Page 77 of Deep (Chicago Underground 8)
“Tunnel?”
“It was a part of the underground railroad a long time ago. Now it’s just a fucking hole in the ground.”
“Oh.” I squinted my eyes against the dust, struggling to see down the tunnel—away from the pile of rocks blocking our path to the church. “Can we just…follow this? It must lead somewhere.”
“No. It’s not structurally sound, and more importantly, the ground is uneven. We don’t have a light. Our best bet is to wait here until they clear the rubble.”
I was afraid of that. “Rose and Drew probably went for help. They’re the ones who brought me here.”
“I know,” he said curtly.
I pressed my lips together, feeling the clench of panic again, the way I had locked in his bedroom. My chest got tight—filled with dust instead of air. I clasped my hands as if that could keep me calm. I couldn’t curl up on the ground again. Couldn’t fall apart again. Not in front of him.
“Philip,” I whispered. “I’m sorry about your brother.”
Silence. “He wasn’t right in the head. I saw that from the first time I met him. I tried to get him help but…”
My heart clenched at the thought of a younger Philip, hustling to make his way in a harsh city, trying to win custody of his sister but still worried about a brother he’d just met. “You did all you could.”
“You have no idea what I can do,” he said sharply.
That was probably true. I hadn’t thought he would lock me in his bedroom, alone with no one to watch over me. I hadn’t thought I would feel like I was suffocating on his floor while he was miles away. I hadn’t thought he was a monster,
even though he told me he was again and again.
“I know you saved my brother,” I said softly.
A longer silence this time, one that seemed to grow tighter and harder as the seconds ticked by. He shifted slightly, his body moving against rock, a whisper of strength against strength.
“I did save your brother,” he finally said, and there was a disturbing lightness to his voice that hadn’t been there before, as if his pain had evaporated, leaving only sharp and shiny crystals. “And I think I’d like to collect now.”
“Collect,” I echoed, a hollow pit in my stomach—as dark and cold as this caved-in tunnel.
“On the debt. Your debt.”
A shiver ran through me. “Now?”
“Of course,” he said. “Did you think I wouldn’t require payment on delivery? Those have always been my terms, from the time I sold pot on the street corner and solved problems in back alleys.”
Sex. He wanted sex. “We’re in a tunnel that almost came down. We almost died.”
“It’ll hold up a little longer,” he said, unconcerned. “The shooting is over.”
This was insane. And terrifying. “Philip, for God’s sake. We’re in a church. There’s a dead body on the other side of that rubble.”
“Which one of those things bothers you more?” he asked, sounding amused.
Deep inside I began to shake, trembling as hard as the rocks that had fallen around us. “Look. We don’t have to do this now. We don’t have to do this here. You’re upset.”
“I’m not upset. I’m simply trying to collect.” His voice got dangerously soft. “Unless you’re trying to get out of paying.”
“No,” I said quickly. “It’s not that. It’s just … Why does it have to be here? They’re going to come for us.”
“Not for an hour. I’ll be finished with you before then.”
The words hit me like a slap to the face. The past few days he had taken me for hours, moving my body into every sexual position I knew about and many that I hadn’t. Even though I should have known better, I believed that he would keep me. I’d wanted to believe he would let me in, emotionally.
Except no, he wouldn’t. He wanted a quickie in a cold dark cave, and then he would be done with me. He wanted his debt paid on delivery.
