Prologue
I see you judging me. I know what
you’re thinking. She has to be a slut; she works at a strip club and takes off
her clothes for money. Yes! I work at a strip club, and you may think I’m a
whore for showing off my body, but this is a talent that has been forced down
my throat since I was a young child. Look pretty and smile. I put on a show for
those who choose to watch. However long I’m on stage, I’m not even me. It’s
what I imagine an out of body experience would be like—a performance, nothing
more, nothing less. The people watching make assumptions about who they think I
am, or cook up a story in their heads of whom they want me to be. I’m just
another beautiful face.
Beautiful. I hate that fucking word. Who gives a crap if someone is
attractive on the outside if they are dying inside? My whole life has been
about what I look like. I swear, the only reason my mother kept me was to have
a real-life, living, breathing doll she could dress up and control, which is the
exact reason why as soon as I became eighteen, I got as far away from her special
brand of crazy as I could. That’s also why I don’t date. The first thing guys
do is look at me and see a pretty face, a nice body, and an empty space where
my brain’s supposed to be. They have no interest in getting to know the person
I am on the inside. They don’t care I volunteer my spare time, and they couldn’t
care less I’m going to school to be an RN. They don’t ask about my hopes, my dreams,
or about where I see my life in twenty years. They don’t care about me at all.
They just want someone pretty
to follow them around and tell them how handsome they are, how special they are,
while agreeing with everything they say. Fuck that! I did that for too many
years. That’s why I live inside books. At least there I can choose where I want
to be—from the highlands of Scotland, to a king’s bed in a faraway land—and even
if it’s pretend, sometimes that’s a lot better than reality.
Chapter 1
I
look out the plane window, my finger going to the glass, feeling the cold on my
fingertips as I look out at the land moving quickly below me. It’s funny how
from up here, everything looks so small. I never traveled in a plane before
today; just the idea of being trapped inside a tin can while flying at six
hundred miles an hour never appealed to me. I take a breath and look at the TV
monitor that’s in the seat in front of me. The small, animated plane on the
screen shows we’re over halfway to Tennessee.
“Are
you traveling for business or pleasure?”
I
turn my head and look at the guy sitting next to me. He’s slightly overweight
and balding, but he also has wrinkles around his eyes, giving him the
appearance of someone who smiles often. I debate with myself on whether or not
to answer before replying, “Business.”
His
eyes drop to my mouth, then to my chest as I fight the urge to punch him in the
throat. I hate when men go from nice to creepy. I shake my head, turning away
from him. I don’t know why I even try. I feel a hand on my bare leg and my head
swings around quickly. “Touch me again and I will rip off your balls and feed
them to you,” I tell him in a soft tone, trying not to bring attention to us.
He quickly removes his hand before swallowing hard.
“I…I’m
sorry.”
I
shake my head before turning my body away from his. I feel tears sting my nose,
but I fight them back. No way am I going to cry now—not when just six hours
ago, my whole world exploded and I didn’t shed one single tear. I lay my
forehead to the glass, closing my eyes. I still can’t believe how fast my life
changed…
Yesterday
I
got up that morning and went to the hospital like I always do. I work at one of
the busiest ERs in Vegas. I’ve been working there since I finished school, and
was required to get my clinical hours for my RN certification. As soon as I
walked into the building, I was loaded down with work. Weekends are always
crazy in Sin City, but yesterday seemed worse than normal—two drug overdoses,
three stomach pumps, and one gun shot victim. Later, I was leaving the hospital
exhausted, only to head to my real job—well, the one that pays me the money I
need to live.
“Hey,
Angel.”
“Hey,
Sid.” I gave him a half-smile as I walked into The Lions Den, the gentlemen’s
club I worked at. Do I like to strip? No. Does it pay my bills? Yes. The second
I get on stage, I’m no longer me; my brain shuts off and my body takes over,
the same way it used to when I was growing up and my mom forced me into
pageants. I’m accustomed to being on display and used for my appearance. I wish
life was different, but it is what it is. Some people complain about being
overweight or having acne; for me, I hate being beautiful. I know it sounds
stupid; I mean, why would anyone complain about being attractive, right? Here’s
why: men see me as an object, and women see me as competition. No one is ever
willing to give me a chance; they all judge me by what’s on the outside, never
taking a second to find out even the smallest detail about who I am. I know I’m
a walking cliché; I hate being beautiful, yet I work in a business where I put
myself front and center to be viewed and judged.
The
difference? For the first time in my life, when I get on stage, it’s my choice;
no one is forcing me to do it. I get up there to earn the money so I can change
my life in a way that will make it where I never have to be objectified again.
“Tired?”
Sid questioned, following me. I had worked for Sid for the last three years. He
was a friend of sorts; he’s also my boss.
“Yeah,
I can’t wait until my clinical hours are over and I can start working at the
hospital full-time, instead of having two jobs.”
“I
don’t like that I won’t see your face all the time, but I know you need to move
on,” he conceded.
“Some
other girl will come in and you will forget all about me.”
“Never,
Angel.” His eyes move over my face and he shakes his head. “You’re working VIP
tonight.” He followed me down the hall towards the dressing rooms.
“Sure,”
I agreed, already exhausted. I needed a shower and a bed, but knew I was going
to be there for at least eight hours, so I might as well suck it up.
“The
guys coming in are important, so you need to make sure they’re happy the whole
time they’re here.”
“I
have done this before,” I reminded him, stopping outside the dressing room door
to frown at him.
“Normally,
I wouldn’t say anything—you know that—but I gotta go get on a plane, so I won’t
be here to check on them.”
“I’ll
make sure they’re taken care of,” I assured him.
“Thanks,
Angel.” He kissed my forehead like he often did before walking away. I watched
him go for a second before pulling myself together.
“Oh!
Look who’s here,” Tessa said as soon as I entered the dressing room. I ignored
her and tossed my bag into my locker before pulling my scrubs off. Tessa is a bitch;
she is just like the girls I used to compete against in pageants. To her, life
is a competition, and she is determine to come out the winner, even if she has
to throw everyone else under the bus on her way to the top. “Mick said I could
work VIP tonight,” she said to one of the other girls in the room. I ignored
her, knowing better than to tell her it wasn’t happening. I was sure Mick did
tell her that…after she took him in the backroom and gave him something to
convince him. “Pixie said the guys coming in are some big-time land developers,
so you know the tips are going to be outrageous. Thank God, because I need to
have my tits redone, and that shit is not cheap.” I rolled my eyes and headed
for the shower room. I had met a couple nice girls during my time here, but
most were just like Tessa—a whole lot of hair, tits, ass, and not much else.
I
stood in front of the mirror and put on a coat of red lipstick before standing
back, looking myself over. The VIP dress code is different than the rest of the
club. The required outfit consists of a sheer, black overlay bra, black silk
panties, a black garter belt with sheer hose, and black heels. My long,
naturally red hair was pulled back on one side by a large flower; the rest was
loose and wavy, flowing down my back and one shoulder. My creamy white skin,
red lips, and smoky eyes made me look almost like a sexy vamp.
“You
ready, Angel?” Sid asked, pounding on the door.
“Showtime,”
I whispered before opening the door.
“You
look beautiful; I’m going to take you in there and introduce you before heading
out.”
“Sure.”
I followed him down the hall to the club. The Lion’s Den is well-known in the
area for its exclusivity. The walls are painted a dark brown, and the booths
are designed into the walls, making the space feel intimate. The stage is in
the center of the room, with a single spotlight shining down on it. Every booth
has a girl assigned to it, and VIP has two girls. We aren’t allowed to interact
with the customers without being asked directly to do so.
The
club is less of a strip club, and more of a place for men to hangout and drink
while having beautiful women tend to them. If they choose to, they can watch
the girl in the center of the room put on a show. I had been on stage several
times in the three years I’ve worked here. I never told Sid I didn’t like it up
there, but he normally put me in VIP, or assigned me to a booth for the night.
“Why
are you so worried about these guys?”
“They’re
thinking about opening up a Lion’s Den in one of the new casinos they’re
building.”
“That’s
huge! Congrats, honey.” I squeezed his bicep and gave him a smile.
“One
day, Angel, I’m gonna take you away from this place and show you happiness. I
wanna see that smile everyday.” My heart did a little thud. Sid is a very attractive
man, but he’s not for me. I don’t want or need a man; they get you all
discombobulated, filling your head with a bunch of lies then expect you to
follow them around. I did that once. I thought a man was going to save me from
the hell I was living in. I gave him my virginity and my heart, and he gave me
a child I wasn’t allowed to keep and a heart so broken nothing or no one would
ever put it back together again.
I
looked through the two-way mirror at the men around the table in the VIP room.
“All
right,” Sid says from beside me, “the man in the center at the table is John
Barbato; he is the owner of three of the largest clubs in the city. The guy
there on his left is Steven Creo; he’s some big wig on Wall Street and has
backed more than half the new clubs and casinos opening on The Strip. The guy
to the right of John has a location they’re interested in purchasing.”
“Got
it. Who’s working with me?” I asked him.
“Tessa,
Mick said she would be the best out of the girls we’ve got on the schedule tonight.”
“I’m
sure he did,” I mumbled, looking back into the room. “What other bouncers are
on tonight?” I hated when Mick and Craig worked together; they were both more
concerned about hooking up with the girls than what was going on out on the
floor.
“Link’s
here now.”
“Good.”
Link was a good guy and a close friend. He also took his job seriously.
“All
right, let me introduce you quickly before I head out.”
“Sure.”
I followed him into the room; the men’s heads turned in our direction smiling.
“Guys,
I want you to meet Angel. She’s gonna be your girl for the night. You need
anything, you ask her, and she will make sure you’re taken care of,” Sid tells
them, gesturing to me.
“Nice
to meet you,” one of the men said, smiling while the others nodded.
“Nice
to meet you.” I smiled back.
“Angel
will be right back; give me a minute guys.”
“Sure,”
the one that spoke before said. As Sid and I stepped away, I heard from behind
me, “Do you think the curtains match the drapes?” and they all laughed. I hated
that saying, and I swore once I was free of this lifestyle, I would kick the
next man in the nuts who said it.
“Okay,
I gotta head out. I won’t be back for two weeks,” Sid said once we were
standing in the hall.
“Have
a safe trip.”
His
eyes searched my face. His mouth opened and closed like he was going to say
something, but instead, he shook his head, kissed my cheek, and walked off down
the hall muttering something under his breath.
Tessa
came around the corner a couple seconds later with a smug smile on her face. I
hate to admit it, but she is beautiful. Her skin has a natural glow that makes
her look healthy and youthful. Her hair is black and thick, reaching the top of
her ass. Her eyes curve out at the corners, showing off her Asian-American
heritage. “You ready?” she asked, looking at me from head to toe. I avoided
rolling my eyes at her before stepping into the room behind her.
After
we took the first orders, we stood back while the men talked. I learned a long
time ago to zone myself out. We were there as eye candy and nothing else. There
was a knock on the door, and I knew the drinks had arrived. Tessa answered it,
opening the door wide, and the man who brought the tray in was someone I had
never seen before. He looked to be mid-thirties, had long, shaggy black hair,
and brown eyes. When he set the tray down on the table in the corner, he turned
and did something odd that had me watching him more closely. His hand went to
his back as he looked over at the men who were still busy talking. When his
eyes came to me, he smiled before walking out of the room. I looked at Tessa to
see if she had noticed anything strange, but she was busy handing out the
drinks and flirting with the men at the table.
We
stood to the side again once the men had their drinks; every once in a while,
they would ask me a question about the club, and I told them what I knew. About
thirty minutes after they had their first drinks, I called and had more ordered.
This time, when the guy came in, he did the same thing—hand at his back,
looking at the table. I had no idea who he was, but planned to find out as soon
as the men left. One of the men received a phone call and stepped out of the
room, and when he returned, he had another man with him. They all sat down, and
this time when they called me over, they wanted a bottle of Chives Regal Royal
Salute Scotch. One glass of the stuff cost close to six hundred dollars, making
it over ten thousand dollars for a bottle. I placed the order and waited for it
to be delivered. When the knock sounded on the door, I opened it up, and the
same man from earlier came in and set the tray down. I watched to see if he
would do the same thing he had done the previous times.
Sure
enough, his head turned towards the table and his hand lifted behind his back,
but this time, he lifted his jacket, pulling out something black. It took a
second for me to realize what it was, and by that time, it was too late. He let
off four rounds in rapid succession, then turned and fired a round, hitting
Tessa. I screamed as he turned the gun on me, and before I could think, I
ducked down and ran as fast as I could out of the room. I felt a bullet whiz
past me as I turned the corner, and another as I entered the main part of the
club. I spotted Mick; right away his eyes got wide and I yelled at the top of
my lungs, “HE HAS A GUN!”
Everyone
started screaming and running in every direction. I ran into a solid wall, and
when I looked up to see it was Link, he wrapped an arm around my waist, turned,
and pushed me behind the bar. I stumbled in my heels, falling to my knees and
hitting the ground hard. I crawled under the counter and curled myself into a
ball, shaking out of fear for my life. I listened as people screamed, but
didn’t hear anymore gunshots. I don’t know how long I stayed like that, but it
felt like forever until I heard police sirens.
“Autumn,”
Link called my real name, snapping me out of my terrified huddle. I peeked out
from behind my hands as he crouched down in front of me.
“Did
you get him?” He shook his head, putting out his hand for me to take. I shook
my head no—I was safe; I didn’t want to move from that spot.
“Come
on, Angel, he’s gone.” I shook my head again. “Nothing is going to happen to
you. I promise you’re safe.” I swallowed against the lump in my throat,
squeezing my eyes closed.
“Tessa?”
I asked him. His eyes closed and his head dropped forward. “No,” I whispered,
shaking my head. “No.”
“Sorry,
Angel,” he said quietly.
“Why?”
“Not
sure, but the cops are here. I need you to come out of there so you can talk to
them,” he told me gently, holding out his hand again. I nodded, reluctantly
taking it. Even though I didn’t like
Tessa, she didn’t deserve what happened to her. None of the people in the room
deserved what happened to them.
“I
should have tried to help her.”
“Nothing
you could have done,” Link said, and my eyes went from to the floor to his. He
shook his head, wrapped his beefy arm around my shoulders, and walked me over to
a barstool. I sat there until the cops came up a few minutes later and told me
they needed to talk to me at the station.
“Can
she get some clothes on?” Link—who had given me the shirt off his back and
hadn’t left my side—asked one of the detectives.
“Sure,”
the guy mumbled.
I
slid off the barstool and dazedly walked to the dressing room. When I walked
in, all the girls were there, huddled together and crying. I didn’t know what
to say to them; most of them had been friends with Tessa. I felt horrible they
had lost their friend, but was unsure if they would want me to express my
condolences. I walked to my locker and started to pull off my stockings when
one of the girls came up to me, wrapping her arms around me. Shocked, I hugged
her back, and more of the girls gathered around me. We all stood there silently
for a few minutes; most of the girls were crying while a couple mumbled about
how everything would be okay. I wasn’t sure anything would ever be okay again;
I just watched five people die and was lucky to still be alive.
“I
have to go with the police,” I told the girls when it didn’t seem like they
were going to let me go. After a second, they all started breaking away from me
one-by-one, giving me reassuring hugs.
“Call
me if you want to talk,” one of the girls, Elsa, said, handing me a business
card with her personal information on it. I looked at it for a long second
before nodding. I had never really been friends with any of them. Maybe that
needed to change. I went to my locker, pulling off my clothes before slipping
on a pair of jean shorts, a black tank top, a large, oversized grey sweater,
and a pair of black flip-flops. I grabbed my bag, shoved everything into it
from my locker, and left the room without a backwards glance.
Link
was waiting for me outside the dressing room door, his back against the wall,
his head tilted back, looking at the ceiling. I had known Link since I started
working at The Lion’s Den. He was a nice guy, blonde hair cut low to his head,
tan skin, blue eyes, and a southern drawl that made women fall to their knees.
He used to flirt with me when I first started, but when I didn’t return any of
the banter, he laid off and became a friend. He’s one of the only people who
knows about my past and the things I’ve gone through. “You didn’t have to wait
for me,” I told him, pulling my bag across my body.
“I’m
not letting you go through this alone.” He pulled me into his side. I could
feel tears sting my eyes, and I fought them back. I wasn’t going to cry until
this was all over, when I could do it alone, hiding under my covers with my
face stuffed into a pillow…like I always did.
“Thank
you.”
He
gave me a squeeze, and I felt his lips at the top of my head.
*~*~*
“I
don’t understand why I have to leave the state,” I told Link, putting another
pair of shoes in my bag. I had no idea how long I would be gone, and Link made
it sound like I wouldn’t be able to come back to Vegas for a long while.
“Angel,
I hate to remind you, but you’re the only witness, and from what the cops said,
the guy is a killer paid by the mob to do hits on people.”
I
sighed, looking around my house. I hated I was leaving, but knew it was for the
best. I was at the police station for over eight hours going over what happened
then sitting with a sketch artist. Somehow, the guy who had shot Tessa and
those men had avoided every camera in the club. The cops informed me I needed
to be extra cautious. I was the only witness, and they were concerned he would
come after me. When Link found out what they said, he made a call to one of his
friends from back home in Tennessee and asked if he would be willing to let me
stay with him until the police caught the guy. The man, Kenton, agreed, telling
Link I would be safe. I hated I was leaving my home, but if my only options
were either death or moving, the choice was begrudgingly clear.
“I
hope they get the guy fast,” I mumbled.
“Me
too, but until then, you will be far away from here where your safe.”
“Are
you sure it’s a good idea to have me stay with this guy? I mean, how well do
you really know him?”
“We
were best friends growing up. He’s a good guy; you’ll be safe with him.”
I
bit the inside of my cheek and nodded before going into the closet to get
another suitcase. Might as well pack enough stuff to last me. Once I was all
packed and ready to go, we got into Link’s SUV and headed for the airport. I
was nervous the whole way, feeling like something crazy was about to happen…
Today
“Ladies
and Gentlemen, we’re about twenty minutes out from our arrival destination. The
weather in Nashville is mostly clear and sunny; the temperature is eighty-five
degrees. The pilot has now turned on the fasten seatbelt sign. Flight crew,
please prepare for landing,” I hear through my sleep-ridden state and lift my
head from the wall where I had rested it. I wipe my mouth with the sleeve of my
sweater before looking around to see everyone is putting their belongings away.
I make sure my seatbelt is secure before sitting back. My leg starts bouncing
up and down quickly, and I rub the tattoo behind my ear, trying to think about
something other than the plane landing.
Once
we are on the ground, I wait until everyone is off the plane to make my way out
into the terminal. I go to baggage claim and look around, but I have no clue
what this guy looks like. All I know is that his name is Kenton, and he is
supposed to be picking me up.
I
don’t see anyone who looks like they’re searching for someone, so I go to the
conveyer belt and spot one of my bags as soon as I get there. I pull it off,
stumbling back slightly from the weight, as every guy here just watches me
without offering to help. I look around again, wondering if I’m supposed to
call someone to tell them I landed. I pull my phone out, click it off airplane
mode, and send a text to Link letting him know I had arrived. He sends me a
message back letting me know Kenton had called and told him he couldn’t make it
to pick me up, and I should just catch a cab to his house; the door would be
unlocked.
I
shake my head, cursing under my breath, and almost miss one of my other bags
going around the belt. Luckily, I catch it at the last second. I carry it over
to my other bag, and turn around just in time to see my last bag about to go
through the tunnel. I run as fast as I can in my flip flops, and land half-on
the conveyor belt, my bottom-half being dragged along the floor as I grab the
handle of my bag, pulling it back so hard it flies over my head, causing me to
land on my back with my hands over my head.
“You
must be Autumn,” I hear rumbled from above me. I tilt my head back and look up
at the man standing over me. He’s upside-down, but even from my awkward
position, he is good looking. His chuckle makes me grit my teeth though, and I
stand up, putting my bag on its wheels before turning back to face him.
“You
are?”
He
raises a brow to me, shaking his head, looking me over from head to toe. My
body heats immediately under his gaze. I take my sweater off, wrapping it
around my waist and clearing my throat. “You are?” I ask him again, getting
annoyed that he’s obviously finding this so funny if the smirk on his face is
anything to go by.
“Kenton.”
He smiles. “Those bags yours?” He nods towards my other two bags.
“Yes.”
I blow some hair out of my face, looking into his blue eyes and wondering why
the hell I feel so hot all of a sudden. He looks away, going over to my bags
while I take the time to look him over.
He’s
tall—much taller than my five-five. His hair touches the edge of the black
t-shirt he has on. He needed a cut a while ago, but judging by the dark scruff
along his jaw, I can tell he doesn’t care much about grooming. His shoulders
are broad, tapering down to a lean waist; his thighs are thick, incased in a
pair of dark jeans that have shredded around the bottom by his heels, and his
wallet is imprinted in the back pocket like he wears them often. I look at his
ass as he leans over. I can’t believe I’m checking a man out; I’m not one to be
the slightest bit sexually interested in anyone. My eyes travel lower, looking
at his feet, which are enclosed in a very large pair of black boots. I wonder
absently if what they say is true about shoe size. I shake my head at my
thoughts, dragging my bag with me towards him. “I thought you couldn’t make
it,” I tell him when I reach his side. My head tilts back to look up into his
eyes.
“Yeah,
change of plans,” he mutters, looking at me. I wait to see if he’s going to say
anything else. Apparently, he isn’t going to, so I shake my head again and
lower my face towards the ground. “You tired?” His voice is dark and rich, and
does something crazy to my insides. I nod, lifting my head. “Let’s roll; you
can sleep when we reach the house.”
I
don’t say anything else. Something is wrong with me; maybe I’m getting sick. I
follow him out of the terminal into the car park. When we reach the parking
lot, he stops and pulls a set of keys from his pocket. I hear the beep and look
around, expecting him to be driving a large truck, a Hummer, or maybe even a
tank. I never expected him to be driving a Dodge Viper, the black-on-black of
the car only making it look hotter. I look at my bags, wondering how we will
get them in the car.
“It’ll
be tight, but they’ll fit,” he mumbles, pulling my other two bags with him. I
can’t help noticing the flex of his muscles as he gets my bags into the car, or
the fact even his fingers are attractive. It takes some maneuvering, but he
does get my bags to fit. I sigh, sitting down on the warm leather once we’re
done. “I’m just gonna drop you off at the house. I gotta head out for a bit,
but you have free rein. Just make yourself at home; there’s food in the fridge,
and fresh sheets on the bed in the guest room.”
“Thank
you for doing this,” I tell him, looking at his profile. He is seriously good
looking, and the butterflies in my stomach are making me feel anxious about
staying with him.
“Don’t mention it. So…you and Link?” It took a
second to decipher his words between the thickness of his accent, his smell,
and the nervous energy I was feeling. Being in his presence, my brain seemed to
have shut down.
“He’s
a friend.” Shit, maybe I should have said he was my boyfriend. I looked over at
him again; he didn’t seem to be as on edge as I was. He was probably used to
women swooning over him. My gut
tightened with something, and it took a second to realize what it was. My body
froze. Jealousy, really? I must be going into shock or something—I don’t get
jealous.
“How’d
you two meet?”
“We
work at the same club,” I murmured, squirming in my seat.
“Oh
yeah,” he mumbled, his knuckles turning white from his grip on the steering
wheel. I didn’t know what that meant, but the energy in the car changed, making
me want to get away from him.
We
drove in silence for the next half-hour, the car winding its way through one
small town after another until we went up what seemed like the side of a
mountain. The area was surrounded by forest on either side of the road. We
drove for about five minutes more before turning onto a dirt road that took us
deeper into the forest. I wanted to ask if he lived out here and about where he
worked, and a million other questions, but my mouth had gone dry, and the
energy in his car hadn’t gotten any better, so I decided to keep my mouth shut.
I
was going to be stuck with him for a while, so I figured there would be time
for all of that later. I looked ahead of us, and squinted as the image of a
large house came into view. It was a very large brick house; the front had two
porches, one on the first floor, one on the second, and both wrapped around the
front of the house. It was beautiful and expansive. I looked over at Kenton
again, gaging if I should ask him if this was his house. His jaw was ticking,
and the vein in his neck was pulsing wildly. I had no idea what had set him off,
but figured my best bet was to sit there quietly until he calmed down.
We
parked in front of the house, where there was no real designated parking place.
He unfolded himself out of the car without saying anything, and I took that as
my cue to follow him. By the time I made it to the back of the car, he had both
of my bags out and was back on the driver’s side, sliding his seat forward so
he could get to the bag in the backseat. Without a word, he carried two of my
bags up the front porch and right into the house. I dragged my last bag with me,
following close behind him.
He
set my bags down at the bottom of the staircase, then turned to look at me.
“Your room is at the top of the stairs to the right. There’s a bathroom across
the hall you can use; I have my own.” He ran a hand through his hair and looked
me over again, anger apparent on his face. “I don’t want random men in my house,
so if you need to get off, take care of yourself.” I blinked at him as he
continued. “The code for the alarm is 4593; don’t forget to set it when you’re
in the house. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but you’ll be safe here.” Before
I even had a chance to form a complete thought, he was closing the door behind
him, shouting, “Set the alarm.”
I stood there for a few minutes, just looking
at the door, then I looked around for an alarm, but didn’t see one. Tears stung
my nose again as I recalled the look of disgust on his face when he told me to
get myself off. I said a silent, “Fuck you,” and looked at my bags then the
stairs, shaking my head—I could cry once I got settled in the room. I carried
my bags up the stairs one at a time, and by the time I was done, I was so
exhausted that I laid face first on the bed, put my head under the pillow, and
cried until I fell asleep.
There was a pounding on the door, and
I rolled, falling off the bed and onto the floor. “You didn’t set the alarm,” I
heard growled. I stood up, pushing my hair out of my face, glaring at Kenton,
who stood in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.
“I
looked and didn’t see the alarm to set it.” I copied his posture, crossing my
arms over my chest.
“You
should have called and asked me where it was.”
I
scoffed. “With what magic? I don’t have your number.”
“You
could have asked Link for it.” He shook his head.
“I’m
sorry, but if you wanted me to have your number, I figured you would have given
it to me,” I retorted.
“Did
you eat?” he asked, changing the subject suddenly and throwing me off-guard.
“Pardon?”
“Did
you eat something?”
“No,
and I’m not hungry; I’m just really tired,” I told him, rubbing my face. All I
wanted to do was go to sleep and forget about the last forty-eight hours.
“You
need to eat something,” he chided, uncrossing his arms and placing his hands on
his hips.
“Okay,
don’t get me wrong; I’m really thankful for you looking out for me, but I have
been taking care of myself for a very long time. I don’t want nor need a
babysitter.”
“Suit
yourself.” He shrugged then looked me over again, his eyes lingering on my
chest. I glanced down and groaned. Seriously? My boobs were in my bra, hanging
over the top of my tank-top. I quickly adjusted my shirt before narrowing my
eyes on him. He smirked, looking up into my face. “Make sure you set the alarm
from now on. The panel is inside the room off the entry, first door to the
right.”
“Got
it.” My body was doing that hot thing again, and I wondered why it kept happening
when he was around.
“All
right, doll, get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He let his eyes linger on
me for a few moments more, and then shook his head, stepping out of the room. I
went to the side of the bed and turned on the light before walking to the door and
shutting it. I leaned my head back, closing my eyes and breathing in deeply. I ran
a finger across my tattoo behind my ear before opening my eyes and looking
around. I could do this; I had lived through much worse and came out on top. I
just needed to get a plan in place.
