– for reasons known only to themselves. With rapt attention, each watched her approach. She stayed away from the street gaslight and was dulled by the moonlight, bathed in shadows.
‘I’m not a believer in fate and the like,’ Flenn announced with arms outstretched. ‘But I’ll say that our encounter must be one of chance. Would you not agree, Mister Donovan?’
‘That it must,’ Donovan acknowledged, sauntering before Misu and inhaling her scent. ‘Opportune indeed.’
‘I’m not blind. I know you’ve been watching me and I’m telling you to stop,’ she stated, firm in tone, though with a fissure to her voice.
Their response was a chuckle between them, sharing unspoken amusement at such brashness.
‘I’m also here to tell you,’ Misu tried to demand, ‘that I won’t do this any more. Tell Wilheim that the deal is off and he’s never to come near me again. Or you. It’s that simple; we’re done.’
‘Oh, done are we?’ Flenn loudly spat between then. ‘And you can make this decision, can you? This is your final word on the subject? I could tell him, but I know what he would say.’
‘He wouldn’t like it in the slightest,’ Donovan added.
‘Not a bit, I would think,’ he agreed. ‘It wouldn’t be sensible to tell him such a thing.’
‘Do you know what he would want?’
Donovan nodded repeatedly. ‘A change of mind, methinks.’
Misu tried to sprint, but failed in her shoes, designed for fashion and not mobility, especially taking the heels into account. A leg launching away in a slip sent her to the ground most ungraciously, and it took no effort for Flenn and Donovan to catch up with the woman. The pair was used to their quarry fleeing. They were also used to them not making it very far.
‘On your feet, kitten. Let’s be having you.’
Flenn’s fists clenched cotton, hauling Misu to her feet by her attire. Clearly every touch of his fingers disgusted her as he patted her pale cheeks. Every patronizing word cut through with thick, penetrating sarcasm.
Wilheim’s men had not been expecting an opportunity like this. The woman had always kept herself around others in public, cleverly near constabulary when perusing the markets or shops. They had watched keenly, shadowed her movements closely, all while remaining out of sight. Wilheim expected them to deliver his message, though a better word for it would be ultimatum, with the sort of persuasiveness those entrusted to such work were known for.
Toe to toe, Flenn towered over Misu’s frame. Her nostrils flared as his hand ever so gently stifled her breaths.
‘Let’s not be dancing any more, girl. You’ve had your little dandy despite Wilheim being far from patient. You know what he wants and he’s going to take it. You have no alternative and certainly no wiggle room for bargaining.’
‘I said I won’t do this any more for him,’ Misu whimpered, trying hard to retain her composure; however, her bravado had been quickly eroded away. No pithy quips. No snide remarks. Misu was bared to her predators.
‘You don’t get it still. There is no time to give. No extra chances. No more waiting.’
Donovan fidgeted with the leather sheath at his hip, drawing his palm around his knife handle. He was clearly getting bored of talking.
Talking rarely solved anything. Words were only an exchange of threats and force, no matter how well camouflaged. Everything was a foreplay to violence.
‘I don’t think she’s going to cooperate, do you?’
‘I think she’s spinning us a yarn. Don’t like being spun, me. Makes me frustrated. Makes me angry, if you get my meaning.’ Flenn’s thick fingers constricted in turn.
‘There – you’ve gone and done it,’ Donovan teased, seating himself on a crate. The metal was produced from its housing, an event that Misu was acutely aware of. Donovan used the blade tip to pick at debris beneath his fingernails.
‘I don’t care what you think, I won’t –’
Donovan interrupted. ‘I think we need to stop you talking for good. What do you think the boss would say?’
‘He would have your hides if I was harmed,’ Misu said, attempting to negotiate, but again this was unsuccessful.
‘Not what I heard. Maybe he’s getting old. He wants things done and doesn’t care about the methods. Never been much of a method man that one. Likes results.’
Flenn snickered cruelly. ‘It has been a while, hasn’t it? You didn’t even recognize us at the table. I dare say you’ve developed some humility, little one. I recall all your barbs at our persons, unwarranted slander if I recall. Looky here now though. Not as untouchable as you used to taunt.’
Thick, searching fingers groped at Misu’s breast. ‘Very touchable indeed.’ He licked her cheek, in a long, eager draw.
* * *
Slow footsteps echoed in the night, the soles of well-kept leather striking paving stone getting closer and closer as a figure walked up the alleyway. They stopped, yards from Wilheim’s men and their quarry. The scattered gaslights were too far away to cast light on the figure. All turned in unison, trying to make out if it was the law or just a random fellow who found himself witnessing business that he would do better to forget.
Misu attempted to wail for help, but the moment she tried, her restraint was pulled firmer, curbing the outburst.
‘Step away from the lady,’ the voice demanded, male and clearly in no mood to discuss it further. The demand was ignored, so it was repeated once more, sterner.
‘I paid my money,’ Flenn called. ‘I take what’s owed.’
Donovan rebuked any claim to the contrary, placing the cold steel on a thigh in warning. ‘We have a business transaction, don’t we, dear?’
Misu failed to object, or speak in general. Her eyes welled with tears.
‘She’s no streetwalker and you didn’t give her a coin. It’s painfully clear that she has no interest in what you’re offering, so I’ll repeat myself. Step away.’
Donovan narrowed his eyes, hopping from the crate with the weapon in hand. He slowly sauntered up the alley towards the intruder, waving the blade in gesture and threat. ‘None of this concerns you, slack jaw,’ Donovan claimed. ‘Turn around and forget what you saw. You’ll live longer for it.’
‘You know …’ the shadow paused, as if wrestling with the decision ‘… I just can’t bring myself to do so. Wouldn’t be proper, you know?’
* * *
Misu searched her memory, a burst of familiarity registering at the words.
That voice. She knew that voice!
She attempted to croak his name – a warning, anything, but it failed and came out as a grunt.
Donovan
