by Danah Logan
At first, I think it's moaning. Maybe my boss is having an after-party at the club. Then, the words become clearer. "No. Please don't. No, no, no. P-pleeease." Whoever is begging is in tears and nearly hysterical. Between the pleas, the sobbing gets louder the farther I creep down the corridor. I've almost reached the small archway separating the stage room from the back. Dizziness is taking over my body, and I'm supporting myself with my hand pressed against the wall.
"Oh God, please stop," the female voice wails, followed by a slap and a scream.
What the fuck is going on here? It's too late to turn around. I remain hidden in the shadows of the hallway but have a full view of the stage.
Jesus Christ.
The back of my hand flies to my mouth, and I gag as I take in the scene in front of me. A girl, fully naked, is bent over the edge of the stage, her chest pressed on the polished wooden floor, while her ass is bared. One of E's guards is standing on the stage with his boot on her back, and my boss is pounding into her from behind. There is absolutely nothing consensual about this.
I'm breathing so fast that black spots appear in my vision. There is no way I can leave this girl to their mercy. When she lifts her head slightly, I can see through the strands plastered on her face that she's the dancer who was supposed to start next week. Is he doing this to all the new girls? He's never touched me. I need to do something. Oh God, I can't take on both of them, though. Or can I? I have to.
They are violating this poor girl, who's probably not much older than me. I bend down and pull my Du Hoc blade out of my boot. This blade was a gift, and despite everything it represents, I have kept it safe for over a decade. Tonight, it will finally come in use.
I creep one inch closer at a time, staying to the edge of the room that is still mostly shrouded in shadow thanks to the lingering smoke. I need to get rid of E's guard first, but there is no way I can get to him undetected. Plus, E's favorite gun is laying on the stage—within his reach. E has to go first. I can only pray that, once his paycheck is gone, his guard's loyalty will shift.
I'm so dead.
My jaw hurts from clenching it, but I won't allow myself to breathe through my mouth and potentially end up giving myself away—by screaming or something equally stupid. When I get to the point where I have to step away from the wall to reach my raping pig of a boss, I drop to all fours and move from one seating area to the next, never letting the guy on the stage out of my sight. He almost looks bored and pays E no attention as he assaults the girl in the most vile way. His hand is now fisted in her matted hair, and her head is pulled back. From my angle, I can't see her face, but I don't have to. Her whimpers are perfectly audible over the music, which has changed to a quieter tune.
I'm behind the booth facing the stage, with a direct view of my employer's pale, naked ass as he thrusts forward more forcefully every time. If I'd been on my feet, my knees would've given out by now. I keep swallowing over the bile forcing its way up. I haven't eaten in hours, so I'm not concerned about throwing up anything of value—like nourishment.
E begins to grunt, and goose bumps erupt all over my body. He's about to be done, and I have no clue what'll happen next. I need to act now. With my heart beating in my throat, I swallow one more time, clench my knife, and leap over the back of the booth. It all happens so quickly. I use the cushioned seat to propel me forward and reach him in three strides. With a scream, I lift my arm and plunge the curved blade into the side of my boss's neck—
"King! Princess, wake up. KING!"
I sit up with a start and immediately wrap my arms around my stomach. No, no, no. Not again. Someone touches my shoulder, and the scream—the same sound that came out of my mouth when I killed E—erupts from my lungs.
I squeeze my eyes shut and scramble away from whoever is in my bed. Where is Echo?
The door flies open, and the ceiling light illuminates the room. The mattress dips, and hands touch my face.
"I'm here. Take a breath. It was a dream. You're safe." Mags repeats the same words over and over, stroking my cheek while I sit cross-legged on my mattress, rocking back and forth.
"What is going on? What's wrong with her?" another voice filters through to my brain.
"You need to leave," Mags commands to whoever is talking.
"The fuck I am."
Wes. Oh God, Wes is here. Why is he here?
I blink through the tears and turn my head in the direction of his voice. Wes stands in the middle of my small room, wearing only briefs. His hair is tousled, and his hands are clasped on top of his head. He locks eyes with mine, and his concern is my undoing. I cover my mouth with my hands to muffle the sob threatening to burst out.
Mags touches my chin and nudges me to look at her. "Do you want him to leave? I can call Grizz if—"
I shake my head.
Her tone is calm. She's been through this with me too many times to count. One of the many reasons I love this girl.
Wes waited for me when I got home from work, like he said he would. But instead of talking about the past week, we watched a movie in the living room. The last thing I remember is him taking my hand and resting my head on his shoulder. The comfort and feeling of safety let me relax.
I slowly drop my hands back to my lap and draw in a hiccuped breath. "N-no. It's okay."
"You sure?"
"You heard her. Stop being a b—" Wes's angry remark gets interrupted by my other girl pushing past him and jumping on the bed.
"Hey, sweet girl. Where were you?" I nuzzle my nose in her fur as she climbs in my lap. Echo also has seen me like this—many times.
"I had just let her out when you screamed," Mags explains. "I must've left the back door open when I came running."
I look at my best friend. "Thank you."
She strokes my cheek one more time. "Of course. Do you need anything?"
I shake my head, and Mags stands slowly. When she's in front of Wes, she tilts her head up. "Do not push her to give you answers she's not ready to give." Her tone doesn't leave room for negotiation. Wes dips his head once in acknowledgment, then walks around my friend to the bed. Without hesitation, he climbs back under the covers. He sits against the headboard and lifts an arm.
I scoot closer with my dog still in my lap and lean into him. Echo shifts to be tucked between us, and I feel cocooned between Wes's embrace and my furry girl.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Wes asks after a beat of silence.
Do I?
I don't want him to know this side of me, but I owe him an explanation as to what he witnessed.
"In the morning?" I lift my head slightly to glance at the alarm clock on my nightstand. It's almost three, which explains why Mags was letting Echo out. She always does it when she gets home from her shift.
Wes tightens his hold for a second before letting go, and I expect him to push me away and leave. Instead, he starts drawing circles on my upper arm, and I wish right about now that we didn't have a chaperone dog between us.
My eyelids begin to droop, and eventually, I am lulled to sleep by his caress. My last thought is that I never fall back asleep when I've had that dream.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I got zero shut-eye after King's…what the fuck was that? How could I? The last time I saw someone that scared, one of my best friends was—fuck.
I had sat on King's front porch for over an hour, waiting for her to get back from work. Why I was so early, hell if I knew. I owed her an explanation for disappearing for almost a week—at least that was how I justified it. Then, she pulled up, and I saw how tired she was, so I suggested watching a movie. We could always talk in the morning.
I expected her to cross-examine me. Every other girl I'd ever dated would have. But King is so far from those chicks that I wasn't surprised that she instantly agreed. When she dozed off on the couch, I carried her to her bedroom, and in a spur-of-the-moment decision, I stayed. I'd been away from her for far too long, fighting my own demons, and it was time to change that.
>
What I didn't expect was getting jolted out of a deep sleep by her demons.
After she calmed back down, I was the one who wanted to demand answers. I knew she had damage, but witnessing the…the terror in her eyes, the need to hold her was overpowering.
Seeing all the tension leave her features reminded me of watching Den sleep in LA—the one time she was truly relaxed during those days.
King is still out when I slip out of bed at seven. I have to move. Think. I pull on my jeans, and Echo trails after me. I take that as her signal that she has to take care of business. After opening the back door, I watch her run around the yard.
What am I doing here?
My focus should be on training, but instead, I've let this girl completely consume me. It's been weeks, and I know jack shit about her. This is so not me. I used to be in it for fun, not drama. And after what I saw a few hours ago, there is a lot of that in King's life.
"You're up."
I jerk around and find Mags in her pajamas, standing in the doorframe to the kitchen. Her hair is a mess, and she covers her mouth as she yawns.
"Didn't go back to sleep." Why downplay the situation? From what I gathered, Mags is familiar with…whatever that was.
She nods and makes her way over to the Keurig. "I can never sleep past seven, no matter what time I go to bed. Which is why I hate closing the bar."
Is she making small talk? Echo plows back in and straight to her water bowl before disappearing down the hallway.
"Ha," King's best friend guffaws. "She is totally abusing this."
I cock an eyebrow, and she elaborates, "King doesn't let her in her bed."
Oh.
"Where is King?" Leaning away from the counter, she peers down the hallway.
"Still out cold."
She whips her head around so quickly I take a step back. Whoa.
"What do you mean she's out cold? What did you do?"
Huh?
"What do you think I mean?" This conversation is getting ridiculous.
Mags shakes her head. "You don't understand. She never goes back to sleep after…"
"The nightmare?" I supply helpfully.
She purses her lips and glances between me and the hallway. "It wasn't a nightmare."
"Excuse me?"
"It was a memory. She relives it over and over, and it always ends…like last night."
Oh, Jesus Christ.
"Did she tell you anything?"
I want to say yes to keep her talking, but at the same time, I can't do that to King. I know all too well what it's like to have your trust betrayed, and I would never do that to her.
"No, we were going to talk this morning."
"Okay." She picks up her steaming coffee and ejects the cartridge out of the coffee maker. On her way out, she pauses and rotates back to me. "Thank you."
My brows shoot up. "For?"
"Being there for her. She doesn't let many get close. In fact, no one besides Kiwi or me."
I nod, unsure what to respond, and she disappears back down the hall.
I'm sitting at the kitchen table, staring at my cold coffee. I hate that black murky-looking water substitute, but I need to have something in front of me to hold on to as I sort through my thoughts.
I still haven't told Den about King. Maybe I'm worried she'd be my voice of reason. Reason that I've shoved so far down then covered up by whatever I could find just so I don't have to admit to myself what's becoming more and more obvious. Something is wrong with King.
"Hey." Her hesitant greeting snaps me out of my internal battle, and I turn my head.
She is wearing my T-shirt, and my cock immediately twitches at the sight. I scan her bare legs and let my gaze trail back up until our eyes meet.
"My clothes were grimy from…and it was laying on the floor. I hope it's okay. I can go chan—" She fidgets with the material. Her nervousness makes her look like a little girl.
"It's fine." I force a smile on my lips, despite not feeling the emotion. Holding my hand out, I say, "Come here."
She slowly comes closer, and I reach for her as soon as she's at arm's length. I wrap my arm around her middle and lean my head against her chest. Her heart is hammering out of control, and I tilt my head up, finding her staring out the window. She's stiff as a board, and her fear of my reaction makes the decision for me. Can I afford instability in my life? No. Should I run for the hills after everything that I've seen? That is an all-caps FUCK YES. Yet, I can't. Kingsley Monroe has captured my attention, and no matter what, I feel alive for the first time in years. I feel something besides anger and resentment, and I'm not willing to give that up. Yet.
I push my chair back and stand facing her. She dips her head back to meet my eyes.
"Let's go talk somewhere."
We get dressed in silence. As we leave the house, she holds out the keys to her Jeep. I frown at her offering, and my girl only shrugs.
My girl.
I have no clue what horror story she will divulge to me soon, and still, I claim her as mine. I've lost my mind.
I drive us to the reservoir thirty-five minutes out of town. It's in the mountains, and she fumbles with her curved blade the entire ride. I've noticed by now that she carries one of her two knives everywhere. She is never without one. Last night, it was sitting on her bedside table.
Exiting the car, she tucks the knife in a sheath in the back of her jeans, and I stare for a second. What have I gotten myself into?
We walk for a good ten minutes before she speaks. "It's always the same…dream." Her tone is low, and she hugs herself. A sour taste settles on my tongue, and she hasn't even started the actual story.
Her eyes remain trained on the ground, and I take that as her wanting to get it all out on her own terms.
"My mother got sick when I was fifteen. It was just the two of us. She could no longer work her two jobs, and I had to find a way to help out. I was working at a diner for a while. I took on every shift I could get, but between school and taking care of her, it was never enough. We constantly got our power shut off, or Kiwi's grandmother had to bring us food."
Instinctively, I pull her into me and place a kiss on the top of her head. No wonder she and Kiwi are so close.
"When I was sixteen, I started working at The Pole. I had dropped out of school the year before."
The Pole?
The name speaks for itself. I stop dead in my tracks, and my arm drops from her shoulders as she keeps walking. All I can do is gape at her. King holds my gaze, and my brain fires off one signal after another for me to turn around. Leave. Screw feeling alive. I had too much fucked-up shit in my past. This is my fresh start. But I can't. I'm already in too deep with this girl I know barely anything about—something that will change very soon.
She reaches for my hand. When her fingers make contact, my heart skips a beat. Feeling her skin against mine, her soft palm against my calloused one, there is no way I can walk away from her. After she drags me along for several feet, my legs finally start moving on their own again.
"The Pole was an exclusive strip club. Men had to drop half their paycheck to get in, but with that, they also got certain perks."
Jesus Christ, I'm going to be sick.
"I was one of E's best dancers, which was why I was solely on stage. The other girls had to work the floor as well as dance. I never did."
Thank you, Lord.
King doesn't look at me as she talks. "Almost two years ago, one night after a double shift, I forgot my phone at the club. It was in the middle of the night, and I should've simply left it there, but I had the next night off, and I didn't want to be without it for that long. I didn't notice until I was almost home. Kiwi was expecting my text, so I had to drive all the way back to get it. I didn't want to worry him. When I got to the club, E's car was there. He had left earlier, and I knew something wasn't right."
When she stops her recap, I peer at her sideways, not having the guts to face her head-on. It's obvious she'd rathe
r forget the memory.
"If you'd look up the word creep in the dictionary, you'd find Isaiah Ellis's picture. He's everything you imagine a sleazy strip club owner to be: tall, scrawny but with a keg belly, ash-brown hair with a receding hairline, neon parachute joggers, and a white wife beater."
"Did he—?" I can't bring myself to form the words.
King understands immediately and rushes out, "No."
I exhale a sigh of relief, which is quickly replaced by another wave of nausea.
"But it seems I was the only one he didn't touch."
"WHAT?" My outburst makes several birds around us take flight.
King pivots toward me and takes my other hand as well. We stand in the middle of the wooded walkway, and she studies me. "Do you want me to continue?"
No. Yes. No. Fuck!
Instead of responding, I slowly lean in and press my lips to hers. There is nothing sexual behind the kiss, not like the first time, just the slightest bit of pressure. King's soft lips part, and I let go of her hands, framing her face and deepening the connection. My heart rate accelerates, and I pull her into me until our bodies are flush against each other. Heat spreads all the way to my toes, and as King's tongue seeks entry, I break the kiss. Her lids are hooded, and I have to take a step back to not crash my mouth to hers again. I didn't mean for that to happen. This is as much for her as it is for me—a way to test me. Do I want her to continue? Do I feel…something for her?
I interlace our fingers and answer her question. "Yes."
She dips her chin, and we start walking again.
"I can stop anytime." Her fear of me pushing her away for whatever is coming is audible in her plea.
"Okay."
I almost think she has changed her mind when she speaks.
"As I said, apparently I was the only one he didn't touch." She draws in a slow breath. "Walking into the club that night, I knew something was off. No one should've been there. The Pole closes at three, and it was almost four. But the music was blaring through the speakers, and even the lights were on. When I got inside, I heard a girl…"