Booted

by Pam Godwin

  “Lorne?” Raina jerks away from the balding man and clasps her throat. “What are you doing here?”

  Red. It’s all I see, smell, feel. Fire seethes from my pores, coloring the world with my rage. A fire so potent and deadly it claws through my chest and grips my windpipe with flaming fingers.

  John Holsten’s looking for her, and here she is, hanging out with some asshole at a strip club.

  I probe the dark fields around the building, every nerve in my body on edge.

  “I’m so sorry.” She digs into her stolen boot and pulls out a wad of cash. “Here.” She separates two twenty-dollar bills and holds them out with a trembling hand. “I have the knife, too.”

  She lowers a backpack from her shoulder and rummages through it.

  Blood rushes to my extremities and pounds in my ears. Where did she get the rest of that cash?

  I turn my gaze to the man. His department store trousers, collared button-up, and squishy dad bod announces his status as a bored office clerk in middle-income America.

  He’s with her to squeeze out an hour of pleasure away from his nagging wife.

  Then it dawns on me.

  Raina’s with him because she needs money.

  “Did you already pay her?” I ask the man.

  “Um… Yes?” His eyes tick between me and the woman he will not be fucking. “Are you her pimp or something?”

  “Return his money.” My voice sounds like breaking teeth and punctured lungs.

  She stares at the cash in her hand, her expression stark.

  “What’s going on?” The man stands taller despite the quiver in his jowls. “Is this the guy who banged up your face?”

  Adrenaline surges through my body. I plant my feet wide apart, burning to crack bones and spill blood.

  “No.” Her eyes lift to mine, watching me from beneath her lashes. Whatever she sees in my expression tightens her shoulders and stutters her breath.

  I need to reel myself in.

  I’m not a religious man, but in some ways, I have the wisdom of Solomon. I’ve been to the very bottom, a place where there’s nowhere to look but up. The belly of hell. Nothing compares to that darkest hour of my life. Not the threat of John Holsten. Not this sickening situation with Raina.

  “I made a mistake.” She grabs the man’s wrist and presses the money against his palm. “You should go.”

  He glances at me and back to her, working his jaw. “But we—”

  “Go home to your wife and kids.” I step toward him, forcing him to back up.

  My I.Q. was higher than every prisoner and prison employee I encountered. Yet I learned to accept other men’s shortcomings. Beneath every hard, scarred, tattooed surface is a story of tragedy and strife.

  Even this guy. He raises his chin and meets my gaze head-on, as if he’s more concerned about Raina’s safety than getting his face smashed in. As much as I want to do exactly that, I remind myself that everyone is suffering.

  “I won’t harm her.” I nudge up my hat so he can see the truth in my eyes.

  “Okay.” With a parting glance at Raina, he hurries to his car.

  I pull out my keys and press the remote to unlock the doors. “Get in the truck.”

  “Lorne, I…” She watches the man speed out of the lot, his taillights glowing red in the darkness. “I can’t.”

  “You haven’t been to John’s house.”

  “No.” She glares at the empty road. “I’m working on that.”

  “He’s not there.”

  “What? Are you sure?”

  “I went there yesterday.” A crawling sensation itches between my shoulder blades, and I scan the surrounding fields. “Wherever he is, he’s looking for you.”

  “I’m sure he is.” She crosses her arms, her beautiful face a picture of stubbornness. “Julep Ranch is the first place he’ll look.”

  “He wouldn’t dare step onto my land, but I’d love to see him try.” I point at the truck, a silent order to obey me.

  Her eyes hone in on my raised arm, on the necklace that ropes around my wrist. “I’m so sorry I stole…”

  Tuning her out, I stride toward the pickup and climb in.

  I itch for a drink. A numb haze would make all this go away. My hands clutch the steering wheel and squeeze.

  She stares at me through the windshield, her jaw wriggling back and forth. After an eternal minute, her shoulders lift with a sigh. Then she grabs the backpack and joins me.

  As I pull out of the parking lot and steer the truck onto the dark street, Raina’s proximity presses against my senses.

  Warm femininity teases my nose. The skin on her toned arms lures my gaze. The rasp of her gentle breaths dries my mouth. She’s too damn soft and delicate and all around me, caressing my need for female company and making me uneasy.

  I scowl at the road and try to relax the tension in my muscles. “That wasn’t the first time you solicited a man for sex.”

  “No.”

  “Was John Holsten the first?”

  At the edge of my vision, she shakes her head and stares straight ahead, her eyes watering in the glow of passing headlights.

  Very few things surprise me anymore, but fuck… Not once did I suspect she’s a prostitute.

  I fail to keep the judgment out of my tone. “How many johns have you had in the last twenty-four hours?”

  “None. I can’t exactly advertise on the streets around here. So I found a strip club.”

  “You dance, too?”

  “No, but men go there with one thing on their minds.” She glances at me. “I mean, that’s why you were there.”

  My neck tightens. “I don’t have to pay for sex.”

  “But it’s easier, right? No attachments. No small talk or expectations beyond a thrust and release.”

  If I had a woman wrapped around my cock, I’d give her a lot more than a thrust.

  Her seductive brown eyes stroke the side of my face. “I can repay the money I owe you.” She drifts a hand toward my thigh, her voice melting through several octaves. “I can give you relief—”

  I capture her wrist in a ruthless grip and shove her away.

  She rubs her arm and shoots me an offended look. “You don’t have to be cruel.”

  “Don’t try to sell yourself to me again. Just because I’ve been in prison doesn’t mean I’m a walking goddamn hard-on. I know how to take care of myself.”

  Jerking off was one of the few ways to pass time in a place where every minute felt like an eternity.

  She looks out the window, her chest hitching and falling into the stiff silence.

  My attention flicks between the street and the rearview mirror. I don’t know if John has the balls to run me off the road. To get this woman back, I suspect he’ll do anything.

  “I get that you’re not interested in me,” she murmurs. “But even the hardest man craves a soft touch.”

  Her hands rest on her lap, her fingers slender, with short, unpolished nails. I imagine them gliding up my chest and over my shoulders like feathers, teasing, stroking.

  A shiver sweeps through me, and I lock my grip on the steering wheel. “Start talking.”

  I want to know about her relationship with John, why she stayed with him for two years, and what she’s been doing for the past twenty-four hours.

  I find her eyes, huge, liquid brown, and mesmerizing in the moonlight. Her brows knit together, and I harden my expression.

  A swallow jogs in her throat, and she turns her attention to the backpack at her feet. Opening it, she removes my hunting knife and sets it on the seat between us. A water bottle comes next, which she offers to me.

  I shake my head and veer onto the highway, scrutinizing every vehicle in my path.

  She unscrews the cap and takes a long drink. “After I left your truck in Sandbank, I hitched a ride west. The driver could only take me halfway to John’s house, but I needed to prepare anyway.” She puts the water bottle away and glances at the sheathed weapon beside my hip. �
�I took the blade in case I ran into trouble hitchhiking. I knew I couldn’t use it against John, because you know what they say. Never take a knife to a gunfight, and John has a lot of guns.”

  All of which he took with him when he abandoned his house.

  “Your forty dollars paid for my motel room last night.” She straightens the skirt of her dress. “I needed money to buy a gun. That’s what I was doing tonight. Earning some quick cash.”

  At her pause, I give her a firm glare, ordering her to keep talking.

  “You want to know how I started…” She smooths her long black hair behind her ear. “How I started in this profession?”

  I want to know everything, and she won’t leave this truck until she tells me.

  She reads my silence and licks her lips. “I grew up in McAlester, right down the road from the Big Mac.”

  My head jerks back. Big Mac is the nickname for Oklahoma State Penitentiary, where I was incarcerated.

  “When I was young,” she says, “I hung around the prison and met a lot of inmates as they were released.”

  “Not the best place for a kid. Where were your parents?”

  “Never knew my dad, and my mom spent more time with her drug dealers than she did with me. She couldn’t keep a job. Couldn’t pay the bills. Meanwhile, I matured early. Boobs, ass, all the things that attract older guys.” She lifts a shoulder. “Didn’t take me long to learn how to use my body in the world’s oldest profession.”

  My blood chills. “How young?”

  “I was fourteen the first time. He was just released from prison for—”

  “Pedophilia.”

  “Assault with a deadly weapon, actually.

  A growl vibrates in my chest.

  “Okay, maybe he had a thing for young girls.” She presses her knees together. “He was gentle with me. I’ve heard horror stories about girls losing their virginities. Mine wasn’t so bad. For a guy in his twenties, he seemed to know what he was doing. Afterward, he took me to a diner and fed me the best meal I had in years. He also told me which convicts to steer away from, what to look out for, and how to protect myself from diseases.”

  If I hear much more of this, my molars might crack from the pressure.

  “I never saw him again.” She falls quiet for several minutes, seemingly lost in thought. “I didn’t do it all the time. Not until after high school. By then, I was desperate. I figured out when inmates were released, how to catch their interest, and which ones had the money to buy an hour with me.”

  A bitter taste floods my mouth. “You could’ve flipped hamburgers.”

  “I didn’t have that luxury.” Her voice cracks. “Minimum wage doesn’t pay hospital bills.”

  “Hospital bills?”

  “Three years ago, my sister was diagnosed with Chronic Renal Insufficiency.” She draws her arms tight against her ribs and stares down at her empty hands. “By the time I met John Holsten, she was in severe kidney failure.”

  Two nights ago, she said she had no family. Did she lie?

  “Tiana was just a baby at the time, barely a year old.” She hugs her waist. “I was willing to sell my soul to save her life. The doctors kept delaying organ transplantation, and the bills were stacking up. Her illness inspired my mom to get clean for a while, but she still wasn’t working. If we had insurance and money, Tiana would’ve had options. Longer hospital stays. Better medical care.” Sniffling sounds break up her words, and she wipes her nose. “I was just one person, juggling the bills and Tiana’s around-the-clock care on my own. And failing.”

  My chest constricts, and my fingers twitch to touch her. The impulse is so unfamiliar I instinctively shut it out and return to numbness.

  “I was in the parking lot of the prison when John rolled up beside me in his fancy truck.” Her hands ball into fists. “I assume he was there to visit you?”

  “He liked to check up on me, but I refused to see him.”

  A glance at the rearview mirror reveals miles of darkness. A sick part of me wishes John would show up. I’d love to drag his ass into the street and drive over him a few hundred times.

  “Before John, I’d only been with convicts,” she says. “But he had that huge expensive truck, designer suit, and an aristocratic air about him that screamed money, like a big businessman or oil tycoon. The way he looked at me, I knew he saw an easy lay in a cheap motel. When I looked at him, I saw an opportunity.”

  “It was all a front. He didn’t have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of.”

  “I didn’t know that at the time, but I should have. My gut whispered to run, and I ignored it.”

  According to Jake, Raina is twenty-four, the same age as Conor. At least she wasn’t under-aged when she met John.

  That doesn’t stop my blood from boiling.

  She releases a sigh. “He offered twice my usual rate and took me to a nearby motel, where I made it my life’s mission to give him the best damn hour he ever had. I wanted to ensure he came back. I thought if I could turn it into a regular thing, maybe add some overnights and long weekends, I could earn enough money to make a difference in Tiana’s treatment.”

  “Did you tell him about her?”

  “No. But when he showed up at our apartment two days later, he knew. I hadn’t given him my address, hadn’t told him anything about me, but he knew every aspect of my life and exactly how to manipulate me.” Her voice shivers into a silent whimper that makes the hairs stand up on my neck.

  Once her tears start falling, she seems unable to stop them. It’s a reluctant cry, buried in her small hands, eking out in soft, muffled sobs.

  Her vulnerability tightens my skin and fucks with my heartbeat. I haven’t seen tears since the night Conor was raped, and I didn’t stick around to watch it. I hungered for blood and death so ferociously I couldn’t think past revenge.

  If only I reacted differently, I wouldn’t have ended up in prison.

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell Raina to pull her shit together, but I won’t do that. She doesn’t strike me as a woman who cries often. Maybe she needs this.

  She curls toward the door, hunching her shoulders and hiding her face. She needs privacy, but I can’t give her that. She’s trapped in this truck with me until I reach the ranch. The best I can do is give her some background noise.

  I turn on the radio and adjust the volume to balance the sounds of her misery. Better Man by Little Big Town drifts through the speakers, and her posture loosens, slipping deeper into the seat.

  I’m anxious to hear the rest of her story, but I force myself to wait and focus on the landscape, the light traffic, anything that might indicate we’re being followed.

  Forty-five minutes later, I navigate the truck into Sandbank and turn onto the dirt road that leads toward home.

  Her head lifts from the window to watch the dark fields blur by. “I can’t stay with you.”

  “Finish your story. Then we’ll discuss what happens next.”

  “You can guess the rest of it.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  She releases a shaky breath and rubs her palms on her thighs. “When he showed up at our apartment, he offered me a deal. If I went to Sandbank with him, he’d make sure Tiana received the best care possible. It was more than I ever hoped for. My mom decided the sun rose and set in his wallet and agreed to look after Tiana in my absence. So I went with him, and when I arrived at Julep Ranch, I thought he was the richest man in Oklahoma. He lived in a sprawling estate and was drilling oil in his own backyard. It was easy to believe he had the power and money to help my sister. The promise of that made up for the…” She averts her gaze and swallows. “For the job I was there to do.”

  My stomach twists at the thought of her spreading her legs for John Holsten. “When did you find out he was broke?”

  “A couple of weeks after I moved in. Tiana still didn’t have the promise of a new kidney, and my mom hadn’t seen a dime of financial aid for the ongoing dialysis. When I confront
ed him, that’s when the threats began.

  “He confiscated my phone and told me if I left the ranch or communicated with anyone, including his sons, he wouldn’t just kill my mother and put Tiana in foster care. He would make sure my sister got lost in the system without the treatment she needed. He swore he had the power to place her with a family who had a history of preying on little girls and he would see to it that she suffered unspeakable nightmares before she died of her illness.” She pulls in a ragged breath. “I believed him.”

  He doesn’t have money, but he’s proven to have powerful connections with unsavory people. I wouldn’t put it past him to do exactly what he threatened.

  “He didn’t put me in chains until later, but I was in a prison, nonetheless.” Anger leaks into her voice. “As long as I didn’t disobey him, he gave me updates on Tiana. Every communication device within my reach was locked, but I managed to steal Jarret’s phone a couple of times to contact the hospital and validate her health. Those calls brought me some semblance of peace. Until we moved to the middle-of-nowhere Texas.”

  “Jarret said he tried to talk to you the day they forced John to leave.” I slow the truck on the dirt road, delaying our arrival at the ranch. “Why didn’t you tell him?”

  “I was scared. I didn’t know if I could trust him or if he could even do anything to help me.” She finds my eyes in the darkness. “Could he have stopped John from killing my mother and putting Tiana in foster care?”

  “He could’ve threatened John the same way he threatened him to leave.”

  Her face crumples. “Oh, no.” She buckles at the waist, hugging her chest. “I should’ve…” Tears saturate her whisper. “I should’ve told him. If I had, maybe Tiana would’ve—”

  “Raina.”

  She clamps a hand over her mouth, trapping a sob.

  “Raina, look at me.”

  Her damp eyes lift to mine.

  I roll the truck to the side of the road and stop. “Do you think John would’ve let you go as easily as he let go of the cattle business?”

  Her hand lowers to her lap, and she shakes her head, her voice hoarse. “I don’t know.”

  Tears slip over high elegant cheekbones, and slender shoulders hunch around the prettiest face I’ve ever seen. Her hair hangs like a velvet black curtain around her arms, her curvaceous body flawlessly shaped in the form of every man’s erotic dream.