AN: Sorry it has taken so long to update! Looking forward to you guys' feedback, thanks for sticking with the story!

January 2001

Since his surprise visit to the salon around three months ago Billy and Hartley had spent a lot of time together, a fact she hadn't missed but the thought of bringing it up with him made her feel a little sick. As was now the norm on a Friday night they were headed to some party at someone's apartment and for once Hartley didn't feel nervous. Maybe it was the new fairly low-cut shirt Cindy had persuaded her to buy the other day or maybe it was the way Billy's arm snaked around her hips and made her feel safe.

As with every party Billy and his boys (and their various girls) all ended up in the kitchen, drinking and laughing. There was a sudden influx of older men around 2am and Hartley looked to Billy to see if this was going to be similar to the first night they met but the taller boy had a relaxed smile on his face. She followed his eye line to the guy that seemed to be the centre of things - he was tall and muscular with a chiselled jaw line. Between his carefully slicked down hair and dark leather jacket he oozed power and control.

"And who do we have here?" he asked as he approached the group, his deep brown eyes flicking over Hartley.

She chanced a glance at Billy and saw what she thought was a rather proud smile as his hand squeezed her hip, "This is my girl, Hartley. Hart this is Marshall Quinn."

Everything slotted into place now - this guy was Billy's boss, the guy who was grooming him to take over his role as gang leader one day.

"So you're the little firecracker makin' our Billy boy so happy recently, huh?" the older man chuckled as he clapped Billy's shoulder with his large hand.

She blushed, "I better be," she added quietly.

Marshall roared with laughter, "I like her, you better take care of her Darley, make sure she sticks around. We could use some honest women keeping you boys in check."

"I'll try my best," Billy laughed.

Hartley smiled and rolled her eyes. It was so nice to see Billy enjoying himself for a change - sometimes he carried too much stress and trouble around in his head and on his shoulders for an 18-year-old boy. She loved the smile that split his handsome face and the way his beautiful blue eyes twinkled like the ocean when he was messing around with the boys in his inner circle. She was starting to realise how lucky she was that he let her get as close as they had so quickly.

While Billy, Marshall and some of the boys chatted she noticed the people in the room looking over with what she thought was envy - she guessed that in this neck of the woods the drug dealers and gang lords were the ones that lived the high life - the ones that had some power over other people, the ones with the money, the ones with the connections. Sometimes she wished they were from a regular neighbourhood where people were jealous of the neighbour's new car or the promotion and pay rise of the lawyer next door rather than who had managed to sell the most meth that evening or who had survived the longest without a gunshot wound.

It wasn't much later when Hartley was in Billy's Mustang, parked across the street from her house.

She turned in her seat to face Billy, "So, earlier when you told Marshall I was your girl…"

He shrugged, "Well that's what you are, right?"

"Right," she beamed.

"Why do I get the feelin' I'm getting myself into something here?" Billy asked with a smile on his face.

Hartley raised an eyebrow and grinned, "At least you hope you're getting yourself into something."

He barked a laugh and shrugged, "Boys gotta try."

"I've got one rule," she held up a finger.

"Oh really," he drawled with a cocky smiled.

She edged a little closer to him, "No other girls."

He studied her pretty face for a minute and smiled slowly, "No other girls."

"Promise?" she asked.

Billy reached up and drew an x on his chest with his finger, "Cross my heart," he grinned.

Hartley leaned forwards and pressed her lips to his, pulling away just as he slid his hand onto her knee.

"See you later," she grinned, pushing herself out of his car and darting across the street to her house.

She couldn't help but smile to herself as she closed her bedroom door behind her.

"What in the hell time do you call this?"

Hartley spun from the door, jumping as her bedroom was suddenly flooded with light, and saw her step-father occupying the deep pink armchair next to the window, "Jesus Christ Murray, what's your problem? What the hell are you doing in here?"

He stood up, "What's my problem? My problem is your slutty ass stayin' out til all hours of the morning with God knows who, doing fuck knows what!"

She scoffed and stepped further into her room, "Since when did you give a shit about my personal safety? You're usually the one endangering it!"

The buzz from the couple of beers she had had earlier gave her a sudden burst of confidence at a rather inappropriate and unhelpful time.

"You remember who you're talking to, little girl."

"Don't call me that," she yelled at the sound of one of Billy's terms for her, "It's not like you're my fucking father anyway!"

Murray's eyes flashed with rage, "Damn right I'm not your daddy. No daughter of mine would be running around and whoring herself out to a bunch of dumbass gang bangers," he spat.

"I'm not a whore," Hartley cried.

He walked towards her and sneered, "Just you keep telling yourself that sweetheart. You think this guy thinks you're somethin' special, huh? Somethin' special?" He continued to advance on her but she was frozen to the spot, "He'll get what he wants and once you spread those pretty little legs he'll want nothin' to do with you no more. He'll pass you around all his little friends and then you'll be done. All used up until some poor schmuck comes along and takes pity on your sorry ass."

"No," she shouted and like an out of body experience she watched as her own hand came up and slapped his cheek so hard his head snapped to the right making the palm of her hand sting.

If he had seemed angry before he shot to a whole new realm of fury now. Quickly his head turned back to her and his own much bigger hand met her face, the heavy ring he wore tearing the skin under her right eye. His fists clenched at his sides, "You think you can just get away with that shit, huh? Think you can treat me like you treat your mother?

"You're the one that treats her like shit!"

It was like someone else had taken control of her body, Hartley guessed hanging around with Billy was starting to pay off at exactly the wrong time.

"Treat her like shit? I think I did a pretty nice thing takin' her and her bastard teenage kid in, putting a roof over your head. Where the fuck's your real daddy, huh? Banged up or sittin' shit faced at some bar, lucky son of a bitch," he reached forward and pushed her shoulders, hard.

Hartley winced as she made contact with the dresser behind her.

"Maybe that's why you like it so much with that Darley punk. He remind you of dear ol' dad?" Murray placed a hand either side of her head against the wall and leaned his face close to hers, "You think you're so fuckin' special - little butter wouldn't melt Hartley Carter. You're just like the rest of them, you're gonna let him knock you up and wear you down and you'll be stuck in this shithole for the rest of your sorry little life," he seethed through clenched teeth.

She shook her head, hands braced on the dresser against the weight of his body on her smaller one, and cursed the tiny whimper that slipped from her mouth, "No."

Murray tilted his head and grinned, "No?"

Hartley shook her head again and tore her watery eyes from the spot on the carpet she had been focussed on to meet his dark gaze, "No," this time she spoke firmly.

He opened his mouth but before any words could escape he gasped, dropped his hands from the wall and staggered backwards, "Little bitch."

Billy sat in his Mustang and watched Hartley dash across the street and up the half dozen stone steps to her front door, turning briefly to wave before she disappeared into the dark house. He slipped his phone out of his pocket and dialled Bodie's number, tapping his thumb on the steering wheel as he waited for his best friend and right hand man to pick up. A sudden light from across the street caught his eye and he glanced up to see Hartley's bedroom at the front of the house illuminated and that punk ass stepfather of hers standing with his back to the window. He flipped his phone shut and jumped from the car just in time to see his girlfriend's hand make contact with the older man's face.

"Fuck."

He ran across the street and threw his tall frame at the front door, expecting it to swing open with a twist of the handle. God damn it, why was she always locking doors behind her? Billy stood on the porch for a second and tried to think, what had she said that time she had snuck out and forgotten her key? He caught sight of the large stone planter in the corner and tilted it back, plucking the small silver key from underneath it. His hands fumbled with it in the lock, cursing as it almost slipped from his fingers, finally he clicked the door open and slipped through before closing it behind him again.

Quickly and quietly he made it up the wooden stairs and down the hallway until he came to her bedroom door and threw it open.

"Shit."

Billy couldn't believe what he was seeing. Hartley was standing in front of her dresser with her hands clutched in front of her and a look of terror on her face. He followed her gaze to the man lying on the floor between them, a pair of scissors protruding from his chest and dark crimson blood seeping into the cotton of his shirt.