude, the mask of control wavering. She wanted
to rage at him, but she couldn’t. Luca was on the other side of the booth.

“I… I don’t have the report done,” Jude stammered. He looked
at Indigo pleadingly. His eyes were so wide there was a ring of white around
the green. “I’m sorry!” he gasped. Indigo didn’t know if the apology was for
Luca or for her.

Luca leaned closer, lips twisting cruelly. Again, Indigo
fought down the urge to bolt.

“This is the one and only warning I’m going to give you,” he
snarled. “You get me that report in the next twenty-four hours, or I will have
to
remind you
of your obligations.” Luca’s eyes flickered to Indigo and
then back to Jude. “You wouldn’t want me to do that, would you?”

Indigo could feel her breathing beginning to pick up. She
was no longer frozen, but ready to run. She slid down the bench of the booth,
moving herself away from Jude, smiling at Luca at the same time.

“I think I’ll just let you two men talk business,” she said
with a tinkling laugh. 

She pushed herself up from the seat but Luca caught her by
the wrist before she could walk away. His attention turned to her, fingers
tightening like a shackle.

“Don’t leave too fast, baby,” he said with a smirk. “I was
hoping we could catch up, just you and me.”

Indigo’s smile wavered, an image bursting forward, unbidden:
There was so much blood the floor was slick with it. She turned away,
breathing in sharp gasps, trying to control her terror, but Luca wasn’t done.
He grabbed her chin, fingers digging into her skin, forcing her to turn back to
the gore. “I want you to remember this,” Luca had growled.

“A-another time,” Indigo said, her voice sharper than she
meant it to be. She took a slow breath, fighting for self-control. “I promise,
Luca. But tonight I’m working.” She beamed at him, waiting for his fingers to
loosen. “You know how that is… a little work, a little play.”

Luca snorted in laughter at the turn of phrase. She wondered
if he knew how much she despised it.

“I know, I know,” he grumbled, his eyes drifting down her
body, hovering on the hollow of her cleavage. “And I like this look on you.
It’s
different
.”

His fingers released her, and Indigo stood up slowly. That
was the key: not to bolt, to let them think they still had you. Instead she
preened, straightening her jacket and retucking her shirt. She flicked her hair
over her shoulders, smiling. Luca’s eyes followed the motion. In her peripheral
vision, she could see Jude staring at her in horror. She didn’t care. Right now
the only thing she could think about was her own escape.

Jude had to fend for himself.

“I told you I’d come back another night,” she purred, “and I
will.” She nodded at Jude, refusing to make eye contact and looking over his
shoulder instead. “Besides, you’re working now too, Luca. I’m sure you and Jude
have lots to talk about.”

Behind Indigo, Patel chuckled, and her skin crawled.

“You’re right, of course,” Luca said with a petulant scowl.
“Go! But I’ll be waiting.”

She turned and Luca slapped her on the ass. Indigo closed
her eyes, breathing hard, but didn’t stop.

“Don’t forget,” he said. “I get jealous, you know!”

She raised her hand, waving as she crossed the floor.

“I’ll see you around, Luca,” she called in a singsong voice.
“Promise.”

As she reached the door, she caught sight of Shireese. Her
face was rapt with horror, but it wasn’t Indigo she was watching.

It was Jude.

: : :
: : : : : : :

Fran Williams was pacing her office, fingers drumming
against the side of her pants. Agent Sanger sat in one of two armchairs in
front of her desk, but she wouldn’t join him. Fran thought better when she
moved, and she needed every bit of attention if they were going to take on
Tyrone “King” Fischer. She’d seen enough politicians come and go to know he had
more power than any one person in authority. If she was going to light a fire
under his hornet’s nest, she needed to be certain she knew how to put it out
afterward.

“What we need is solid evidence,” Fran said, her eyes half
closed. “I’ve got bodies a-plenty, and no admissions.”

“After what he did to that Baird kid,” Sanger said dryly,
“do you blame them?”

Fran’s mouth twisted in disgust. Her eldest son was in high
school. It was easy to imagine
him
in that hospital room. A good kid
pulled into a bad situation. She was glad the boy had lived.

“King’s smart,” she growled. “He’s got a barrier of
protection around him. No one goes into it, no one comes out.” Her hands rose
to her hips. “Even those few people I’ve got near him haven’t been able to get
him to admit anything.”

Agent Sanger nodded.

“Doesn’t need to be King making the admission,” he said.
“Just someone close. Someone we can bring in, and pressure to testify against
him.”

Fran shook her head, walking faster.

“I’ve lived in this city a long time, Sanger,” she said.
“Most of these people he works with would rather die than risk putting
themselves on the wrong side of him. King is brutal with insubordination.” Her
voice dropped low. “Half those deaths I’m waiting to charge him with were
his
men
at one time.”

Fran’s feet stopped, eyes widening.

“That’s it!” she muttered.

Sanger sat up taller, his attention on the woman in front of
him.

“What are you thinking?”

She turned, her face bright with excitement.

“We find someone who’s on the way out of power,” she hissed.
“We push them into it.”

 “You have someone in mind?”

“Not yet,” she answered, “but they’re all criminals.” Fran
smiled. “Give them enough rope and they’ll hang themselves eventually.”

Jude watched Indigo’s swinging hips disappear through the
crowd, his mind scrambling. She’d transformed before his eyes, the woman he
knew disappearing, another person taking her place. Luca chuckled, and Jude
swivelled, finding him grinning.

“You have expensive tastes, my friend.”

Jude’s gaze moved back to the crowd but Indigo was gone, the
front door swinging.

“How do you know her?” Jude asked. The realization was
there, just at the edge of his consciousness, but he didn’t
want
to know
the truth. 

“Oh I’ve known Indigo since she was just a pickpocket ,”
Luca explained. “In those days I was still working my way up the ladder, doing odd
jobs. Making my mark.” He snorted with laughter. “She stole my wallet at a
rave. I caught her, of course, but when I saw her face, it seemed a pity to let
that
…” he nodded toward the closed door, “…go to waste.”

“A waste,” Jude repeated, memories of The Vault, and how
she’d refused to come in, intruding.

“Indigo’s a tricky one,” Luca said wryly. “A goddess in bed,
but you can’t hold on too tight. I’ve been trying to catch up with her for
months.”

Jude opened his mouth, and closed it again, the room spinning.
Everything made perfect sense
. One part of him was horrified, the other
still reeling with the discovery.

Luca put a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“You should consider yourself lucky to have her attention at
all,” he said, tone changing. “But your luck can always change.” His fingers
tightened, and Jude winced. “King wants the file on the commissioner. I’ll be
coming to get it from you in…” he checked his watch, “…twenty-three and half
hours.” Luca stood up from the booth, straightening his jacket, and smirking.
“Have something for me then, or you’ll wish you did.”

“I will,” Jude said in a strangled voice.

Jude waited until Luca left, then reached into his pocket,
dropping a hundred on the table and standing. He headed out onto the street,
aiming for the subway station.

He had to find Indigo.

: : :
: : : : : : :

The night was frigid, an arctic gloom settling down on the
city. Out of O’Reilly’s, Indigo sprinted up the street, lungs aching with cold.
She was shaking in horror, her mind trapped three years before. A car drove by,
and she jerked in surprise. Like a nightmare, the old feeling was back: the one
where she was trapped. She had believed that school and a respectable job would
take her out of it, but she was wrong.

“Fuck you, Jude!” she gasped, eyes burning with unshed
tears.

Another car passed, and Indigo moved to the far edge of the
sidewalk, eyes flitting from one end of the road to the other. The subway
station was up ahead, but she changed her mind at the last minute, veering off
onto the side-streets instead. A new layer of snow was falling, painting the
scene white. On the blank page, images appeared, pulling her back into the
past...

Rocco Cerritos had been a prince in the mafia underworld:
His pedigree linked him to families that controlled all aspects of illegal
commerce along the Eastern seaboard and his marriage to Tyrone “King” Fischer’s
sister, Sonia, was as much a medieval alliance of two feuding families as a
love match. For Indigo, he’d been just another friend who Luca had introduced
her to. Another dick to service.

“Mr. Cerritos is in town for a few days,” Luca’d said as
he helped her into Rocco’s chauffeured car. “I want him to have a good time
tonight, Indigo.” He’d winked. “I know you’ll make me proud.”

At the time, Indigo hadn’t known what that would mean,
but she’d learned fast.

Cerritos had had a penchant for pain. He’d liked to wield
power – both over those he worked with and those he fucked – and Indigo had
learned that denying him only made it worse. She’d had a broken lip the first
time she’d come to work after a night with him. A black eye the second.

“It won’t get better until you get out,” Shireese had
warned her. “I know that from experience.”

“Get out, where?” Indigo had retorted. “Got no place to
go!”

Indigo hadn’t seen a way. It wasn’t bad enough… yet.

Indigo hadn’t seen Rocco for a few months. He’d worked
different circles than King did, whereas Indigo’s trade revolved around Luca
and his friends. She laughed and talked, and escorted men to fancy dinners. She
played a hundred parts, tailoring them to her patron like the actress she was.
She and Shireese talked of other places and other lives, the two of them hatching
a pipe-dream of escape. She’d never actually expected she’d need it.

And then Rocco had returned.

He’d been in a foul mood that particular night. Rumour
amongst Luca’s friends had been that Rocco and King had fought over a lucrative
drug deal involving the import of hashish. By the time the two of them had
arrived at The Vault, both Rocco and King were spoiling for a fight. Indigo’d
been working the floor when they’d come in, and she’d cringed as Luca nodded
toward her. But a job was a job, and for a girl with her background – and her
looks – there was one particular line of work.

It’d started the way it always did: suggestive talk, and
open flirtation, but partway through her shift, Rocco had become rough and
obnoxious. He’d slapped her when she’d brought him his drink too slowly, then laughed
when she’d backed away from him. When he’d invited her to join him in his car,
she’d declined. Furious and drunk, Rocco’d begun raging. Indigo had retreated
into the back room, refusing to come out.

King had followed.

You didn’t say no to the King: every girl on the floor
knew it. But Indigo had. He’d been incensed, punching her hard enough to bloody
her nose. When she’d come back out, coat over her arm, she’d held her head high,
but terror was in her heart. Luca’d caught her eye and held it.

Luca she’d trusted. But even he couldn’t help her.

Rocco had taken her back to his apartment – the one he
kept in the city, separate from his wife and children – and had ordered her to
undress. Indigo had dallied, earning a punch to the jaw. She’d already been
bleeding at that point, and long after the night was over, she remembered how
Rocco had stretched his fingers afterward, laughing.

“Now the gloves come off,” he’d sneered.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Everything OFF!” he’d roared, spittle splattering his
chin. “Do it NOW!”

She had taken several steps toward the door, heart
pounding, but he’d lunged. Rocco had caught her around the waist, the two of
them going down hard. Indigo knew the second she started fighting back she was
going to regret it, but it wasn’t even a choice. She wouldn’t go down without a
fight.

Indigo remembered him tying her up. She remembered his
fists, but she refused to remember beyond that point. When she’d awoken, she
was in a hospital room filled with pink roses, a card for ‘the prettiest flower
of them all’ on the table beside her. It had been signed: Love Rocco.

She’d sworn it’d never happen again.