Consent (The Loan Shark Duet Book 2)

  Consent

  The Loan Shark Duet (Book 2)

  Charmaine Pauls

  Published by Charmaine Pauls

  Montpellier, 34090, France

  www.charmainepauls.com

  Published in France

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Copyright © 2017 by Charmaine Pauls

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design by Kellie Dennis (www.bookcoverbydesign.co.uk)

  ISBN: 978-2-9561031-1-0

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  From the Author

  Also by Charmaine Pauls

  Sneak Preview of Aeromancist, The Beginning (Seven Forbidden Arts)

  About the Author

  Foreword

  Dear Reader,

  This is the second book of The Loan Shark Duet. The first book, Dubious, needs to be read before Consent in order to follow the story. Consent is the conclusion of this duology.

  Buy Dubious now.

  Dubious (The Loan Shark Duet, Book 1)

  Repulsiveness personified, that’s me. I own a mirror, and I’m not afraid to look in it. What you see on the surface is a reflection of what runs under my skin. I’m a loan shark. Breaking people is in my blood. The Haynes’s were supposed to be a straightforward job. Go in and pull the trigger twice. One bullet for Charlie, one for his sister. But when I saw Valentina, I wanted her. Only, in our world, those who owe us don’t get second chances. No way in hell will my mother let her live. So I devised a plan to keep her.

  It’s depraved. It’s immoral. It’s dubious.

  It’s perfect. Just like her.

  Buy Dubious now.

  1

  Valentina

  A baby.

  I’m going to have Gabriel Louw’s baby.

  Gabriel Louw.

  The most dangerous man in Johannesburg.

  Oh, God.

  I clutch a hand over my mouth to silence a sob and place the other over my stomach where our child is growing.

  While the taxi takes me farther and farther away from my captor on my impulsive escape route, my mind reels with a thousand thoughts. How did this happen? Did I forget to take my pill? I’m sure I took it every day at the same time. I even have an alarm programmed on my phone. Did I slip up? How? When? I haven’t taken any medicine that could’ve interfered with the contraceptive.

  For the life of me, I can’t think of an explanation. My rational mind, the part of me in denial, demands that I find proof that the pregnancy test is wrong, but my gut knows otherwise. The knowledge pounds in my ribs.

  I’m pregnant.

  And alone.

  I have little money, no job, and I’m running from Gabriel Louw.

  I’m in so much trouble. Now is not the time to figure out what went wrong. I need to think of how I’m going to stay alive.

  “Where to, ma’am?” the driver asks.

  When Gabriel finds out I’m missing, he’ll go after my brother. I give the driver Kris’ address and sink back in the seat, nauseous from fear.

  He glances at me in the rearview mirror. “Everything all right?”

  I lower my hand from my mouth and grip the door handle. I need to hold on to something. “I’m fine, thank you.”

  It feels like forever before we pull up at the clinic. I ask the driver to keep the meter running and skirt around to the back of the house where I won’t be visible from any of the clinic windows. I try the kitchen door, but it’s locked. I knock softly.

  Please, Charlie, hurry.

  For several painful heartbeats, nothing happens.

  Biting my nail, I run from window to window until I spot Charlie. He’s sitting on his bed, reading a comic book. I tap on the glass. The last thing I want is to scare him by pounding on the window. No reaction. I knock harder. I can’t afford to attract Kris’ attention. In the meantime, the taximeter is running a hole into the small amount of cash I have on me.

  Tap, tap.

  Finally, Charlie looks up. When he sees me, he calls out, “Va–Val.”

  I motion for him to be quiet with my finger on my lips and point at the window latch. Instead of opening it, Charlie hops from the bed and leaves the room.

  Don’t call Kris.

  A moment later, the backdoor opens, and my brother steps out.

  Beyond relief, I want to pull him into my arms and tell him we’re going to be all right, but I have to act normal.

  “Surprise, Charlie,” I whisper. “I came to fetch you. We’re going on a holiday, but you have to come quietly.”

  “Q–quiet,” he whispers back, mimicking my earlier gesture with a finger on his lips.

  There’s no time to go through the house and gather some of his things. I lock up so Kris will be safe inside and throw the key through the bars of the open bathroom window. Hooking my arm through Charlie’s, I lead him to the waiting taxi.

  Inside, the driver and Charlie speak simultaneously.

  “Where do you want to go?”

  “Where are we go–going?”

  Where are we going?

  Where can I run to where Gabriel won’t find me? A place like that doesn’t exist. If I’m to keep my wits about me, I have to ignore that notion. I’m no longer responsible for only Charlie and myself, but also for a third life. I have no plan of action. I pinch the bridge of my nose.

  Think, Valentina. Think.

  “Ma’am, where to?” the driver repeats, more impatient now.

  I can’t afford a plane or bus ticket to anywhere for myself, let alone for two people. There’s only one option left. Wherever we’re going, I’ll have to drive.

  “Ma’am?” The man turns in his seat and gives me a piercing look. “Is everything all right back there?”

  “Yes. We’re going to Berea.”

  He regards me from under his bushy eyebrows and says with a hint of disbelief, “Berea. You sure?”

  “Just drive. I’ll give you directions.”

  He holds my eyes for another moment before turning back to the front and pulling away from the curb. I exhale in relief, and squeeze Charlie’s hand to reassure him, happy that Kris hadn’t seen us. Charlie has wound down his window and is staring at the buildings that whiz past, oblivious to the lump of concrete in my stomach and the maddening fear pumping through my veins.

  I send a quick text message to Kris so she won’t worry when she finds Charlie gone.

  Charlie and I have to leave for a while. Sorry to sneak off like this, but the less you know the better. Thank you for always being a friend. Love you.

  A block from my o
ld flat, the driver stops. “This is as far as I go.” He motions at the street ahead. “That’s hijackers’ paradise.”

  I pay the extortionate amount and usher Charlie out before the driver can pose the questions I see in his eyes. The minute we’re on the pavement, he speeds off, happy to get out of here.

  “Va–Val.” Charlie kicks in his heels as I take his arm. “This is ho–home.”

  “Not anymore.” I give him a bright smile. “This is only where our holiday starts.”

  I have precious little time. It’s a matter of hours, minutes maybe, before Gabriel discovers me gone and puts a death warrant out for our lives. He’ll track my phone and be on our tail faster than I can say disappear, but if I want Charlie to follow hassle-free, I have to make him happy.

  We walk one block to a corner café where I buy Charlie a King Cone ice cream. While he sits down on the pavement to eat it, I call Jerry. The number rings and rings, and finally disconnects without going onto voicemail.

  Darn it. Jerry is my only hope. I try the special number he gave me when he was still supposedly watching over Charlie. It’s a number only me and some of his crime buddies have.

  This time, he picks up with a hesitant, “Val?”

  There’s no time to beat around the bush. “I need a car.”

  “What?”

  “A car, Jerry. Now.”

  “To buy?”

  “Would I have called a car thief if I wanted to buy a car?”

  He utters his refusal meekly. “I can’t do it. What’s going on? This isn’t like you.”

  I’ve always condemned his shady business, but now isn’t the time for my moral values to induce guilt. “After what you did to us, you owe me, damn you.”

  There’s dejection in his voice. “Val…”

  “Do you want to know what Gabriel Louw did to me because of your ignorant stupidity?”

  “Oh fuck. Oh fucking fuck. You’re running.” His voice trembles. “You’re running away from The Breaker.”

  “If he finds me, I’m dead. So is Charlie.” And the baby I’m carrying. “Please, Jerry. You got us into this mess. Help me get out.”

  There’s a long silence. I can almost feel the gears turn in his head. Just when I think he’s going to hang up, he says, “Where are you?”

  “Your place.”

  “Give me an hour.”

  “Thirty minutes.”

  “Goddamn, Val.” He takes a breath, as if to calm himself. “Wait at the side of the building.”

  “Thank you. You better show up. When I hang up, we can’t speak on this phone again.”

  He knows what I mean. I have to destroy the phone if I don’t want Gabriel to track me.

  “I’ll be there.” The line goes dead with a click.

  Charlie has finished his ice cream. I make him clean his hands on a tissue and throw the wrapper in the trashcan so I can go around the corner and crush the phone under my heel. There are too many tiny parts to discern a tracker, not that I know what to look for, so I stamp on everything again, just to be sure, and dump the lot in the trashcan.

  “Ready for our adventure?” I take Charlie’s hand. “Let’s go get our wheels.”

  We hide in an alcove from where I can watch the road. Thankfully, we haven’t crossed any thugs, but they’ll soon crawl out of their holes with the setting of the sun. I play a distracted game of noughts and crosses with Charlie, using a chalkstone I picked up in the road to draw lines on the brick wall.

  Thirty-five minutes later, an orange station wagon pulls up. The bodywork is dented and the metal rusted where the paint has peeled. My jaw drops when the rickety vehicle comes to a stop next to us and Jerry exits.

  “Jerry.” I throw my arms in the air.

  “What?” he says in an exasperated voice. “It’s all I could do on short notice.”

  “How far will this thing get us?”

  He pats the bonnet. “She’s good. I checked her out. Engine is a make-over, the full Monty.” He holds the key out to me. “Swapped the registration plate, too, but keep off the main roads, just in case.”

  “Thanks.” I snatch the key from his hand. “Let’s go, Charlie.”

  Jerry pats Charlie on the back as my brother rounds the car. “How’s things, my man?”

  Charlie gives him a high-five and a grin. When he’s buckled up, I look at Jerry through the window one last time before pulling off, heading for the highway.

  The engine makes a funny noise, and the body of the car rattles, but we make smooth progress and manage to get through Hillbrow without any hijacking attempts, courtesy of the state of the car.

  Once we hit the N1, my frayed nerves finally unravel. My hands start shaking on the wheel. A hot flush travels over me, making me break out in a sweat. My stomach is so tight it aches. I fight the urge to throw up. The summer smog is brittle and dirty, but I open the window to fill my lungs with air. As always, survival mode kicks in and numbs me to the fears and dangers of our situation.

  Charlie is looking through his window, humming a song. I manage to tweak the radio enough to find a Country and Western station he likes. Checking the petrol gauge, I groan inwardly. The tank is near empty. At the first petrol station after Midrand, I fill up and use my last cash to buy a few supplies from the Quick shop, which are mostly snacks for Charlie. I don’t dare withdraw money at the ATM with my card. It will be too easy to track. I should have remembered to do that before I started out.

  My gut twists and churns the farther we crawl away from Johannesburg, the city of gold that is ruled by a man as beautiful and ruined as the place itself, a man who’ll kill us if he finds us.

  When the skyline of Sandton disappears from my rearview mirror, a crippling notion of loss and loneliness hits me. The emotions throw me off kilter. Shock runs through me. I miss Gabriel. That makes me twisted and sick. It must be the hormones. Yes, I’m not myself. Uninvited tears sting my eyes. Swatting at them, I force my gaze on the road ahead.

  Don’t look back.

  There is only Charlie, me, and my baby now.

  We’ll make it. We’ll survive.

  I have no idea where I’m heading until we hit the sign announcing the three-way split. If we carry on straight, we head north toward Polokwane. I don’t know the area. The only remaining options are Bloemfontein or Durban. Durban isn’t as far away as Bloemfontein, and the weather is less harsh. Without financial means, Durban is the better option. Plus, I can make it there on a tank of petrol, whereas I’ll run out of fuel in the middle of nowhere, long before I hit Bloemfontein.

  The sign for the N3 appears. I change lanes and enter the interchange that takes me over the highway and east. With a flick of the indicator, I decide our destiny and future.

  Gabriel

  The guy I took out this afternoon was scum, but today the violence leaves a bad taste in my mouth. All I want is to go home to Valentina, crawl into her body, and melt into her bed. Things between us have changed. No matter how much I lie to myself, she’s no longer the toy I pickpocketed from her life. She’s something––someone––I want enough to break every rule in the book to keep. She’s no longer my captive. I’m hers.

  My addiction has grown over the months to an all-consuming obsession. Despite the coldness inside of me, she awakens emotions I thought I didn’t have. She makes me feel things I’ve never felt before––gratitude, regret, joy, and fear––and even if these feelings scare me shitless, I want more.

  When I get home, I dismiss Rhett and Quincy and go upstairs for a shower. I don’t want to face my girl covered in blood. Washing the stench of my sins away, I think about her and what I want to do to her body. The thoughts make me hard. If I wasn’t so impatient to plant my cock in her body, I would’ve made myself come first so I can last longer, but my urgency is palpable. I towel myself dry quickly and dress in slacks and a shirt.

  My heartbeat speeds up as I make my way to the kitchen. At this hour, Valentina will be ironing. It irks me to see her work so hard, to see
her work at all, but it’s not for much longer. The minute she falls pregnant, everything will change.

  Silence greets me when I enter the kitchen. The counters are tidy and wiped down. Marie has already left for the day. An eerie emptiness presses down on the space. I don’t like it. I quicken my step, putting my head around the scullery doorframe, but there’s no one. A sickening sensation settles over my body. Every nerve ending tingles. Rushing to the maid quarters, I jerk open the door. Valentina’s bed is made. Oscar is sleeping on her pillow. My leg hurts from the force I put on it as I limp to the bathroom.

  Empty.

  With a growing feeling of dread, I fling the cabinets open. Everything seems to be there. The cosmetics and bath salts I bought are neatly stacked. Back in her bedroom, I do the same with her closet. The clothes, shoes, jewelry, books, and other knick-knacks I got for Valentina are there. Still, something is wrong. I know it in my gut.

  Standing there, absorbing the chill from the descending night, the molecules of my body go flat and cold. An overpowering sense of abandonment fills me. Then the fear hits, hot and liquid, rippling over me in a wave. If Magda did something to Valentina… If she hurt her… I swear to God I’ll kill my mother.

  Making my way down the hallway to my office, I dig my phone from my pocket and call Rhett.

  He replies with a cheerful, “What’s up, boss?”

  “In my office. Now. Bring Quincy.”

  I hang up and rush through my office door, expecting an army or Magda, but what I see is a sheet of white paper on my desk.