Ace's POV

Reagan seems to remain oblivious to my presence, even as I edge closer to her. I slide my gun carefully inside my jacket, deciding she doesn't pose an immediate threat. I gently grasp her upper arms, and she doesn't react.

Something is definitely wrong here.

"What are you doing here?" She doesn't answer and just continues to stare blankly at my chest. I place my hand under her chin and tilt her head up so she'll look at me.

I suck in a sharp breath. Her hazel eyes are cloudy with confusion, and her pupils are dilated. She begins to sway on her feet.

Now even more determined to get answers, I raise my voice slightly hoping to snap her out of the delirious state she's currently showing.

"Reagan! What the hell are you doing here?"

Thin creases form between her arched eyebrows and she frowns as though trying to remember something.

When she turns her head to the side—ripping her chin from my grip in the process—I see that her head is matted with blood in the back. Alarmed, my fingers instantly prod the back of her head lightly. I hiss as I feel the large bump there.

Had someone hit her on the back of the head? Is that why she seems to be so confused?

Throughout my entire thought process I realize that Reagan still hasn't spoken.

"Hey." I shake her slim shoulder slightly. "Angel, what's your name?"

I hope that she can at least remember who she is. Having not even finished high school, the most medical knowledge I have is what I've picked up over the past few years. Knowledge which is limited to treating a simple bullet or knife wound. Head trauma is a completely different story.

She swallows, pausing briefly, before she opens her mouth to speak. "My name is Reagan Ortega."

I sigh in relief, even as her raspy voice grates against my ears.

Her eyes clear somewhat once the words leave her lips, but they cloud over again with panic almost instantly.

"She betrayed me! Now they're going to kill a girl, but she's innocent! It'll be my fault! I have to stop them and—"

Startled by her outburst, I let my hands fall from her shoulders.

What the hell is she talking about?

Her hands come up, and I can tell that they're shaking. Her fingernails dig into my arms as though she needs something real to hold on to.

Well shit, there goes my plan. Giving her some money and getting her on the next bus back to wherever the hell she came from isn't an option now. In her current condition she wouldn't even make it out of Chicago.

Releasing an exhausted sigh, I swipe a hand down my face.

This damn girl is causing me more problems than I can afford.

Prying her nails off my arm, I reach into my jacket and pull out my phone. Typing in a few numbers, it rings twice before being picked up.

"What?" A man's gruff voice comes through the line.

"Tell Andy to arrange for a body pickup. I'll text you the address." I grunt out. Reagan looks at me with sudden fear in her eyes as she distances herself from me.

"It'll be done in the next hour." The man replies, and I hang up the phone. Turning to Reagan, I find that she's still a few feet away in a defensive stance.

"Listen, angel, if I wanted you dead, you would already be lying next to the decomposing sack of filth over there." My words are harsh, but she appears to calm down slightly.

"While your ideas of romantic statements are perpetually amusing, Ace, I don't think the boss would be too pleased if this deal is blown off." Bronx saunters over to where Reagan and I stand. I see that he's already hidden his knife once he realized that Reagan poses no true threat. At least not at the moment.

I hiss out a curse at the reminder. I can't leave Reagan alone, but I also can't just take her with me to a god forsaken drug deal. She would only be a burden at the moment. 

Bronx seems to sense the direction of my thoughts. "I'll go alone, you take care of things here. Plus, armed with my sharp wit and handsome good looks, I'm sure things will run smoothly."

"Considering you obviously lack both of those traits, I wouldn't count on it." Reagan mutters. 

I turn to her in shock and slight amusement, surprised that she's still able to muster up some sarcasm even in her current state. Luckily, Bronx doesn't overhear her retort and instead waits for my reply. 

I find myself nodding, but I still hesitate. Letting Bronx go without backup isn't a wise choice.  Despite his experience I don't have a good feeling about this. The boss had wanted the both of us to go for a reason.

Damn it.

Taking out my gun, the cold steel weapon offers me a small amount of comfort as I hand it over to Bronx. He nods his head at me in thanks. Once it's inside his leather jacket, he shoots me a quick grin.

"I'll be back within the hour, and I'll even let you keep your part of the dough for letting me borrow this." He pats his chest where the gun lays. Turning to Reagan, he performs a small bow. "It's been a pleasure milady." 

With a smirk on his face he ambles out of the alley whistling a merry tune.

I shake my head as Reagan looks slightly bemused, her forehead creasing with lines.

Once Bronx is out of sight I take a moment to type out a quick text to the clean up crew with the address I'd promised. I've just hit send when Reagan brushes past me, looking much steadier on her feet. I just stand there for a few seconds before realizing that she's waltzing right up to the exit of the alley.

"Where the hell are you going?" My raised voice halts her steps and she glowers at me. I'm startled by the sudden change in her demeanor.

"Well I'm not going to get anything done standing around in an alley with some second hand fighter."

I let out an offended scoff. "Sorry for the news flash so early in the morning, angel, but if anyone is second hand here, it's you. Or have we already forgotten a certain incident involving car keys."

She bristles at the mention of this and I give her a smug smile. 

Our first little encounter definitely bruised her ego a bit.

As though hearing my thoughts, she sticks up her middle finger before turning around. I grab her wrist, stopping her from walking further towards the exit. Her free hand raises, and I let go abruptly before she can punch me. 

"As much of an inconvenience as you've been, I don't want to see you wind up dead. I already have enough on my conscience, angel. I don't need some girl being the reason I end up in hell."

She snorts. "I thought you were already destined to go there." 

Her careless jab hits home, and I have to struggle to keep my face emotionless. She doesn't know that this life which I lead will always be the lesser of two evils. All she sees is a cold, low down fighter struggling to make it out alive each week. 

She continues on. "What would you presume I do then 'oh wise one'?"

For a moment I consider letting her find her own way like she'd been ready to do, but then I remember that I'm trying to lessen the load on my conscience, not burden it with more. Plus, it's not like she hasn't already seen the wrong side of the law.From the looks of things she's already in some pretty deep shit. Turning her loose to fend for herself would only make things worse. 

I sigh and run a hand through unkempt hair. "You can come with me. I have a place you can crash at while you figure out what you need to do."

Uncertainty flashes across her face as she bites her lower lip. She crosses her arms, and my eyes are drawn to her shirt which has streaks of dried blood and dirt strewn across it. Ripping my eyes away, I see her nod warily.

I sigh and glance at her one more time to make sure she's actually alright with this. When she nods again in agreement at my questioning glance, I tell her to follow me. 

We step around piles of trash and a rat scuttles in front of us when my boot knocks into an empty pizza box. Reagan startles and she careens into me. My hands shoot out instantly to steady her. She pulls away the second she regains her balance. As we reach Reece's body, repulsion crosses Reagan's scrunched up face as she stares intently at it. Once we've passed the body I expect her to fire questions at me, so I'm shocked when she simply smooths out her face.

She'd overheard my phone conversation and even seen the body for herself, yet now all she's done is fallen into silence; not having asked a single question.

I shove my hand into my jacket pocket and something rustles. Recalling the piece of paper which I'd taken from Reece, Reagan is shoved from my thoughts. 

The second I find a moment alone I need to read what's written on the paper. It could be the key to figuring out what really happened to Reece. And if his death really was the result of torture then I won't stop until I find out what the hell Reece knew—and who had been willing to kill for it.