Accidentally Hooked (The Naked Truth Series Book 1) (14 page)

“You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“Can’t I? He’s dead.” She hid her face between her hands, then turned her face to him, glossy eyes on his. “When I said I wanted to be there for him… I wanted him to be there for me too. That was the first anniversary of our mother’s death, and… That night, I wanted all of us together, too. I didn’t want to lose him.” Silent tears streamed down her face, and instead of wiping them off her warm cheeks, he turned to his side and opened his arms, drawing her to him, whether she liked it or not. “I’ve never told anyone about that before.” A sob followed, and she hid her face in the sweep of his shoulder.

“Opening up doesn’t make you weaker, love. It makes you stronger.” His whisper sliced the night. “He was sick, Kika. And there’s no guarantee he would have had a stellar performance at rehab. He could have relapsed,” he said, in a quiet voice. His weekly AA meetings had taught him guilt wasn’t an emotion only the addicts experienced. Hell, hadn’t his own father’s over protecting ways showed him as well?

“At least he would have had that chance. I denied him that chance.”

“You believed him. Addicts can be very manipulative.”

A couple of sobs followed; their bare skin touched yet no sexual tension raced through his system. This wasn’t about sex, and he’d known that for longer than he’d admitted to himself. He was falling for her, and whether he’d get her in the end or crash face planted on the ground, the decision was no longer his.

Chapter Eleven

Restless, she swung one leg over the other and scooted out of bed. She picked up his shirt off the floor and put it on. “Are you talking from experience?”

“Yes, both for me and my mum.”

She looked at the panoramic view of the Strip, and by instinct she shut the drapes, the intrusive idea of the world witnessing their conversation more than a bother, a threat. “Your mother.”

He let out a long sigh, and scooted to the edge of the bed. Instead of rising up to meet her, he simply sat there, his gaze fixed nowhere in particular. “My father never wanted to see the signs. Always made jokes about how my mother liked her gin better than she did him. In a way he always hoped the problem would fix itself. That if he didn’t address it, it would magically disappear.”

She folded her arms and resisted the brewing temptation to blanket him in her embrace. “It didn’t?”

“No. I was in my teens, and she drank in the afternoon. She always pulled a strong front, and would go to ladies’ luncheons and all. Then it spiraled out of control. One day, after she had a fight with my father, for no reason I recall, she got into the car and drove.”

“Drunk?” she whispered.

He nodded. “She stormed out, and he didn’t follow her.”

“What happened?” A shiver zapped down her spine.

He surged to his feet, his fingers raking over his hair. “She lost control of her car and killed a couple driving on the highway. Was sentenced to prison. Left not long ago.”

A knot, dryer than the sand in a Moroccan desert, expanded in her throat. “I’m sorry,” she pushed out, and when the lodge of pain, his pain, rolled down her throat, warmth spreading through her, conquering her every cell.

He picked up his pants and put them on with one swift movement, avoiding looking at her. “I’ve always blamed that habit. The drinking. Strange enough, after my twenties I started to drink frequently. My counselor said it was my subconscious need to go through what she went through and bond with her even by distance.”

“Have you…talked to her about this?” She walked a couple of steps toward him, hiding her fidgety fingers under her folded elbows.

At last, he turned his attention to her, meeting and holding her gaze. A pulse ticked in his neck. He might have shared this story in his AA meetings or with his counselor, but obviously this was no walk in the park for him. “She wanted nothing to do with me the first few years. But I visited her after rehab, and we talked. And now, it’s good. She’s trying to readjust to her freedom.”

Sour acid brewed in her throat and zapped down to the pit of her stomach. She licked the bitterness off her dry lower lip. “You’re so good, Ryan. At forgiving.” She still hadn’t forgiven herself for abandoning her sister immediately after Freddy’s death…and for never trying hard to restore their friendship and trust. Never…until now.

He snickered, but the contours of his face didn’t relax, his spine still locked into place. “Don’t paint me as this monk.”

“How was it seeing Lynn again?”

“Not bad at all. I’m happy for her. For a long time I thought my best days were past me. And she was part of some of them.”

“They can’t be past you, Ryan.” A conviction that made her heart pound ignited. She wasn’t sure of many things, including how she’d get out of this mess with her heart and soul unscathed. Ryan deserved better. That much she knew.

He stalked toward her. “How do you know?” He lifted his chin, his eyes challenging her.

“It’s a guess,” she lied and produced whatever neutral smile she got her nervous lips to pull off. The warmth from his admission about letting go of Lynn turned into an expanding heat. A heat that wasn’t going anywhere until it choked her. Just for a moment, she wished she could be part of his better days.

He ran his finger down her nose. “Are you good at guessing?”

She chuckled. “I suck at it.”

“Maybe you should just stick around. To see it that we both have better days. We can make it our mission.” A wink.

He took her hands in his, and lifted them to his lips. When he kissed her knuckles, she almost melted into a shameless puddle of affection. His gaze didn’t waver and searched for hers. Oh, how she would love to get lost into those baby blues. Carefully, she let go of his fingers and squared her shoulders.

“Ryan… I want you to talk to my sister. Maybe she can help us with proving Blake is involved.”

“Great idea. Why did you change your mind?”

“Because I kinda trust you.”

“Kinda?” He pulled her to him. “You sure? What if you have to pay a price for it?”

“Like you said…too bloody late.” She imitated his accent, hoping the playfulness would take some of the edge off of her. Which was worse—trusting him or admitting to it out loud?

***

“I don’t get it. Why do you expect me to tell him all I know?” Luna asked.

The early morning sunshine trespassed the closed blinds, and spilled over the otherwise gloomy living room. The setup, two love seats that passed for sofas along with the colorful rug, never looked tinier. Ryan sat upright on the skinny-legged black chair, his stretched posture making it clear he was paying attention to every syllable exchanged between them. Luna stood up and leaned against the kitchen threshold.

“I’ve already told you why.” Kika repeated what she’d said a minute earlier, after she’d introduced Ryan to her sister. Their night together had showed her he was worthy of her trust, at least on that subject. And if he needed more information about the real prostitution ring, her sister had to help him. Having him in their corner was way better than not. He could be the perfect bridge between them and the authorities. He was their ticket to freedom, even though the thought carried a dose of irony.

“No. You explained how he came about. How can we trust him?”

Kika’s hands fell in her lap. “That’s our only option.”

“Look.” Ryan leaned forward. “You’re small fish. If you help me, I promise I’ll keep you both safe.”

Luna folded her arms, lifting her chin. How long had it been since Kika saw her sister oppose an idea with so much passion? An acidy liquid spilled into Kika’s stomach.
You know when
. This time, she’d chosen to trust Ryan. The stubborn, pounding throb in her temple hoped to God she was right.

Rubbing the back of her neck, Luna let out a long sigh. Kika hoped she hadn’t made the wrong decision this time. “What do you want to know?” her sister asked.

“How does the operation work, for starters? Omar is your pimp, isn’t he?” he asked so casually they would be talking about the weather.

“Yes.”

Ryan leaned back in his chair. “How does he select the clients?”

Luna paced around a bit, as if she was second-guessing her decision to spill the beans. She ran her fingers on her wavy black hair, then stopped fidgeting and faced Kika, then Ryan. “There’s a list of men. Most of them are business travelers. I don’t have access to it. I don’t contact clients on my own. Omar assigns them to us.”

“I’ve seen him talk to a couple of girls at the casino then they disappear.”

Luna shifted her weight from one leg to the other. “They go to the kitchen and take the service elevator the room-service attendants takes to deliver. That’s how they have access to the clients without raising suspicions.”

“Would the security guy have the tapes, then? Of them going up to the rooms?”

Luna glanced at the floor before meeting his gaze. “No. The security guy gets a cut.”

Ryan shook his head. “Who else knows about this scheme?”

“I don’t know. People suspect it of course.”

He brushed his forehead with the palm of his hand. “My friend Katie heard from the wife of a hotel manager at a different property about the rumor.”

“Makes sense. Our hotel isn’t the only one. At least a couple of others on the Strip are in it too. Omar answers to someone.”

Ryan surged to his feet, eyes narrowed. “If he does, I find it hard he’ll let you girls off the hook like that.”

“But we’ll pay him.” Luna fiddled with her necklace.

“If this is operation goes over multiple hotels, fifty-thousand dollars won’t make a dent to the big guy. Whoever is the head of everything.” Ryan curled and uncurled his hands, prowling the room as he spoke. “Versus letting someone go, someone with a sister who knows and disapproves of the operation.”

“Omar promised…” Kika trailed off, unable to continue her silly attempt at turning things around.

“Is there a chance maybe he’ll pocket the cash for himself? I doubt he’ll let the two of you go without repercussions.”

Luna’s eyes widened. “What repercussions could there be?”

“We won’t find out. I’ll bring this to Charlotte today and get in touch with the police.” He started to text something, and her heart tightened. The concern in his eyes made her stomach flutter.
He’s doing this for me.

“If you do that, you’ll ruin her wedding day, without knowing for sure if her husband actually is responsible,” Kika said.

“I can’t let anything happen to you.” He cut the distance between them, and squeezed Kika’s shoulder.

Kika withdrew from his touch, unable to think straight.

Luna stepped forward. “What difference will a day make in this case? If he wants his cash, he will have to wait for it anyway. Regardless of what he thinks he can do to us, he wants his money. Maybe if we buy time, we can figure out if your brother-in-law- to be is really involved.”

She opened her mouth to speak, the tight knot in her throat pulsating. Turning to her sister, the look of confusion and surprise in Luna’s face was the warning she needed. A warning to take what she could get. But she didn’t want whatever she could get. Was it to wrong to make things right for everyone? “How?”

“They marry tomorrow. Is there some kind of rehearsal dinner later tonight?” Luna asked.

Ryan rubbed the back of his neck, shutting his eyes for a moment. “Yes. Charlotte will go to this all-day spa with her bridesmaids, then we’ll all meet at the chapel for rehearsal, then dinner.”

Luna smiled a little. “Perfect. He needs a bait. I will go up to his room before the rehearsal dinner, when your sister is away. As a hooker.”

Kika plopped down the chair. “That is crazy. Besides, what if he recognizes you from the party last night? I mean me. And thinks that was you,” she said, although she couldn’t recall being introduced to Blake during dinner.

Luna shot up a hand. Dang it. She hated when her sister insisted on doing something. Most times, she succeeded. “He won’t. I have a short red wig. Trust me.”

“What are you trying to achieve?” Ryan asked.

“I will see how he reacts to me. If he acts like it’s all new to him, he may not be the head of the operation. If he gets mad at me for going up to his room or says something about me needing to be careful, we’ll know. Either way, I will get a feel for what kind of player he is. If one, at all.”

“This way we may have something more concrete to take to the police,” Ryan chimed in.

“Yep,” Luna said. “We’ll find out.”

Kika sagged into the chair, too tired to be combative. It was not even three in the morning, and a part of her already dreaded the day ahead.

***

Kika popped her knuckles. Hell, when had it been the last time since she had done it? Couldn’t even remember. She had to swallow a couple times to push past the lump in her throat. Ryan watched her from the other side of the room. She had decided to come with him to his hotel, and Luna had agreed. The other nights, she had dutifully gone home to her sister. For the remainder of the night, she would be with him.

God, he was gorgeous. Less than a day before all would be figured out, and Ryan vanished from her life for good. She clamped her lips, and walked over to him. Their last time had to be a night to remember. In a weird way, having met him opened up the possibility for a new kind of relationship between she and Luna. All would be different from now on. Hers wasn’t just a quick trip to get something over with.