CHAPTER ONE
PAPER HEARTS
“I hope you’re ready to dance, pretty girl, because I’d hate to have to cut off your face.”
As a child, Rinae learned the hard way of what happens when sharp silver blades met fresh, peachy flesh. Some times it was the skimming of a fingertip while chopping tomatoes for dinner. Other times, the cut was more sinister.
This time was no different; posed between two high-brick walls to a pair of neighboring brownstones, Rinae was backed into a corner. Literally. Rinae swore, light and high-pitched under her breath. Of course, the one time she decided to cut corners and take a shortcut to get home, not only did she get lost, but now she was held at knife point by a pack of teenage brats.
Groups of three, Jake would repeat to her and the rest of the crew, that’s the way to be. Take an alley alone, you’ll wish you owned a phone.
Dammit. Jake was going to kick her ass when she got home. Word traveled fast among the underground kids, especially when it came to a fight.
And right now it wasn’t looking good; Rinae was clearly outnumbered three to one. The skinniest of the bunch led the group, his pale skin clinging to his bones as if he hadn’t seen a cheeseburger except on billboards. Ragged, torn and faded clothing hung off his body in waves, a mixture of reds and blacks and browns piled in mis-matched layers. In all honesty, he looked like an emaciated, former anorexic model for some tragic French magazine featuring sad clowns and way too much Photoshop. The other two that lingered behind him blended into the background, both sharing equally bored expressions, as if picking some chick’s pocket wasn’t worth getting out of bed for.
Rinae barely paid attention to the two shmucks loafing in the back. The leader was the immediate threat; he was the only one showing a visible weapon, a switchblade with a chipped red handle, wear and tear dulling the finish where the kid’s hand gripped. As pathetic as it was, the knife was still a danger, and if she didn’t fast, she knew the end would be with the knife stuck in someone’s chest.
The boy flicked his wrist, twisting and flashing the blade. He was taunting her, maybe in some vague hope she’d give up any spare cash on her.
Licking her lips, Rinae juggled two options in her head. One, kick the crap out of all three of them, maybe snatch the blade and cut them up for a little life lesson. Or two, play pacifist and charm her way out. After all, those glittering green eyes of hers weren’t just there for show.
Flashing her fingerless, red gloved hands outward, she pulled a small and shy smile onto her face. “Come on now,” she baited in a light, breathless voice. “You wouldn’t hurt a little girl, would you?”
Hesitation, dark and confusing, flickered in his eyes as he blinked. It vanished as fast as it came, replaced by a deep burn of resentment that matched his brooding sneer. “I won’t ask again, sweetheart. You going to hand over the bills, or are we going to have to take a trip down memory lane?”
The tip of his knife pointed like a red laser to the faded scars that covered her sleeveless arms from wrist to shoulder. But instead of wincing at the stab to her past, Rinae caught herself laughing.
“You really think that’s how this is going to go?” She smirked, taunting her assailant with her calm and relaxed pose. She rocked on the back of her heels, dropping her shoulders by a fraction. Sure, the blade should have scared her, it was a knife after all. But where blades and fists intimidated other chicks in the city, Rinae thrived on the chance to kick the weapon wielder’s ass seven ways into next Wednesday.
Snapping her fingers, she pushed forward, biting back an audible laugh as the boy’s frame jerked. “Tell you what, I’m feeling on the generous end of things today, so I’ll give you a chance to witness an act of heavenly grace.” Her fingers combed through her hair recklessly. “You can pretend to be
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley