Selling Out (18 page)

“How do you know guys won’t go too far? How can you trust
them?”

Two pairs of wide eyes blinked at me. I laughed softly.
“You’re asking me? I wouldn’t know. That’s why I collect payment before, not
after.”

Allie kicked me under the table.

“Ow.” I turned to Claire. “I take more abuse from this one.”

Allie sobered. “Yeah. That’s probably true.”

“It was a joke.”

“I know.” She went to stand at the window, looking out over
the rolling hills of Philip’s backyard.

I followed. “Hey, don’t be like that.”

“I’m not being like anything, except maybe guilty as hell.”

She had always blamed herself for my prostitution, as if she
were responsible for planting the tree just because she had eaten its fruit.
She wasn’t. The roots of my shame ran too deep for that. “Nothing that happened
to me was your fault. We’ve been over this.”

“No, you said it wasn’t my fault. I disagreed.”

“We’ll agree to disagree. Are we going to argue or have
girls’ night?”

“Is that not what we do on girls’ nights? I need a handbook
or something.”

“I was thinking girlier. Like, way girlier.”

Allie stared at me blankly. “If you mean what I think you
mean, you should know by now, I really don’t swing that way. Plus, I don’t
think Colin would approve.”

I rolled my eyes, then pulled out the two cheap boxes of dye
I’d had Adrian pick up at the drugstore. “I want to color my hair.”

“No,” Ella exclaimed. “I love your hair. It’s so pretty.”

Allie’s eyes narrowed a bit. Finally she nodded. “Okay. A
new look, a new life.”

It did have a nice ring to it. The truth was, my hair was
too distinctive. Too blonde, too bright. I’d stand right out in the club. Dull,
slightly damaged brown ought to do the trick. And hey, if I was really lucky,
we’d find a way out of this mess.

I smiled. “A new life.”

The chemicals burned my eyes, but the laughter and camaraderie
were well worth it. I soaked it up, storing it away for some future time
drearier than this. As Allie was leaving, for maybe the first time I leaned in
for a hug. I felt her little jolt of surprise before she returned it. It felt
like good-bye.

A cab dropped me off a few blocks from the club. Even from
here, the bass could be heard like rolling thunder, vibrating the gravel on the
sidewalk. Though this had ceased to be a good part of town a decade ago, most
of the shops were still operating. A pharmacy, cash loans—but right now they
were dark, closed for the night, encased in metal gates.

Only the pawnshop was open at this hour, because partygoers
might pick up some ecstasy on the way. I slipped inside, withholding my wince
as a loud doorbell rang out. The sickly sweet smell of pot assailed me. Clearly
someone here was a fan of Mardi Gras; brightly colored plastic beads decorated
the cluttered shelves like garlands.

Raine poked his head out. “Can I help you?”

I looked down, suddenly nervous. I had seen the man many
times. How had I thought I could disguise myself like this? He would see right
through me and expose this entire endeavor for a farce. But I’d met him in
smoke-filled rooms, standing behind powerful men. I had been an accessory just
like the watches in the glass cases.

“I’m looking to pawn something.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what the sign on the door says. Don’t
think just ’cause it’s late that you’re gonna get the jump on me. You got
something to sell, show me the goods.”

I pulled out the velvet bag that contained the last of my
inheritance. The small stones rolled onto the glass countertop, reflecting the
dim light with disproportionate brilliance. Only the gemstones were here; the
diamonds had been left for Ella with a small note of farewell. They had been
earned with my skin and blood. Hopefully she would find a better use for them.

“Whoa, girl.” He rushed over to rally them onto a ratty
velvet tray. “Be careful with those. This shit doesn’t grow on trees.”

He seemed genuinely offended by my callous treatment. It
made me glad someone would finally appreciate them. A sort of wistfulness
filled his eyes as he nudged them over, like a small boy who’s caught a
caterpillar in his palm.

“These are beautiful. But I don’t know if I have the cash on
hand for something like this.”

“Make me an offer.”

He did, and it was surprisingly good. He really wanted them.
“Done.”

Squinting at me, he said, “Look, how hot are we talking
here? I don’t need no fucking search warrants, if you know what I mean.”

“They aren’t stolen.” Well, not really. I hadn’t exactly had
permission from my father to take them, but it had been years, and he’d never
tried to get them back from me. They definitely weren’t hot in the way Raine
meant, stolen from a robbery or something.

“You would say that. For all I know, you have cops on your
tail, about to bust me as an accomplice.”

He was practically panting over them. No way he’d let me
walk. I started to gather them back up. “Okay, I’ll take them somewhere else
tomorrow. I just really needed the money tonight, that’s all, and—”

“Okay, wait. Give them to me. This one’s off-the-books,
though. No fucking pawn slip for this, you hear? When you walk out that door, I
never want to see your pretty face again.”

My breath caught as I ducked my head. I didn’t want him
examining my looks at all. “Just hurry up, okay? I have a party to go to.”

He snorted. “I have a party in the back room. Come see.”

I shook my head. “I’m meeting someone.”

“I’ll bet you are.” He squinted. “Do I know you from
somewhere? You look familiar.”

I shrugged as my heart beat wildly. “I come and go.
Chicago’s a big city.”

“Yeah. A big windy fucking city.” He finally turned away and
counted out a slim pack of bills. “You remember what I said, now. I don’t want
to see you back here. If anyone comes around asking, you were never here.”

“Perfect.”

I tucked the money into my jacket pocket, wishing I could
stash it somewhere safe. But at least I had the money now. If I needed to run,
I could. Strange thoughts. I wouldn’t run. I had nowhere to go. And yet the
premonition nagged at me. I was free, unencumbered. I had a gun, I had
money—this was power. I didn’t feel powerful, though. I felt melancholy,
already missing a life I had tried so hard to escape.

A block away from the store, a slight scuff of a shoe on
pavement caught my attention. I slowed and heard the quiet
clop-clop
of footsteps following. Ducking into an alley, I waited
for the person to pass me. Nothing came. No club visitors sauntered by, no more
sounds at all. I was getting paranoid. I stepped out to head toward the club
again. A hand reached out and sealed over my mouth before I could utter a
squeak. Then I was pulled back into the alley. Farther, farther into the inky
black, until all I could see were the stars above me.

“Be still.” Luke’s whisper was harsh in my ear.

“Jesus,” I gasped when he took his hand off my mouth, my
heart pounding. I blinked up at the stars, stiff against him, filled with relief
I couldn’t examine right now. “Did you do that just to scare the shit out of
me?”

His hands softened; his hold turned from a cage to an
embrace. “Probably for the same reason you waltzed into headquarters and lifted
my ID.”

“Okay,” I grumbled. “You had your revenge. Let me go.”

I pushed against him, halfheartedly, turning to face him,
and became aware of the hardness of his body, the tautness everywhere, and the
firm length of him against my stomach. I didn’t want to breathe his bitter-soap
scent or hear the catch in his voice whenever he spoke near me—but God, I
needed it. Like stepping out of my heels, peeling off the tight garments after
an evening of work; like collapsing on the couch, finally safe; like standing
beneath the hot beat of the shower, finally clean—meeting Luke was like coming
home.

He cupped the back of my neck, and I let my head fall back.
With slow, aching deliberation, waiting for me to deny him, forcing me to
choose, he lowered his head. I strained for him. Not just my breath—my whole
body panted for him.

The touch of his lips on my neck was so light I barely felt
them. Like the flicker of moonlight on water, the moment my nerves centered on
his kiss, he was gone, skimming over the surface, alighting on a new slip of my
skin. And myself, the dark, fathomless depths—liquid, effervescent,
effortlessly languorous. Pleasure rippled over me, while something long hidden
stirred beneath the surface.

“What are you doing?” My voice trembled.

He didn’t pause in his exploration. “If this little game of
yours is going to work, we have to look like lovers.”

A game, then. “I’m great at faking it,” I said blandly.

His laugh was soft—seductive. Did he know how he sounded?
Did he do that on purpose? “I’m sure you are. Though I’ll know. Don’t doubt that.”

I attempted to snort my derision at his statement, but it
came out breathy. “Spare me the promise of your magic dick.”

“I didn’t say I’d make you come. I said I’d know if you
didn’t. I’m sure you can moan very nicely, but the truth is in the eyes. I bet
you close them when you’re pretending.”

“By that point, the guy is usually too far gone to notice,”
I admitted.

“I wouldn’t go so easily.”

No, he wouldn’t. Even though his thumb stroked the column of
my neck and his mouth grazed the curve of my ear, this wasn’t surrender. If I
were to pull up my skirts right here, right now, he wouldn’t take me.

“Then don’t tease,” I said crossly. “There’s a word for
people who do that.”

His laugh turned husky. “I’m not the one holding back. But
that will change. Very soon.”

Before I could process that unnerving declaration, he
stiffened and stepped back, letting the stale stink of the street flood between
us. In his raised hand, I recognized the ominous shape of a gun. My heart beat
an erratic tattoo of fear and disbelief—and relief. This would be the end.

His voice turned cold as he said, “What is this?”

Mine. The gun was mine, not his. He wasn’t going to use it
on me. Of course not. I wasn’t going to be shot again—what were the odds? I
blinked away the sense of inevitability that had claimed me for a few surreal
moments.

“A girl’s got to protect herself. Surely you didn’t expect
me to meet you unarmed, now that I’m without that lovely security of
headquarters.”

Even in the dark, I could see his scowl. Or maybe just feel
it wafting in the air, slipping along the invisible cord that connected us.

“Ah, so we are back to that. I wonder what I would have to
do to make you trust me.”

“Don’t sell me out to your boss. That’s a start.”

“Because of what I did, what you did, I’m walking around
with his boot shoved up my ass. Try again.”

Stop using me. Want
me. Fight for me
. “I want you to go inside that club and pretend to be my
pimp. Help me get proof that the girl was kidnapped. Even if she played a part
in their deaths, which she didn’t, it would have been within her rights.
Self-defense.”

“And you? If you’re serious about clearing her legally,
that’s going to mean taking this to my boss. It means working with the DA. It
means testifying.”

Every cell in my body revolted at that idea. “That’s what
she deserves. She should have her life back, a clear name. She deserves a
regular life.”

“It means going public with your identity, with what you
did. Everyone in Chicago will know.” His tone was grim.

“Afraid of what people would think of me?” I asked, feigning
disinterest, though the idea of him ashamed of me made my insides tighten.

“I’m afraid of what your father will do if it comes out,” he
said quietly. “I’m fucking terrified of what you’ll do if he lashes out at
you.”

It shouldn’t have surprised me that he knew. He had seen
every crack and flaw in me, so why not this? Even stranger that Luke should
worry about such an eventuality. Surely it would happen one day. So strong was
my certainty that it had never occurred to me to fear it. Luke would be
reunited with his long-lost prostitute, and I would be returned to the waiting
hands of my father, both of us where we belonged. No reason to worry over it,
no reason to fret.

“I’ll be fine,” I said gently, feeling unaccountably
protective. Did he stay up nights worrying about each of his informants, about
each prostitute he tried to help? Did it break his heart to think of his lost
love in my place? Even the thought of her couldn’t dampen my warmth toward him.
A man in love was a beautiful thing, even if he wasn’t in love with me.

“If we go in there, then it’s real. I’m really your pimp.
You do whatever I say.”

I smiled. “Playing out a fantasy? I like that.”

“I’m not kidding. Going in there half-cocked is asking for
trouble.” He put up his hand. “Don’t say anything.”

“Wasn’t going to. Too easy.”

“I’m just worried that you—” He turned away, the troubled
sound of his voice ringing through the chilly night air.

“That I can’t cut it? Oh, come on.” And here I’d been
worried about him being able to handle himself in disguise. “I’ve done worse
than this. I’ve lived this.”

“No, you haven’t. Not like this, in the slums. Half the
time, you look like you belong in a country club. You couch everything you say
with sexual innuendo, putting everyone else at a disadvantage. You turn
prostitution into a little rich girl’s game so you don’t have to face the
reality. I’m not blaming you for any of it. But that’s not what we’re going to
do in there.”

“Right, because you’re a goddamned expert on life in the
slums.”

“Never mind. If we’re going to do this, let’s go.” He
sounded grim but resolved. “We go in, we get out. We keep a low profile. What’s
my name tonight? I assume you had a fake ID made.”