Soon she would have the rest of her life ahead of her. Would she stay in Atlanta? Would she move away to another state, another city where no one knew her name? She could even treat herself and take a mini vacation, mini because that would be all that her meager savings would allow. After she helped pay her mother’s expenses for the month, she had little cash left.
Pulling the blanket off the back of the couch, she covered her shoulders and snuggled deeper into the cushion. She should go to bed, but many nights she stayed on the sofa, watching TV until sleep finally overcame her.
Alone, in bed, always conjured images of the passionate nights she’d spent with Declan. Words couldn’t describe how he’d made her feel. How he’d taken her to a new level of emotion each time he touched her, kissed her, made love to her. He was the one and only man she’d ever loved. Her first and only lover. He’d branded her soul with his stamp and she didn’t think it was possible to ever allow another man to get anywhere close to filling his spot.
Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them away. She swore she’d never cry again over a man who didn’t deserve her. For a while, she’d allowed herself to be caught up in what he was doing, or rather, who he was doing. The pictures on the local tabloid newspapers always told a story of him partying with one young model after another. Ash doubted he spent any of his nights thinking of her, or that they were still married—a little hiccup she’d have to take care of when she had the extra money.
CHAPTER THREE
Knock! Knock!
Ash rolled and felt her body slip off the cushion, then she fell. Thankfully, the area rug softened her impact. She lifted herself up on her elbow and blinked. The sunlight streaming in through the windows illuminated the room. What time was it? And what had woken her?
Pushing herself to a sitting position, she swiped a hand through her tangled hair just as another knock came at the door, this time louder and more persistent. Ash read the clock. “6:27.” Who would be visiting this time of the morning?
Climbing off the floor, she squinted at the ache in her hip and wobbled her way to the door, peering through the eyeglass. Ash hurried and pulled it open. “Abby? What the hell are you doing here?” Her sister stood in the hallway, her long hair piled into a messy bun and she wore large sunglasses that hid half of her face. Her yoga pants and bulky sweatshirt looked like she’d just climbed from bed or worked out, but Ash had a feeling that Abby hadn’t come from the gym. Most mornings her sister didn’t make it out of bed until after noon.
“Abby? What are you doing here?” she asked again.
Her sister slipped into the apartment, laying her change purse and keys on the counter. “Do you have coffee?”
“I was still asleep,” she mumbled.
Abby sighed. “You? I thought you were an early riser?” She stepped into the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator door. “You need groceries,” she slurred in irritation.
“I don’t need groceries. I’m never home. I’ll make coffee.” She could use a large cup herself. “You haven’t even been asleep, have you?” That would explain the early visit.
Abby shrugged, then took a seat at the small, round table. Ash glanced at her sister while filling the filter with granules and the canister with water. She stabbed start on the coffee maker, then asked, “So why are you here? I haven’t seen you in weeks and you show up out of the blue?” She shouldn’t be angry, but it bothered her that her sister, her best friend and confidant, would disappear for days.
“I need a favor.”
Ash cringed. Of course she does. How could she have believed that Abby would come to visit and have a cup of coffee just to hang out like old times. She fiddled with her keys nervously.
“A favor?” Ash asked.
Abby had a restless energy about her. “You can’t say no.”
“I can if I need to.” Looking at her sister across the space of the kitchen, Ash watched Abby closely. The coffee maker sputtered and the smell filled the air. Needing a good dose of caffeine in her system before she heard what her sister was about to say, Ash took down two cups from the cabinet and poured the coffee. She added sweet cream, handing one over to Abby who still wore her glasses, and still played with the keys. “Okay, what is it?” Ash took a seat.
“You’re going to say no.”
“Maybe, maybe not, but you won’t know until you ask. If it’s money, I don’t have much—”
“No, I don’t want to borrow anything.” There was a slight tremble to her voice.
“I don’t understand. Have you and Phillipe broken up?”
“What makes you say that?” she snapped.
Ash shrugged. “Just wondering. I haven’t seen you without him hovering over your shoulder the last ten times I’ve seen you.”
“Let’s not get into this.”
“I’d certainly not want to say anything negative about him,” Ash sniffed.
“This was a mistake.” Abby grabbed her keys and knocked the table as she stood up. Coffee spilled from both cups.
Ash caught her by the wrist. “You coming here is never a mistake. I’m sorry.”
“Okay.” Abby nodded and sat back in the chair, more tendrils of hair fell to her cheeks.
“Why don’t you take the glasses off? Are you too cool now?” Ash chuckled.
“I—I have a hangover.”
“Bad excuse.” Ash reached over, grabbed the glasses and tugged them off her sister’s face. “There, I can see—” The oxygen dissipated as Ash grappled with the image before her. A large, purplish-blue bruise covered her sister’s right eye. “What the hell. How did you get that?”
“Don’t overreact, Ash.”
“Don’t overreact? You show up here with a gargantuan, nasty bruise and you tell me not to overreact? Start explaining.” She folded her arms over her waist and tapped her foot against the floor in agitation.
Abby bit her bottom lip. “I’m going to explain, but you must first promise not to flip out.”
Ash narrowed her gaze. “What happened? Phillipe hit you, didn’t he?”
“It was an accident.”
“Seriously? You’re going to try and pull that excuse over on me?” Ash could barely get the words out through her trembling lips. Her body hurt all the way down to her toes.
“He’s been under a lot of stress lately. His career is in the shits and he’s trying real hard to get back on his feet. We argued about money, things got out of hand and he hit me without thinking.”
“Oh, so let’s forgive him because he didn’t rationally think things through before hitting you.”
Abby rubbed her jaw. “If you do this, I’ll leave. I need you to hear me out.”
And Ash knew she meant every word. For the last six months, her sister had repeatedly chosen Phillipe over Ash, no matter what the circumstances. She’d been accused of being jealous to not wanting her sister to find love, but the truth was she’d known something like this would happen, eventually. Phillipe had started being controlling on day one. “Stay and I’ll listen, but whatever you do, don’t ask me to understand that he hit you.”
Abby nodded, sipped her coffee, then cleared her throat. “He apologized for most of the night, swore it wouldn’t happen again.”
“And you believe him?”
“I do.” She rolled her finger around the rim of the cup. Several fake nails were chipped. “Come on, Ash, don’t give me that look.”
“What look?”
“Like a mother chastising me for staying out too late.”
“Phillipe hit you, Abby. How many times has this happened in the past?”
Abby leaned against the back of the stool. “Only twice.”
Ash counted to ten, backward and forward. It didn’t ease the tension in her body, but she could not lose her temper. “Don’t you remember Mom’s boyfriend? The one who couldn’t stop hitting her because of one reason or another? He was stressed too.”
“This isn’t like that, Ash.”
“Oh, so it wa
s wrong that Mom was hit, but right that Phillipe hits you?” Ash narrowed her gaze.
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“I don’t get it, Sis. What does he have that you can’t live without?”
Abby sighed. “We make each other happy. He makes me laugh and he watches my back.”
“I watch your back. I always have, even if I’ve failed at times.”
“I’m not yours to keep safe, Ash.”
“There are places where you can go. People who can help. We can call the police. He’d be arrested and it might make him understand that he can’t get by with this.”
“Save your counseling for the interested, Sis. I’m not buying it.”
In that second, Ash knew no matter what she said she couldn’t change her sister’s mind. “I’m sensing that you haven’t come here to ask me to tie him up and cut off his jewels like we swore we would do if a man ever laid a hand on one of us…so then what is the favor?”
“I can’t work this week and I have appointments. Won’t happen, not with this shit on my face.” She touched her cheek and squinted.
Ash knew what she meant by ‘appointments’. “Then cancel, Abby. It’s going to take a few weeks for that bruise to heal.” Ash took a long gulp of her coffee, not caring that it burnt all the way to the pit of her stomach.
“That’s just it. I can’t cancel. Rox warned me if I cancel one more time she’d have no choice but to replace me.”
Ash blew out a long breath. “Then maybe it’s time to move on. You said the escort service work was only temporary until you found something better. It’s been almost two years now.”
Abby chuckled. “It’s easy to get used to the money.”
“What happened to budgeting, unless…”
Abby’s gaze widened. “Unless what?”
“Unless you’re supporting a bad habit.” Only one other time had she had this conversation with her sister.
“We’ve been through this before. I told you no.”
“But has anything changed?” Ash set her cup down and coffee sloshed out onto her fingers.
“I’d tell you, Sis. You know I would. This isn’t about drugs.”
“Then make changes, Abby.”
“You don’t understand.” Abby dropped her forehead into her palm. “You just don’t get it.”
“Then explain what I’m not getting. I want to understand. I’ve tried to understand, but you never give me a solid answer.”
“Don’t come down hard on me. Why is it that when a man and woman meet for dinner and have sex, it’s called a date, but when I do the same thing, and there’s money left in an envelope next to the bed, I’m looked down upon.”
“Abby, we’ve been through this, long ago when you started. I don’t have to agree with your decisions, but I love you and I’m worried about you. Please tell me what’s going on.”
“We owe people some money,” she blurted.
“You owe who money?” Ash gripped the edge of the table.
“Phillipe and I are into some trouble with a few of his friends.
“If they’re ‘friends’, then you shouldn’t be into trouble. They’ll understand.”
“Not these kind of friends, Ash. We got in over our heads in gambling. At first, we did pretty good, and then we lost big. We couldn’t seem to get the money back. Our intentions were good, but we just betted on the wrong number. That’s all.”
Ash attempted to wrap her fuzzy brain around the fuzzier details. “Pay them back.”
Abby shook her head in jerky movements that sent more tendrils of hair out of her bun. “That’s why I need this job. The money I make will help, but no man will want to date me when I have a black eye.”
“How much do you owe these people?” Ash heard the words, but she didn’t realize she’d said them. Her mind automatically started calculating her savings, if she had anything to sell to make enough…
“Thirty thousand.”
“Oh shit, Abby. I don’t make that much in a year.”
Her sister’s eyes filled with moisture. “You’re right. This is horrible. But if we don’t come up with the money soon, Phillipe will be their target. They’re seedy people. They mean business.”
Ash stood up, paced the small space, then stopped and looked at Abby. “You can go somewhere, Abby. A safe place. If they’re not after you—”
Abby jumped up, knocking the chair against the wall. “I’m in this too, Ash! Don’t you see? If they don’t get their money from Phillipe, they’ll come after me.” The tears fell to her cheeks and she swiped them away. “These people aren’t the kind you fuck over and get by with it. They’ll hunt me until they find me.”
Fear looped through Ash. She couldn’t believe what her sister was telling her, and yet it explained why Abby had been disconnected, aloof, over the last six months. “I can scour up some cash, but I can’t come up with that much.” She took Abby’s hand. “We’ll go to the police. They can protect you.”
“No, they won’t. There’s only one way that you can help.” Abby’s eyes pleaded.
“I don’t understand.”
“You have a rich husband, Ash.”
Taking a step back, Ash shook her head frantically. “No…”
“Yes, Ash. It’s the only way. You’re still married to him. He owes you.”
Suddenly her body became over-sensitive and aware. The cold floor under her bare feet. The dripping faucet. The loud motor on the refrigerator. And her thoughts racing through her mind like a train. “I couldn’t do this. He doesn’t owe me anything. What we had is over. I can’t just show up on his doorstep and ask for thirty thousand dollars.”
Abby took Ash’s shoulders, grasping them under her fingers, giving her a slight shake. “You can do this. I know you can. He loved you, was crazy over you. If you told him you’re in trouble, he’d do anything to help you. I know he would.”
Desperation shown in Abby’s blue gaze. Ash was reminded of when they were kids and Abby had broken their mother’s vase. She’d pleaded with Ash to take the blame because Abby feared what their mother would do. Ash had lied and said she had thrown a ball and hit the vase, shattering it all over the floor. She had been sent to bed without dinner. Abby refused to eat and went to bed without dinner too. Ash had pondered on that moment many times, knowing how much easier it would have been just to have told their mother the truth. But things were never easy with Abby. All through the years of childhood, the many times Ash had tried taking the heat for Abby, their mother had eventually caught on.
“I can’t do this.”
Abby dropped her hands, her gaze narrowed and her expression turned sour. “Oh I see. You’re more than willing to give advice, but when it comes to truly helping, you want nothing to do with it. Your hands are tied.”
“That’s not it and you know it. I won’t extort my husband out of cash.”
“You were always the good child—Mom’s favorite. You have no idea what it’s like to be the unloved child.”
Ash wrapped her brain around her sister’s words. “That’s not true. She loves you, she loves us both.”
Abby chuckled, but it was cold. “I’ll go to Mom. Maybe she can help.” She grabbed up her keys and purse.
“Stop, Abby. You can’t go to mom and tell her what’s going on. You’ll kill her. And you know she doesn’t have the money either.”
More tears built in Abby’s eyes. “What choice do I have? Should I hand myself over to these killers and allow them to torture me to death? Would you care?” She started sobbing, tears rolling down her cheeks, her shoulders bouncing in emotion.
Ash stepped forward, wrapping an arm around her sister’s shoulders. “I’ll go to Declan, Abby. I’ll do this for you and give you the money if he’ll give it to me, but on one condition.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Declan hung up the phone and sat back in his chair, the springs squeaking under the pressure. Shock was a mild description of his feeling. One second he was thinking abou
t Ash, and then the next she was on the phone. When his secretary had first told him that Ash was waiting on the line, he’d suspected someone was playing a cruel joke on him, but sure enough, it was the truth.
She had asked to see him, but she didn’t say why.
She wanted a divorce. That had to be the reason.
He was in a shit hole of a situation. He needed to find a pretend wife ASAP while separated from his real one who was coming to ask for a divorce. He blew out a long breath and leaned his elbows on his desk.
He pictured his wife, wondering if she’d changed any in the last five years, curious if she could still turn him inside out with one look from those intense, violet eyes. The first time he’d met her, he’d had a goal. He wanted to make her want him. And then the tables had quickly turned and he’d wanted her more than he’d wanted his next breath. Although he’d had a deep-rooted need to slam inside of her, he’d also wanted to, strangely, hold her.
A woman like her wouldn’t fall for any man’s fanciful charm, which he found out when she’d turned him down time and again. When he’d finally been able to talk her into going to dinner with him, they’d spent the entire evening talking about everything under the sky, but nothing in particular. When the sun came up, he knew of her dreams to become a social worker, her love for family, the pain of losing her father early in life, and he, well, didn’t say more than five sentences because he only wanted to hear her talk—and be hypnotized in her radiance. He’d even told her by date three that he was loaded, or rather his family was, and she didn’t blink an eye. No surprise.
His Weekend Wife (The KNIGHT Brothers Book 2) Page 5