Текст книги "Tequila & Lace"

Автор книги: Kimberly Knight

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

The elevator door dinged, letting me know I had reached my floor. I followed the signs to the room number, doing my best not to trip over my own feet in the three and half inch stilettos I chose to wear. I slid the key in the door and let myself in. The wine was sitting in an ice bucket with a single glass next to it. I hadn’t drunk any since the night of my birthday, not wanting to bring back the memory.

I walked further in, trying to shake off my nerves. The suite was larger than your typical hotel room—almost like a two bedroom apartment. I walked toward the living room to set my purse down on the table where the wine chilled, passing a private massage room, a half bath, and a kitchenette.

I wanted to get the date started, so I set my purse down a little harder than intended to give my john a heads up I was there and poured myself a small glass of the white wine. I was terrified, but I needed to keep a clear head to get through the night.

Marco’s voice from seventeen years ago rang in my ears as I poured the wine. “You want to hold it by the stem so the wine doesn’t heat up by your body heat.”

When I lifted the wine glass to my lips, I saw someone come into the room out of the corner of my eye, then I felt him stop behind me before I could turn around. He grabbed my arms with a little more force than what I was expecting and caused the glass to crash to the tiled floor.

He leaned down so his lips were against the shell of my ear, “Don’t fucking move.”

His voice was as cold as ice and I stopped breathing as fear instantly rose from the pit of my stomach. I could feel every finger of his hands digging into my skin and I knew it was going to leave bruises. This was not right; this was not what I signed up for and shit was about to go downhill—fast.

Still holding me from behind, he started walking us out of the room, the glass crunching beneath our shoes.

“What abou—”

He gave me a sharp yank back, causing me to slightly trip and land against him. It was like hitting a brick wall and instantly sent a pain down my spine.

“Quiet. I didn’t give you permission to talk. You will only speak when I say you can. Now be a good little slut and do as you’re told.”

He threw me against the wall face first, my arms bracing the impact. Grinding his hips into my backside, giving me a glimpse of what the night was going to bring, he released me from his death grip and gave me a shove that sent me in the direction of the love seat faster than I anticipated, causing me to trip. I landed on my knees, catching the edge of the coffee table with my hand.

Fuck!

My body was sent into instant panic mode, I was terrified. This was not how the night was supposed to go down. I knew the shit Martinez’s girls were into, but this went beyond my comfort zone. I was expecting to offer companionship for the night, and the possibility of him bringing up negotiations for sex but turning him down.

What the fuck was I going to do now? How in the hell was I going to get myself out of this?

I was finally able to find my footing and stood, facing the couch. I didn’t dare turn to face him. My legs felt like Jell-O and I had to lean up against the plush seat cushion for support.

“Sit,” he ordered.

Like a deer in the headlights of an eighteen wheeler, I couldn’t move. My feet felt as if they were stuck in cement pillars.

“Did you hear what I just said, bitch? Sit!” The boom in his voice when he gave the last command was like a gunshot going off in my head and I did the first thing that I could think of—I ran.

When I got to the door, I twisted the handle and yanked. It budged only a crack before a large hand slammed it shut. The other hand twisted into the back of my hair and jerked me back.

“You stupid slut! Lucky for you, I like it when they fight.” He wrapped his free arm around my middle and started dragging me down a hall to what I assumed was the bedroom.

I kicked. I screamed. I tried to break free. It was no use.

He threw me onto the bed, straddled my hips and grabbed both of my arms and held them above my head. That was the first time I saw what he looked like as I continued to scream, twisting and turning, trying with everything in me to wiggle out from under him. He looked nothing like what I’d thought he would. He had the most piercing blue eyes I’d ever seen, perfect teeth when he would give me his evil smile, and even though we’d fought a little, his hair was still perfect on his head. This man could have been any woman’s boyfriend. Instead, he was committing a crime.

Still holding both of my wrists with one hand, he brought the other down and squeezed my cheeks. “Scream all you want, slut. It’s only gonna fucking turn me on that much more.”

He turned my head to the side and licked me from my collarbone to my earlobe. Bile rose up my throat and the tears started flowing. A sob broke free when he started to pump his hips. Removing his hand from my face, he grabbed the front of my yellow dress and yanked, causing the clasps from around my neck to break and giving him access to my breasts.

“Fuck, yeah. Just like I imagined. Fucking gorgeous.” He pulled my strapless bra down as well.

Gorgeous.

Paul.

What the fuck was I doing?

I was a trained FBI agent. I had a man who loved me, who made love to me. I wasn’t going down like this. Not after how far I’d come. I wouldn’t let history repeat itself. I was not my mother. I was better than that.

I stilled.

“Ah, someone is learning fast. Don’t fucking move or I will treat you like the cunt you are. Understood?” Not being able to speak out of fear that I would lose my resolve, I simply nodded.

He kissed me and I tried with everything in me not to struggle. Then as I’d hoped, he slid off of me and stood at the edge of the bed. Cracking my eyes open, I watched as he started to undo his belt buckle. I quickly surveyed the room, looking to see what I had at my disposal. A bedside lamp sat on the nightstand only a few feet away.

Taking a few deep breaths, I forcefully lifted my right leg, hitting him between the legs and watched as he crumpled to the ground. I knew I only had seconds, so I sprung up from the bed, grabbed the bedside lamp and slammed it against his temple. Holding the split top of my dress closed, I ran.

Was he bleeding? Had I killed him?

I grabbed my clutch, not wanting to leave anything behind for him to find me. Not wanting to take a chance on the elevators, I looked for the exit signs and headed for the stairs. Shit! I was twenty-three floors up and wearing stilettos. Flashbacks of my seventeenth birthday flashed in my head again. Once again I was fleeing down a flight of stairs from a hotel room, running for my life.

Knowing I had only seconds to spare if I didn’t kill him, I ripped off my shoes and started going down taking two, sometimes three stairs at a time. Once I got to the bottom, my heart felt as though it was going to explode, but I couldn’t tell if it was adrenaline or the stairs. I opened the doors and into the smoky, crowded casino, and ran straight into the bathroom. I went to the very last stall, locked the door, leaned my back against it and fell to the ground.

Then it hit me. Wracking sobs came up my throat and I couldn’t breathe. Memories from seventeen years ago filled my head. Life repeating itself. Feeling the bile rise at the thought, I struggled to my feet and emptied my stomach contents.

I wanted Paul.

I needed Paul.

I needed him to hold me. I needed to feel the protection that has always been the constant in his arms.

After a few minutes, I put my shoes on and exited the stall. Women looked at me, but no one said a word. What was wrong with society these days? Getting a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I looked like a whore who had just got slapped around by her pimp … I kinda was. Maybe the women thought I was only fighting with my boyfriend and it wasn’t their place to help me. If they only knew what I’d just endured.

I washed my mouth out, took a deep breath and left to grab a taxi to head home to Paul. I didn’t have the energy to drive myself home, and I didn’t know if the john would follow me. Paul was going to be pissed when he saw me, but I needed him. I had no one else, and if I didn’t tell him, I didn’t know when I would sleep again.

Chapter Eighteen

Paul

I was in the middle of browsing for houses to buy when the doorbell rang. I wasn’t expecting anyone this late at night. It was almost midnight for Christ sakes. I wanted to get a list of houses to look at with Andi because I was quitting S&R and would no longer be welcomed in the house I was living in. Andi would since she would still be working for the company, but that needed to change as well.

I peeked out of the dining room window and saw a taxi waiting in the street. Getting to my feet, I walked to the door and opened it as a body fell onto me.

“Andi? What the fuck?” My heart stopped the moment I realized it was her. Her beautiful brown hair was tangled, her yellow dress was ripped, and her skin was starting to bruise where there wasn’t already blood from cuts. “What the fuck happened?” I asked, hugging her against my body.

“You need to pay me!” the cab driver shouted from the street.

“I’m … fine. Just pay him,” she whispered and stumbled past me.

“The hell you are! You need to tell me what the fuck happened. Your date did this? Where’s your car?”

“Just pay him.” She fell to the floor.

“Baby …”

“Go!” She began to cry.

How was I supposed to leave her crying, bleeding and hurting in the entryway while I paid for a fucking cab?

“And—”

The Cabby honked and Andi whispered against the wood floor, “Please, just do it.”

I ran to our room, grabbed my wallet off of the dresser and bolted out of the front door, jumping over Andi in the process. After glancing at the meter, I pulled the bills from my wallet and tossed them at the driver before I ran back to her. She hadn’t moved in the few seconds I was gone. I scooped her up, kicked the door shut, then sat on the couch with her in my arms and rocked her, waiting for her to tell me what the fuck had happened before I lost my fucking mind.

“Baby, you need to tell me what happened before I lose my shit.”

“It was like walking into my seventeenth birthday again.”

Her body shook as tears soaked my chest. I held her tight against me, not knowing what else to do. I wanted to beat the ever living shit out of whoever did this to her. Who would book a date with someone to do this? A motherfucking asshole, that’s who.

And I was going to find him.

“He rap—” I couldn’t finish my thought as I pictured Andi being held down, a man over her and …

She shook her head. “No, I got away.”

I squeezed her tighter, my body relaxing a little as I sank into the couch, squeezing her harder against me. “Please tell me what happened so I can help you.”

“You …” She sniffed. “You can’t help me.”

“We can call Mark and he can call the police, have the guy arrested.”

She sprang from my lap. “Shit, I have to call Eric.”

I stood, reaching for her to bring her back to me. “Eric? Who’s Eric?”

Confusion flashed in her eyes as she stared back at me, not moving to my outreached hand. “No … No one. Mark can’t help.”

“What the fuck, Andi? What’s going on?”

She sighed and rubbed her forehead. Blood transferred to her hand and she stared at it as if she didn’t realize she was bleeding. “My date wasn’t with a client from S&R. There’s just so much you don’t know.”

“I’m not understanding this, Andi. You need to talk to me. Why did you have a date with someone not with S&R?” My hand was still in the air. I was hoping and praying she would take it, but she didn’t. Instead, she sank to the floor and started to cry again. I followed her and crouched down so I was on the same level.

“Because my mother sold me when I seventeen.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, baby.”

She looked up at me with tears in her eyes. I pulled her to me. I didn’t care if she wanted me to. This was the woman I loved and if she didn’t want to be in my arms, then she needed to speak up.

She didn’t. She let me hold her, her body shaking as she cried. “I want to save them all.”

“Save who?”

“The girls.”

She wasn’t making any sense. One minute we were talking about her almost getting raped. The next we were talking about her losing her virginity. And now we were talking about her saving women? How did they all link?

“What girls?”

“The ones like Nelly,” she sobbed.

Who the fuck was Nelly?

“Baby, please. You were attacked. We need to call the cops.”

She pulled back. “No!” She scrambled to her feet again. “No cops. I’m done. I won’t have any more dates outside of S&R. I promise.” She grabbed my head on each side, peering into my eyes as if she needed to get the point across. “I promise. I won’t have any more dates outside of S&R. No cops … please, Paul,” she repeated.

“Are you in danger?” She didn’t say anything. “Andi …”

She pulled back and started to pace. “Leah and Nina told me not to get mixed up with this crew. I didn’t listen.”

“Why?” I snapped, my hands instantly clenched.

“I wanted to help the girls.”

I got it. It was similar to what I did with my self-defense classes and how I showed people—especially woman how to shoot guns properly. But the question was why? “Why baby? Why do you feel you need to put your life in danger and help them?”

She groaned and started flinging her hands as she spoke. I could tell she was starting to get frustrated. “Because women shouldn’t be sold like I was when I was seventeen. We should be able to choose who we want to have sex with.” She stopped pacing again, dropped her hands to her side and I caught the sight of her lips starting to quiver again. “Don’t you get it?”

More tears streamed down her face and I pulled her to me again. Her head fit perfectly beneath my chin and I let her cry against my chest once more. “Aren’t these girls going on a date with these men and choosing to have sex with them or not?”

“Some … Some are. Some aren’t. Some are being sold without being told.”

“Like sex trafficking?” She nodded. “Baby, that’s the cop’s jobs. You shouldn’t put yourself in danger like that.”

She was silent for a long time as her crying eased. “I thought I could get through to the women. Make them quit working the streets.”

“This isn’t what you told me on our picnic.”

“I know, but I couldn’t tell you then. You would have thought I was crazy.”

I groaned and shook my head. “Fuck, gorgeous. I could have lost you.”

“Not a chance. I’m tougher than you think.”

I sighed. “I bet you are.” I leaned down and kissed her lips. She winced slightly. They were busted and tasted of copper. “We need to call the cops and tell them what happened.”

She shook her head. “No cops. They told me that if anything happened, they would be after me. I don’t want any more red flags.”

“Then we’re going to the range tomorrow. I’m teaching you how to shoot.”

She laughed. “You’re teaching me how to shoot?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Yeah. I can’t tell you to quit, but I won’t have my woman walking around waiting for something like this to fucking happen again and not be prepared. If you have a problem with that, then too fucking bad. Fuck, Andi, this is what I do!”

I was ready for her to quit, but I knew she wouldn’t. She was the independent type and there were things we needed to take care of before we took that step—like getting her another job.

She stared at me for a few seconds and smiled, then winced and touched her lips as if the dry blood cracked and caused her pain. “Do I win anything if I have beginner’s luck?”

How was she trying to lighten the mood right now?

I thought for a moment. “If you hit the target in the heart, you win mine forever.”

She laughed. “I thought I already had yours forever?”

“Of course you do, gorgeous. Let’s get you cleaned up. You had a long night.”

When I woke the next morning, she was already awake. I heard her on the phone as I walked by her room on the way to the kitchen. It sounded as though she’d changed her mind and had called the police to report the incident. She was telling them how it happened in room 2316 at the Wynn. I stood behind her closed bedroom door, listening, my blood boiling. But before she could hang up the phone, it struck me …

People didn’t make reports over the phone.

Chapter Nineteen

Andi

“Did you bring your license?”

Paul and I were making our way into the shooting range, he was smiling like a five year old who was getting ready to walk into a candy store. I, on the other hand, wasn’t so thrilled.

“Yes, but do we really have to do this? I already promised not to put myself in that position again. This is pointless.” Not to mention I could already shoot the wings off a fly. Okay, maybe not that, but I was good with a gun.

Paul stopped short, turned me and grabbed my face with both hands. “I’m not taking any chances. If anything would’ve happened to you, I …” I saw the pain and fear in his eyes before he brought his forehead to mine and shook his head.

“Okay, let’s go shoot.” I had to do this for him and pretend I needed to learn how to protect myself. I was certain the only way I was able to get away from the asshole last night was because I had training. If I were a normal hooker, I probably wouldn’t have been so lucky—or I’d have just let the fucker rape me.

After registering at the desk, Paul handed me a pair of ear muffs and we made our way outside. When we got to our station, there was an unloaded glock sitting at on the wood shooting table. Paul picked it up and handed it to me.

“Hold it, get familiar with the weight of it.”

Trying to lighten the mood, before he got another word out I giggled. “That’s what he said.” And it worked. He started that full belly laugh that I loved hearing from him.

After we’d finished our laughing fit, he pointed to a certain part of the gun. “This is the safety. You want this on until you’re ready to shoot.” I nodded, letting him know I was listening. I picked up the loaded magazine, slapped it into the butt of the gun and dragged the slide back.

He stared at me. “You sure you’ve never done this before?”

“I watch a lot of TV?” I tried to state it as a fact, but it ended up coming out like a question.

He loaded a target onto the carrier and pressed a button, causing it to glide back into position. He took a step back. “Okay, gorgeous, come on over.” With my gun still in my hands, I stood in front of him. He came up flush behind me and brought my hands up in front of me. “Hold it like this.” After positioning my hands, he continued, “These peaks up here are your sights. You want your target to line up with them. Go ahead and cock it.”

At the mention of cocking it, I rotated my hips back into his. He let out a hiss and grabbed my hips.

He leaned in, shifted a side of my earmuffs and whispered, “Careful, gorgeous, it’s hard enough not to bend you over this fucking bench and fuck you with everyone watching. Watching you standing here all sexy and strong with a gun in your hand is making me hard as a fucking rock.” I could feel his warm breath in my ear as he ground his now hardened dick into my ass.

I looked behind me. “It’s your fault. You keep talkin’ all sorts of dirty.”

He chuckled. “Okay, let’s focus before I do something that gets us kicked out of here for indecent exposure. Once you’ve kicked the hammer back, take aim and slowly pull the trigger back. Make sure you keep your arms stiff … tight. Keep your arms tight. The kickback can be a bitch.”

I did just that, but knowing I couldn’t let on that I knew what I was doing, I lazily took aim and pulled the trigger. My shot landed just outside the black rings on the target.

“Come on baby, you got this. Focus.”

Hearing encouraging words from Paul was all I needed. I took my stance and lifted my gun. Practicing my shooting at the range back in D.C., I used to imagine it was Marco’s face—or what I could remember from that dreadful night—plastered on the targets I shot at; now it was the face of the prick who tried to rape me.

I unloaded the entire magazine into the target, each one landing on the bullseye. As Paul had previously instructed, I flipped the safety on and lowered my glock, trying to get my breathing under control. I went stiff and froze, not remembering that Paul was standing behind me. I just blew my fucking cover. I knew it. When I turned around, Paul was gawking at me with his mouth open, trying not to smile.

“That has got to be the sexiest fucking thing I have ever seen. I had a feeling you’d rock this shit.”

I set my gun down on the table, walked over to him and placed a chaste kiss to his lips. “All right, sexy, let’s see whatcha got.”

Walking past me, he gave my ass a little swat. “Watch and learn, baby, watch and learn.” Letting out a sigh of relief, I cursed myself. It was getting harder and harder to lie to him. I loved him. I didn’t want to lie. I didn’t want to hurt him. After taking a few more rounds each, we called it a day. Although I knew what I was doing, Paul was an amazing teacher. If Gabe was like him, they were going to be expanding the self-defense classes sooner rather than later.

Paul threw an arm around my waist and pulled me in. “Let’s get home, gorgeous. After what I just witnessed, I wanna get home and love hard on my girl.” He kissed me senseless, leaving me breathless …

Again.

Just through the garage door, Paul spun me around and grabbed me by the waist and hoisted me over his shoulder giving my ass a slap.

“I think we both need to unwind tonight, baby. I see a bottle of tequila, two shot glasses and you naked in the near future.”

“Oh, so you’re a fortune teller now?”

He plopped me down on the kitchen countertop and made his way over to the cabinet he always kept stocked with liquor. “What’ll it be tonight, gorgeous?”

“Um … Jose?”

“Good choice.” He winked at me and I blushed. I wasn’t sure I would ever tire of the way he had that effect on me.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

After setting the bottle next to my thigh, he made his way to the other side of the kitchen and pulled out two shot glasses and the table salt just before grabbing a lime from the fruit basket. When he turned and caught me staring, he let out a chuckle.

“What? You have done tequila shots before, right?”

I hopped off the counter and made my way over to him, grabbed the lime to slice it into wedges and repeated the words he’d said to me at the firing range. “Watch and learn, baby, watch and learn.”

Then I grabbed all of the contents out of his hands except one of the shot glasses and turned to pour myself some Cuervo while Paul made his way to the other side of the counter and leaned on his elbows to watch. Knowing he was watching me, I gave the area between my thumb and pointer finger on my hand a slow, long lick with the flat of my tongue and grinned when I heard him groan.

I sprinkled the salt onto the spot I’d licked, grabbed a lime wedge with the same hand and my shot of Jose with the other, and gave him my best devious smile. “Cheers.” I licked my hand and tossed back the tequila just before lifting the lime to my mouth and sucking it.

Paul stood up and slowly walked over to me. The look in his eyes caused the junction between my legs to spasm. He looked like a wild cat closing in on his prey. “Oh no, no, no, gorgeous. You did that all wrong. Who showed you how to do a tequila shot? Let’s correct this, shall we?”

I nodded and bit my lip, stifling a squeal as he grabbed my waist and hoisted me back up on the countertop. Pulling the strap of my tank top down my arm with my bra strap, his eyes met mine briefly before he lowered his to the side to untwist the top to the salt shaker with one hand and empty it onto the granite countertop before pouring himself a shot. When he moved his face back into my line of sight, he was smiling.

“As I’ve said before, the correct way …” He fused his mouth to mine causing me to moan just before he disconnected, placed a lime wedge between my lips and whispered into my ear, “Is to take the shot …”

Lowering his head, he ran his tongue along the skin at my collar bone. Goosebumps spread across my entire body and I knew if he kept this up, I was going to end up leaving a wet spot on the counter from how turned on he was making me. I closed my eyes and tipped my head to the side to give him more access.

His lips left my neck and a hand came up and rubbed the coarse salt where his mouth had been. He leaned back down near my ear, and while placing the shot glass between my tits, he whispered, “… off someone else’s skin.”

I could feel the abrasion of the salt against my skin as Paul licked it from my neck. He cupped both of my breasts and lightly ran his thumb pads over my now oversensitive nipples while taking the shot glass from in between them with his mouth. He threw his head back to help the alcohol slide down the back of his throat before catching the empty shot glass between our bodies and setting it beside us. He then reached up, grabbed my face with both hands as he took the lime from between my lips and gave it a quick suck before he let that fall between us before he claimed my lips.

“Your way is much better,” I panted.

“I don’t like this,” Paul groaned, crossing his arms as he watched me apply the final touches of my makeup.

“We’ve gone over this. It’s an S&R date.”

“It’s too soon.”

“I’ll be fine.” I screwed the cap on the tub of my mascara and threw it on the counter. I started to walk down the hall to the kitchen.

“I’m going with you.”

I threw my head back and laughed. “You’re not going with me on my date.”

“Yes, I am.” He was talking nonsense.

I grabbed my purse off the kitchen table, needing to leave. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be fine. It’s an S&R date, not a top secret date that I will never go on again.”

So … that may or may not be true. I still needed more research. I’d had one date that ended badly. I didn’t know who Martinez was and I needed to find more girls who could get me closer to meeting him.

After the incident at the Wynn, I’d called the secure line for the FBI and reported it. I’d needed to let Eric know. I needed to report my findings, and if the man had died then the bureau could handle it since I was undercover and my DNA and prints were all over the room. I was also probably caught on camera fleeing the scene.

“Do you have your gun?” Paul looked down at my purse in my hands as I opened the front door. We bought me one at the range before we left. There was no way he was letting that slide even though I already had one in my room.

“Yes, sexy.” I kissed him quickly before walking out the front door. Paul grabbed his keys and started to walk toward the garage. “Where are you going?”

“Going on your date.”

I put a hand on my hip. “You’re serious?”

“As a fucking heart attack.”

I knew I wasn’t going to be able to stop him, so I rolled my eyes, got in my car and backed out of the driveway. When I pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, Paul parked beside me. I glared at him and shook my head.

“Gorgeous,” he called out.

“You better stay at the bar,” I whispered and kept walking, not wanting to bring attention to us. I didn’t want to stop in case my date was already inside the restaurant and could see. I wasn’t at a hotel because my date was only for lunch. I’d never had a lunch date before; maybe he thought it would end with a nooner. Guess we’d find out. I was getting good at turning them down for sex—minus Martinez’s guy who clearly got off raping women.

I walked into the Mexican food restaurant and to the hostess stand. “I’m meeting a Mr. Sanchez for lunch,” I explained.

She looked at her reservation list on her computer. “Yes, we have your reservation, but he hasn’t arrived. It says to go ahead and seat you.”

“Perfect,” I replied.

I looked over my shoulder and gave Paul a tight smile before following the hostess to the back corner of the restaurant. As we walked, I noticed the restaurant had minimal people, but yet she took me to the farthest corner of the restaurant. I didn’t think much of it. Mr. Sanchez had probably requested a quiet table where we could be alone and he wouldn’t get caught with an escort.

I sat with my back to the wall, facing the bar. I was able to see Paul and would see Mr. Sanchez when he arrived. I didn’t want to admit it but having Paul there put me at ease. I wasn’t in a hotel room and I would never be in one again with a client, but having my man there was like having backup even if I had my gun sitting in my clutch purse that was on the table.

The busser came over and left a glass of water, a basket of tortilla chips and a dish of salsa. I caught the gaze of Paul. I expected him to be sipping a Coke and tequila, but he too was drinking water. He winked at me and I blushed. I couldn’t help it. No matter how mad I was that he’d insisted on coming with me to my date, I still loved him with all of my heart. I knew he was only doing it because he loved me. I couldn’t imagine what would have happened if that man had raped me. It would have destroyed everything we’d built. I don’t think I would have been able to survive it, let alone the touch of a man again.

“Preciosa.” Gorgeous.

I looked up and into the same eyes I looked into every day in the mirror and blinked, unable to say anything. My mouth went dry. My heart stopped beating. I was certain I couldn’t breathe.

He unbuttoned his suit jacket and slid into his chair in front of me. “Have we met before?”

We had.

I’d raised him from the moment he was born until I went running for my life.

My gaze flicked to Paul’s—I needed him. I needed him to breathe because I couldn’t. This wasn’t happening. What did I do? How did I tell the man sitting across from me that he was my brother?

“That’s not possible. I know all the whores in this town.”

He didn’t recognize me, but I was sure of it. This was my brother. My gaze flicked down to his hand that was running along the condensation of the ice water. Along the inside of his palm was the mark from the cigarette burn my mother gave him when he was four and she’d used him as an ashtray.

I smiled tightly and took a sip of my water, trying to think of what to do. He’d hired me as an escort. Obviously I wasn’t going to—gross!