Sailor nodded again. “Good girl. I’ll leave you alone.”
He left his office and Sailor heard the lock being clicked from outside. She opened the folder, feeling nausea rise up in her, and a small moan of despair escaped her as she looked at the first photograph. Tilly looked terrified as the two men in the picture held her down, obviously making sure the photographer got a good shot of her. The next photograph made Sailor cry out. The knife was buried deep in Tilly’s stomach, and her face was contorted in agony. Sailor was trembling as she looked through every photograph of Tilly’s murder, each one more stark and brutal than the last. The last image broke Sailor and she whimpered in despair. There was another man now, strapped down to a chair, gagged and bound, his face contorted with grief as he gazed down at his dead sweetheart’s body. Tilly’s lover. They’d made him watch while they killed her. Sailor started to cry. Bart’s meaning was obvious. Step out of line and you die.
It was at that moment that Sailor knew she had to risk everything and escape the only life she had ever known.
Monica was chatting with the saleswoman in the wedding shop. She was used to Monica and Sailor coming now, Sailor had deliberately been picky over her choice, giving herself time to check out the fitting rooms, and any potential escape routes. She’d nearly been foiled by Monica insisting on accompanying her to the fitting rooms. Sailor had used her only weapon, she was Bart’s chosen one. “I don’t think,” she’d told Monica knowingly, “that Bart would be too pleased that you laid eyes on my body before the wedding. I am his, Monica, and his alone.”
Her implied threat hit the mark, and Monica let her change alone. Sailor was careful, never taking too long between changes to reappear but still, she managed to figure out the layout of the store.
Now, she could barely wait. Careful. Careful. She took her time choosing then took the dress with her. It was a huge, completely inappropriate choice, layers and layers of tulle that she would never wear in a million years, but Sailor knew what she was doing. The shirt she was wearing today was too big, plaid and her combat pants. In the many pockets, she had stashed the money she had been saving for the last three months, squirreled away and stolen from the commune’s money cache, a little at a time. Her birth certificate, with only her mother identified on it, and social security number, and any other thing she found in Bart’s office that terrible day, that she could use. She even had a small penknife, tucked in the back pocket of her pants. In all, she only had a couple of hundred dollars, but it was enough for a bus ticket. After that, she’d figure something out.
Monica didn’t even blink as Sailor walked toward the fitting rooms, calling back to her, “I won’t be a sec.”
Monica smirked. That atrocity that Sailor was carrying would take more than a ‘sec’ to change into. Stupid little whore. Lording it over her like she was some special kind of shit. Look how that worked out for Tilly, bitch. She turned back to the saleswoman, who knew all about the commune, all about Bart’s proclivities. Monica had told her all about them one night in bed. The girl, Bettina, had been a good, inexperienced, lay and Monica wouldn’t mind another go around.
The alarm started screeching through the shop, and both women said. “What the fuck?”
“The fire escape door,” Bettina looked terrified as Monica cursed loudly and drew out a blade, darting towards the fitting rooms.
“Fucking bitch…” She saw the fire escape door standing wide open, and the wedding dress dumped in the doorway. “Fucking whore bitch cunt!” Monica screamed, racing down the corridor and around the corner towards the exit, Bettina close behind her. They both trod on the dress in their eagerness to get out, but Sailor had ripped the tulle to shreds, and their feet got caught, tangled, and they both fell. Bettina shrieked as Monica’s knife came way too close to her neck.
“Shut up, you stupid bitch,” Monica sliced away at the fabric, trying to free them. Out of the fire escape, they could see the parking lot, and Monica raked it with her eyes, trying to spot Sailor.
Sailor dropped from the top of the fitting room wall and slid silently into the main room. Inspiration striking, she went to the register, hoping against hope that some rich musketry-muck had paid with cash. She was in luck. She scooped a wad of twenties out of the register, raking every note and coin in there into her pocket. Listening intently to make sure she could still hear Monica cursing away in the back, she quickly took stock and grabbed the wigs from the mannequins in the window. In a high-end store like this, they used real human hair wigs, and she could use them to disguise herself and then sell them. She stuffed them all into a plastic bag and then she was free. Running to the exit of the mall and out into the Florida sunshine, she flagged down a cab and asked the driver to take her to the bus station. In a half-hour, she was on the bus, hunched down, hiding…
And breathing freely for the first time in her young life.
Los Angeles, six months later…
Bodhi ate a piece of toast half-heartedly as he watched his son push his cereal around his bowl. “Kiddo, that will get all mushy if you do that.”
“I like it mushy.”
Bodhi sighed. Well, at least Tim was speaking to him now. “Okay, then.”
Tim glanced at his father briefly, then looked away when Bodhi met his gaze. “Can I go to school now?”
Bodhi nodded, not knowing what else to do. Since, Gemma had left Tim with him, this had been their routine. Tim, thankfully, had settled into his new school happily, but at home…
At home, Bodhi thought, bitterly, it’s been a Cold War. Tim hadn’t taken to him at all. He was rude, silent, and resentful. Bodhi knew Tim blamed him for his mother leaving him, but Bodhi had no idea what else to do. Poppy, his assistant, had suddenly quit, telling him she was sorry but looking after a kid hadn’t been in the job description.
“It’s just not my jam, Bodhi, I’m sorry.”
Since then, Tim had seen off two childminders and one English tutor. Bodhi had canceled gigs, interviews, recording sessions to try and bond with his son, but nothing was working. Tim was vastly unimpressed with his father’s musical friends, couldn’t care less about the instruments Bodhi played. Even the priceless grand piano in the living room held no interest. Tim kept to his room, his vast-well-stocked-with-everything-a-boy-could-need room, and didn’t even explore the pool or the grounds of Bodhi’s luxurious Hollywood Hills mansion.
Bodhi got into the driver’s seat of his RAV4 and they began another silent drive to Tim’s school. Gemma had insisted that Tim had the best education and Bodhi, ignoring the fact she was making demands while asking an enormous favor, agreed. God, he would do anything for his son. He knew that the moment Gemma had brought Tim into his life. He just wished he could feel like anything but a deadbeat dad.
, “Hey, kiddo? What say we go shopping for a new laptop for you this weekend?”
Tim looked at him with those huge green eyes even wider. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Thank you, Bodhi.”
Progress, although he wished Tim would call him Dad. Deciding not to push it and ruin the moment, he just smiled at Tim and was rewarded by a slight smile. “That one you have is ancient; I’m surprised you can still use it.”
Tim’s smile disappeared, and he looked away from his father. “Evan brought me that laptop before he went away.”
Ah, the sainted Evan. Bodhi sighed. When Tim talked at all about his life before Bodhi, it was about his former stepfather Evan. Evan Teal was a detective up in Portland, and to hear Tim talk, the most amazing man he’d ever met. Evan had practically raised Tim from birth so Bodhi couldn’t help, but be grateful. He just wished and hoped that Teal had some faults, so that he wouldn’t feel such like a loser. When Evan and Gemma had split up, Tim had been devastated. And now Bodhi had insulted Evan’s final gift to Tim.
Bodhi opened his mouth to apologize but closed it again. Why bother? He dropped Tim off at school, barely receiving a “Bye.”
He checked his watch a
nd drove into the center of L.A. to his agent’s office. Maurice had summoned him, obviously trying to get him back in the game after six months away. Bodhi’s little sabbatical wasn’t making Maurice his fifteen percent, and he was getting antsy about it.
Maybe it is time I got back to work, Bodhi thought now as he steered his way into a parking space. I’m sure not doing anything helpful at home. He sighed and got out of the car, and opened the office door.
Sailor gritted her teeth, for the fourth time that morning, Maurice Winston leaned across her, pressing his sweaty body against hers. “I’ll move,” she said disdainfully, pushing back her chair, so it rammed him in the ankle.
She had worked for Maurice for three months, and if she hadn’t been desperate for money, and eager to hide out in her little apartment, she would have quit the day after she started.
Maurice Winston was a leach, a man who clearly saw his assistant as his property. When he wasn’t making gross suggestions to her, he was outright rude, criticizing her at every turn, even though Sailor ran his office like a tight ship. Her past, the rules, the chores of the commune had left her with one good thing; she was organized, efficient, punctual and she knew Maurice knew it too.
But the harassment he gave her every day, was it worth it? She had been searching out other job opportunities, but it seemed the rest of L.A. wasn’t hiring just yet. She had no choice to put up with his behavior.
Escaping the clutches of the ‘Children of Love’ had only been the start of her tumultuous new life. Getting off the bus in L.A. after traveling for days, she had checked herself into a small motel and after a hot shower, a night’s sleep and vending machine food, she had taken stock. The money she had stolen was enough that she could manage for a month or so. She had no remorse about taking it, either. She checked the Miami local news on a computer at the local library. The robbery and her disappearance were never mentioned. No, because I know too much, hey, Bart? I know about Tilly. What you did to her.
Even now, the thought of Bart’s anger scared her. She knew he would try to find her and if he did, she was a dead woman. She had constant nightmares about him stabbing her to death. But as time went on, she began to relax into her new life. She found a studio flat close to Maurice’s office, and although it was tiny, she loved it. She began to make it her own with books, records, and flowers on every surface. She even loved the small kitchen and began to teach herself how to cook. After work each night, she would come home, change out of her work clothes into sweats and eat, watch TV, play music or read. And she loved every moment. It was hers and hers alone.
Maurice was reading a letter, oblivious to Sailor’s annoyance. She sat back down in her chair and started to go through emails, occasionally mentioning important notes to him. He grunted as if he wasn’t listening properly and Sailor rolled her eyes. It would mean her staying late and making a cheat sheet of everything he needed to know. Asshole.
She was so engrossed in her work that she failed to notice he had put down the letter and was standing too close behind her. Sailor stood to go grab a photocopy and Maurice pounced.
He swept a foot under hers and Sailor lost balance, falling into Maurice’s clutches. He tumbled her to the couch and began to kiss her. Sailor struggled, panicking, angry and terrified. “Get the fuck off me!”
Maurice grinned. “Come on now, Sailor, you know this has been coming for a while. Don’t fight it. I know you want me.”
Sailor pounded his chests with her fists. “Let me go, cocksucker! Get off me!”
Maurice, still grinning, pushed her skirt up to her hips. “Come on, lovely girl, show me that sweet cunt of yours.”
Sailor lost it then, and drawing back her arm, she punched Maurice in the eye, her ring tearing a piece of flesh from below his eyebrow. He rocked back, roaring in pain. “Fucking bitch!”
Sailor scrambled away from him, but he grabbed her ankle and pulled her back. “I’ll fucking kill you, you little whore.”
“Join the fucking queue, asshole,” Sailor hissed and rammed her foot into his groin, hard. Maurice screamed and doubled over, and Sailor skittered away from him. “I quit, you monster. And believe me, I’m going to the police and the press. You don’t ever get to put your hands on me again, motherfucker!” She was raging now, every ounce of hurt in her life coming back to her, and releasing through her anger and hurt. “Who the fuck, do you think you are touching me like that?”
Maurice smiled nastily. “More than you’ll ever be in this town, cunt. How are you this naïve? Did you really think I hired you for your typing skills? No, Princess, it was because I wanted to fuck you and I always get what I want.”
He lunged for her again and got his hands around her throat, choking her as she tried to scream, struggling to pull his hands away. Maurice kicked her legs apart and tore her panties from her, and then she heard his belt loosen, his fly open.
Oh god, no, please, not like this…
She twisted away from him, and his hands loosened enough for her to scream at the top of her lungs. Maurice’s body weight was heavy on her, and she knew that he had the upper hand.
and shock, hauled Maurice off her and threw him across the room. Maurice was short, the other was a giant, and Maurice was no match.
“What the fuck, do you think you’re doing?” He roared at Maurice who was trying to stand up. Her savior held out his hands to Sailor and, gratefully, she took them, her whole body trembling. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
Sailor gazed into the man’s huge green eyes, seeing only empathy, and she shook her head. He put his arm gently around her shoulders. “It’s okay, lovely, I won’t let him near you again. You…,” he turned back to Maurice. “You’re so fucking fired, Maurice. How dare you behave like this?”
Maurice was straightening up his clothes. “Oh, fuck off, Bodhi, it was just a little fun.”
Bodhi’s face was a picture of utter disgust and rage. “A little fun? Fun? When a woman is screaming like that, that’s not fun, Maurice, that’s rape.” He turned his beautiful eyes back to Sailor. “Honey, what’s your name?”
“Sailor.” A whisper, her throat raw from being choked. Bodhi swept a gentle hand over her cheek, brushing away her tears.
“Sailor, sweetheart, we need to go to the police. I’ll back you one hundred percent.”
“Now wait a minute…”
“Shut the fuck up, Maurice. Now.” A lion’s roar.
Maurice shut the fuck up. Bodhi steered Sailor into a chair and pulled out his phone, but Sailor put her hand over it and shook her head. Bodhi frowned. “Are you sure?”
She nodded, meeting his gaze. Even through her teary eyes, her shock was slowly turning to numbness, she was enthralled with this man’s beauty, his grace, his kindness. She wanted to close her eyes and lean into him and sleep with his arms around her. She sighed. “I just want to go,” she said softly.
Bodhi touched her cheek. “Then we’ll go. Maurice, you’re a lucky man that Sailor doesn’t want to press charges, but as from this moment, you are no longer my agent.”
Maurice seemed to realize that his biggest cash cow was on the way out of the door. “Now, wait, Bodhi, there’s no need…”
Bodhi turned his furious eyes on the other man. “There is every need, asshole.”
Maurice smiled nastily. “Then you should know, I’ll do everything in my power to finish you in this town. Everything.”
“Go right ahead,” Bodhi said calmly. “Try it. See how far you’ll get.” He took Sailor’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “Come on, sweetie, get your things and we’ll get out of here.”
Sailor nodded and quickly grabbed her purse and a few personal items from her desk. Maurice watched her.
“I don’t even need to tell you that you’ll never work in this town again, you little bitch.”
Bodhi stepped up to Maurice and punched him across the room. “You don’t ever talk to her or any other woman like that again, motherfucker. You’re lucky Sailor doesn’t want the po
lice involved, but believe me, I hear of anything else like this, and I’ll call your wife and her billionaire daddy. And by the way, if a check for three, no, six, six months severance pay for Sailor isn’t in the mail by tomorrow, I will go the police. So, go fuck yourself.” He looked at Sailor, watching him, waiting by the door and he smiled the most beautiful smile at her. Sailor felt her stomach flutter. “Besides,” Bodhi continued, “you’re so wrong. Sailor already has another job. If she agrees, she’ll be working for me and twice at the salary. Not only that, but I will make sure every employer in town knows and respects her. Think about that, Maurice.”
He stalked over to Sailor and offered her his hand. “Ready to go, lovely?”
Sailor smiled and took his hand.
In Bodhi’s car, Sailor finally stopped her hands trembling. She looked at the man beside her. Bodhi Creed, she’d heard of him, of course, he was her boss’s, scratch that, ex-boss's – biggest client and yet she hadn’t met or even spoken to him before today. His magnetism was a powerful thing, even just sitting beside him, she couldn’t help wonder at his incredible physical beauty. Swarthy skin, stubble, dark curls flopping around his head. And those eyes, god, she could get lost in them. She pulled herself up sharply. Do not get a crush.
“Thank you for what you did back there, Mr. Creed. I can never repay you.”
He turned and smiled at her. “It’s Bodhi, and there’s nothing to repay. Are you feeling okay now?”
She nodded. “I am, thank you. Where are we going?”
Bodhi blinked. “I was just heading home. Automatic, you know? Would you feel more comfortable going somewhere public? I thought I would make you some lunch.”
A rock god making her lunch? Was this happening? He was so…normal. So, down to earth. “You really don’t have to.”
No Promises: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance Page 47