Mia

I let myself into the house after a long day at work. Working in a care home, even as an administrative assistant, is demanding and the extra shifts had left me with aching feet and a feeling of fatigue that was hard to shake. No two days were ever the same, and despite how difficult it could be some of the residents had managed to make their way into my heart. I wouldn't change it for the world. It also helped that the pay was decent enough that I could contribute towards the bills and keep the house running.

It felt like more effort than it should to shower and change before I could finally drop onto my bed. Burying my face into the pillow, I let the faint scent of lavender take the edge off my tense mood. It would be so easy to just stay like this and let sleep consume me, but considering I didn't get a lot of free time I hated to feel like it'd been wasted.

Lifting my head, I looked at the stacks of books that took over every inch of free space in my room in an attempt to decide on something to read. Many of them had been gifts from Dad over the years. He'd done his best to raise me ever since Mom passed away. I was so young when cancer took her that I couldn't remember what she was like. The only way I could familiarize myself with her was through the photographs that Dad kept. The older I'd gotten the more I realized that I was her double in every way.

My Dad was by no means perfect. He had a temper and he was partial to one drink too many, but how could I begrudge the man who picked up the pieces when he lost the love of his life, to raise me? I'm not sure I would have the courage to carry on if I had gone through what Dad had.

"AH!"

A scream followed by the sound of a door slamming shut hard enough to shake the house caused me to jump. My heart thumped against my breastbone as I tiptoed to the top of the stairs to see Dad muttering to himself as he paced the floor. Initial panic fading, I made my way to join him.

"Dad?" I asked as he whirled around to look at me. His eyes were wide, the whites of them bloodshot and my heart sank as I caught the vague scent of alcohol. "Dad, what's wrong?"

"Mia?" he said, taking me in. "Mia! Mia, pack a bag. We need to go. We need to leave!" He grabbed my upper arm and started to pull me back towards the stairs.

"Ow!" I attempted to pull my arm away. "Dad, you're hurting me. What's going on?" It was strange to see him in such a panic. Why was he talking about leaving?

He let go of my arm and I rubbed the spot, which was sore from the way he'd sunk his fingers into my flesh. It wasn't like Dad to be so rough. I'd been raised in a relatively gentle environment. Even now, I couldn't remember a time he'd raised his voice at me. I'm not sure he could allow himself to when I was the spitting image of my mother.

"I'm sorry," he said. "But please listen to me. We need to go."

Again, he spoke about leaving. He said it with such desperation that my stomach knotted, and I felt the anxiety start to claw up my chest at the thought that we might have lost the house. In a life where we didn't have much, Dad and I had done everything in our power to keep the house. If nothing else, we would have a roof over our heads.

"Why, Dad?" I asked him. "What happened?"

Turning away from me, he walked upstairs, and I trailed behind him trying to get an answer. "Dad, please!"

He spun around on me as we reached my bedroom door, and I thought he was about to answer my question. Instead, his face crumpled as a tear rolled down his cheek. My heart ached at the sight of him so upset and I pulled him into a hug. Keeping an eye on the floor, I carefully walked us into the room and sat us on the bed. I'd seen Dad cry, but it was usually only when we went to visit my mother. Silent moments at a graveside punctuated with mournful sobs.

"Dad," I said gently, taking his hand in mine as his tears subsided. "You need to tell me what's happened."

"I've made such a mess of things." His voice was thick from the tears and he sniffed.

"How? What's happened?"

"I'm in debt, Mia."

That's what he was worried about? We'd never been the best with money. We'd lived paycheck to paycheck for as long as I could remember but we'd always managed to make it through.

"It's fine," I assured him with a smile. "We'll figure out a way to pay it back. I'll take on some more shifts."

The feasibility of that was uncertain, considering just how many times my name appeared on the roster at work. They were looking for a cleaner to work during nights and if I could arrange it properly perhaps I'd be able to balance both. When I graduated from high school I'd walked straight into this job. College had been the goal but there was no way we would have been able to afford it, so I kissed that dream goodbye and started working instead.

There were times when I ached for a life that had more than this, but I quickly pushed down those feelings in fear they would spiral into resentment. If Dad needed my help, then I was as ready to step up as I had always been.

"No, Mia. You don't understand. I owe thousands," he whispered.

Thousands? I paled at the thought. I had assumed a few hundred dollars. How had he managed to accumulate that much debt? The room around me spun and I took in a deep breath to try and regain some composure. "How?" I asked him, dreading the answer.

"I... I have a gambling problem."

He looked away from me, taking his hand from mine and leaving it cold. I could see the shame written all over his face, and a heavy weight settled in my chest and stomach. How had I not caught it? How had I not seen it? I had believed every extra job he took on was for a reason but now I was beginning to piece it all together. There were nights he would come home late and in a bad mood. There were times when I couldn't figure out why we were still barely scraping together the rent when he had done extra hours. I had trusted my Dad unconditionally, because what reason had he ever given me not to?

"What can I do, Dad?" I asked him quietly. As hurt as I was by his actions, we were a team and I wouldn't abandon him now. Whatever we needed to do, we'd do it together to get out of this situation. The lies and betrayal could be discussed afterwards.

"You don't understand," he said, looking back up at me. The smell of alcohol was stronger now that we were next to each other. "He'll kill me. We need to leave."

My heart stopped in my chest when I heard those words. "Who?"

"Lucas Foster."

"Lucas Foster," I repeated the name. He wasn't a man that needed much introduction. "As in Lucas Foster who was in school with me?"

That wasn't who. It was his younger brother that was in the same grade as me but I'd forgotten his name. I vaguely remembered Lucas waiting for him on his motorcycle when school let out. He always looked so angry, but it'd been years since I'd seen either of them.

"I'll speak to him," I told my Dad. There had to be a way to strike an agreement, a compromise. Maybe Dad had misunderstood.

"NO!" he shouted, and I jumped at how aggressive the word was. "No, Mia you can't. You need to stay away from him." He started to panic.

"Dad, I'll just..."

He cut me off. "He wants you."

"I'm sorry?" I asked him, confused.

"I borrowed money from him. I visited his casinos and I borrowed money from him," Dad explained frantically. "It was a stupid, stupid thing to do but I just thought... Mia, if I could win big then I could pay off the house. I could get you to college." He ran his hands over his face. "I told him I couldn't pay him. I can't do it. I don't have that kind of money. He said he would let me pay him back if I gave you to him."

My head reeled from the confession, room spinning around me again. What did he mean if he gave me to Lucas? What would Lucas Foster want with me? We'd never spoken. We didn't know each other, and now this?

"But I won't let it happen, Mia," Dad continued, grabbing my hand and squeezing it. "I won't, so we'll go. I'd rather die than hand my baby over to scum like him."

The Fosters were seen as a respectable family with wealth beyond measure in town but there were whispers. Wealth like that wasn't earned through legitimate business. There was plenty of gossip that followed the Foster name and murder was just one of the words that cropped up regularly. I'd never paid much attention to what had been said. After all, we moved in completely different circles. Now it looked like we were about to collide. I needed to make sure that my Dad didn't get himself into any more trouble.

"I need to speak to him."

"Mia, I'm begging you." Dad looked at me desperately. We'd only ever had each other to rely upon. I needed to try and work something out that didn't include me being taken by Lucas Foster, whatever that entailed.

"Pack and we can leave tomorrow," he ordered me. "I'll get everything in order."

He hadn't thought this through. Where were we meant to go? What money did we have to start fresh somewhere? Dad's plan was dead in the water before we even started it.

I hated lying to my Dad, but it was necessary before we found ourselves in deeper trouble. "Okay, Dad. Whatever you say. Why don't you go downstairs? I'll be there soon and cook us some dinner."

He breathed a sigh of relief, pulling me towards him before placing a kiss on my forehead. "I'm sorry I let you down, Mia."

My heart lurched at the words. He had gotten into this mess trying to give me a better life. "You've never let me down."

He got up from the bed and left me alone, where the weight of the situation weighed heavy on my mind. A wave of nausea hit me as I watched his back retreat down the stairs. I fought against it and lay back down, staring at the mottled white of my ceiling. I had no clue what was going on or how I was meant to talk Lucas out of the ridiculous bind that he had Dad in. If the rumors were true, if the Foster's shady reputation wasn't just gossip, it wouldn't matter what I said because he'd do as he pleased.

The anxiety coiled in my stomach and seeped through my limbs, paralyzing me momentarily. I couldn't lose Dad. I couldn't lose him because he was all I had. He was the single thread that tied me to anyone in life, because we had no other family to depend on. The two of us against the world.

I grabbed my phone from the bedside table where I had placed it earlier and Googled Lucas Foster and our town. The first few links were the websites to the casinos the Foster family owned, and I saved the addresses into my notes. Continuing to scroll through the results, there wasn't a lot to be found. A few articles seemed to be the extent of it. When I clicked on one of the links I was greeted by a face, and I felt the hairs on my arms stand on end.

The article was from a few years ago and reported on the opening of the latest casino. Lucas was pictured in a suit beside an older man. His beard was trimmed neat and his dark hair was slicked back, but it was the dead look in his eyes that made me nervous about my impending visit.

I hoped Lucas was a man that would listen to reason.

-----

I knew Dad didn't want me to speak to Lucas, but I couldn't let it rest. Stuck in my thoughts for the evening and most of the day, I only cemented the decision that I wouldn't allow anything to happen to him. There had to be a way to rectify this without separating us.

"Hi, I need to see Lucas Foster. I'm wondering if he's here," I said to a security guard who stood just inside the opulent casino. I'd already tried two of the others and I hoped that third time would be the charm. It was early afternoon but there were plenty of people around and the ringing and talking was overwhelmingly loud.

He ignored me and I sighed. "Lucas Foster?" I asked him again. "You know, his family owns this place? Where can I find him? Or do I need to make an appointment?"

"With an ass like that you don't need to make an appointment, sweetheart," a husky voice came from behind me.

I turned on my heel to see a man behind me, flashing a smile as he moved his sunglasses from his face to the top of his head. He was easily over six feet tall and towered over me. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing off heavily tattooed arms and his green eyes trailed down my body making me want to shrink away. He was older than he was in the photograph I had seen last night, but he had the same look in his eyes. This was Lucas Foster.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, coming to a stop in front of me.

I folded my arms across my chest and introduced myself, "Mia Griffin."

The polite facade that he had held dropped quickly once he realised who I was. "We can talk in my office," he told me, all business now. Whatever attraction he'd felt was fast replaced by irritation. I followed him as he strode across the floor of the casino up the stairs, into his office. "Shut the door."

I did as I was told and closed the door before turning back to see he'd taken a seat behind his desk. The sense of fear flooded me as I realized I'd enclosed us both in the small space. All of the damning whispers about his family roared in my ears along with a rush of blood as I reminded myself to stay calm.

"I take it Hector spoke to you. Please, take a seat." Lucas gestured to a seat in front of him.

I shook my head, refusing to move from the door. I had no intention of making this meeting any longer than necessary. "I'm fine standing."

"Suit yourself," he said with a shrug.

Lucas hadn't taken his eyes off me and I swallowed hard and composed myself before starting, "I know my Dad owes you some money."

He huffed some breath from his nose. "Your father owes me a substantial amount of money," he corrected me.

"Okay, I know he owes you a substantial amount of money."

He leaned forward in his chair and tossed the sunglasses from his head onto the desk with a clatter. "Do you?"

"Do I what?" I asked him.

Pushing his chair back slightly, he began to rummage through the top drawer of his desk and I wished I hadn't closed the door. When he straightened up again there was nothing sinister in his hand, just a manila folder. He placed it on the desk and opened it before beckoning me with his finger.

Hesitantly, I approached him, standing before the desk and looking down at the papers he had revealed. The numbers swam before my eyes and shock stole the air from my lungs as it hit home how deeply in trouble my Dad was.

"Your father has a debt that he's incapable of repaying in the traditional sense," Lucas said, leaning back in his chair while I tried to take in enough oxygen to keep me standing. "I've given him my terms."

"I can help him pay in installments if you just..."

"Mia, Mia, Mia," Lucas said, a half-smile coming to his face. "I've already discussed this with your father. If he can't pay the amount in full then how can I ensure that he'll pay me at all? How can I trust his word that he won't miss an installment?"

There was a small part of me that hadn't believed my father when he told me he was in debt to Lucas. But seeing it all laid out before me now made the anxiety creep up my throat until I found myself babbling.

"Because I'll help him. I'll make sure he doesn't miss a single payment. Technically, you'd have your money back quicker if you let me stay with my Dad and help him."

"Or you both might flee," Lucas suggested, and I prayed that my expression stayed calm, so he didn't realize just how accurate he is. "No. The way to ensure that your father pays me back my money, as well as the interest he's accumulated is to take something valuable from him."

I could feel the blood drain from my face. "You can't... You don't even need his money!" It was a big assumption to make but couldn't be far from the truth. It didn't take a genius to see that Lucas had more than enough money to live comfortably, so why would he be after my Dad for a sum which would hardly cause him to lose sleep?

In one swift motion, he rose from his seat and stalked towards me, reminding me of a predator. I moved backwards as he spoke, trying to maintain a safe distance. "You're not about to tell me what I can and can't do."

Lucas stood in front of me as my back bumped against the door, alerting me to my lack of an escape route. The scent of pinewood and mint surrounded me as he leaned in, crowding my personal space, and continued.

"I get what I want, Mia. No questions asked. And what I want is my money. Consider yourself as collateral," he told me, and I winced at the term that made me sound more like a possession than a person. "You have a choice," Lucas said straightening up and taking a step away from me. "You can agree or..." He made a gun with his fingers and placed it at his temple before miming a shot.

"You can't..." I said again, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention. He couldn't be serious about the threat. But one look at Lucas's face told me that he was. There was nothing in his eyes that said this man would be willing to let this go without repercussion.

"Uh uh, Mia. What did I say?" he asked as he pulled a card from his pocket and held it out to me. With a trembling hand, I took it from him and looked at it. No expense had been spared on the creamy white card with his details embossed in a deep, jet black.

"I told your father he had a week," Lucas told me as I looked up from the business card. "But this little chat has been enlightening. I expect an answer by the end of the day."

"What?" I asked, blindsided by how this conversation had changed his mind. I was meant to be helping us out of this situation and instead, I'd dug myself a bigger hole.

"I look forward to hearing from you, sweetheart." He was done with the conversation. "See yourself out," he said, turning away from me to go back to his desk.

I left the room without another word. Even if I had the courage to stand there and argue with him, I didn't trust myself to not make things worse.