Tequila & Lace

by Kimberly Knight

I pulled up to the Wynn hotel. I couldn’t believe I was doing this again. This wasn’t like my typical date with S&R. This was going into a hotel room knowing I would have to turn this client down for sex. I had to do this, though. My job depended on it. I’d decided to leave my gun at home. Even though this was a date with someone that was on Martinez payroll, I didn’t want to be patted down and have them find my weapon and all hell break loose and them question me why I needed to have a gun for a date. Of course I could say it was for protection—because it was—but this was my first date for them and I needed to build Jasmine’s and Martinez’s trust. I needed to get in good and find out what was going on, build my case and call in my team.

  After my internal pep talk, I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders and waited for the valet to open the car door. Due to the detailed instructions I’d received in the fake email address I’d used for Jasmine, I knew exactly where I had to go to meet my john.

  Go to the desk and give your name. There will be a key waiting for you. Pour yourself a drink when you get to the room. Don’t be late.

  I did as the email instructed and received a key for room 2316. Taking a deep breath, I pressed the button for the elevator and waited. My palms were clammy as I held my clutch purse and my feet were already aching in my sky-high heels. My seventeenth birthday flashed in my head, but I shook the memories off. I was older now—more experienced. This was different. This was by choice …

  It was my job.

  I walked in and pressed the button to the twenty-third floor. Giving myself one last once over, I made sure my yellow halter top dress was adjusted just right, my dark brown hair had enough volume and added one last coat of red lipstick.

  The elevator door dinged, letting me know I had reached my floor. I followed the signs to the room number, doing my best not to trip over my own feet in the three and half inch stilettos I chose to wear. I slid the key in the door and let myself in. The wine was sitting in an ice bucket with a single glass next to it. I hadn’t drunk any since the night of my birthday, not wanting to bring back the memory.

  I walked further in, trying to shake off my nerves. The suite was larger than your typical hotel room—almost like a two bedroom apartment. I walked toward the living room to set my purse down on the table where the wine chilled, passing a private massage room, a half bath, and a kitchenette.

  I wanted to get the date started, so I set my purse down a little harder than intended to give my john a heads up I was there and poured myself a small glass of the white wine. I was terrified, but I needed to keep a clear head to get through the night.

  Marco’s voice from seventeen years ago rang in my ears as I poured the wine. “You want to hold it by the stem so the wine doesn’t heat up by your body heat.”

  When I lifted the wine glass to my lips, I saw someone come into the room out of the corner of my eye, then I felt him stop behind me before I could turn around. He grabbed my arms with a little more force than what I was expecting and caused the glass to crash to the tiled floor.

  He leaned down so his lips were against the shell of my ear, “Don’t fucking move.”

  His voice was as cold as ice and I stopped breathing as fear instantly rose from the pit of my stomach. I could feel every finger of his hands digging into my skin and I knew it was going to leave bruises. This was not right; this was not what I signed up for and shit was about to go downhill—fast.

  Still holding me from behind, he started walking us out of the room, the glass crunching beneath our shoes.

  “What abou—”

  He gave me a sharp yank back, causing me to slightly trip and land against him. It was like hitting a brick wall and instantly sent a pain down my spine.

  “Quiet. I didn’t give you permission to talk. You will only speak when I say you can. Now be a good little slut and do as you’re told.”

  He threw me against the wall face first, my arms bracing the impact. Grinding his hips into my backside, giving me a glimpse of what the night was going to bring, he released me from his death grip and gave me a shove that sent me in the direction of the love seat faster than I anticipated, causing me to trip. I landed on my knees, catching the edge of the coffee table with my hand.

  Fuck!

  My body was sent into instant panic mode, I was terrified. This was not how the night was supposed to go down. I knew the shit Martinez’s girls were into, but this went beyond my comfort zone. I was expecting to offer companionship for the night, and the possibility of him bringing up negotiations for sex but turning him down.

  What the fuck was I going to do now? How in the hell was I going to get myself out of this?

  I was finally able to find my footing and stood, facing the couch. I didn’t dare turn to face him. My legs felt like Jell-O and I had to lean up against the plush seat cushion for support.

  “Sit,” he ordered.

  Like a deer in the headlights of an eighteen wheeler, I couldn’t move. My feet felt as if they were stuck in cement pillars.

  “Did you hear what I just said, bitch? Sit!” The boom in his voice when he gave the last command was like a gunshot going off in my head and I did the first thing that I could think of—I ran.

  When I got to the door, I twisted the handle and yanked. It budged only a crack before a large hand slammed it shut. The other hand twisted into the back of my hair and jerked me back.

  “You stupid slut! Lucky for you, I like it when they fight.” He wrapped his free arm around my middle and started dragging me down a hall to what I assumed was the bedroom.

  I kicked. I screamed. I tried to break free. It was no use.

  He threw me onto the bed, straddled my hips and grabbed both of my arms and held them above my head. That was the first time I saw what he looked like as I continued to scream, twisting and turning, trying with everything in me to wiggle out from under him. He looked nothing like what I’d thought he would. He had the most piercing blue eyes I’d ever seen, perfect teeth when he would give me his evil smile, and even though we’d fought a little, his hair was still perfect on his head. This man could have been any woman’s boyfriend. Instead, he was committing a crime.

  Still holding both of my wrists with one hand, he brought the other down and squeezed my cheeks. “Scream all you want, slut. It’s only gonna fucking turn me on that much more.”

  He turned my head to the side and licked me from my collarbone to my earlobe. Bile rose up my throat and the tears started flowing. A sob broke free when he started to pump his hips. Removing his hand from my face, he grabbed the front of my yellow dress and yanked, causing the clasps from around my neck to break and giving him access to my breasts.

  “Fuck, yeah. Just like I imagined. Fucking gorgeous.” He pulled my strapless bra down as well.

  Gorgeous.

  Paul.

  What the fuck was I doing?

  I was a trained FBI agent. I had a man who loved me, who made love to me. I wasn’t going down like this. Not after how far I’d come. I wouldn’t let history repeat itself. I was not my mother. I was better than that.

  I stilled.

  “Ah, someone is learning fast. Don’t fucking move or I will treat you like the cunt you are. Understood?” Not being able to speak out of fear that I would lose my resolve, I simply nodded.

  He kissed me and I tried with everything in me not to struggle. Then as I’d hoped, he slid off of me and stood at the edge of the bed. Cracking my eyes open, I watched as he started to undo his belt buckle. I quickly surveyed the room, looking to see what I had at my disposal. A bedside lamp sat on the nightstand only a few feet away.

  Taking a few deep breaths, I forcefully lifted my right leg, hitting him between the legs and watched as he crumpled to the ground. I knew I only had seconds, so I sprung up from the bed, grabbed the bedside lamp and slammed it against his temple. Holding the split top of my dress closed, I ran.

  Was he bleeding? Had I killed him?

  I grabbed my clutch, not wanting to leave anything behi
nd for him to find me. Not wanting to take a chance on the elevators, I looked for the exit signs and headed for the stairs. Shit! I was twenty-three floors up and wearing stilettos. Flashbacks of my seventeenth birthday flashed in my head again. Once again I was fleeing down a flight of stairs from a hotel room, running for my life.

  Knowing I had only seconds to spare if I didn’t kill him, I ripped off my shoes and started going down taking two, sometimes three stairs at a time. Once I got to the bottom, my heart felt as though it was going to explode, but I couldn’t tell if it was adrenaline or the stairs. I opened the doors and into the smoky, crowded casino, and ran straight into the bathroom. I went to the very last stall, locked the door, leaned my back against it and fell to the ground.

  Then it hit me. Wracking sobs came up my throat and I couldn’t breathe. Memories from seventeen years ago filled my head. Life repeating itself. Feeling the bile rise at the thought, I struggled to my feet and emptied my stomach contents.

  I wanted Paul.

  I needed Paul.

  I needed him to hold me. I needed to feel the protection that has always been the constant in his arms.

  After a few minutes, I put my shoes on and exited the stall. Women looked at me, but no one said a word. What was wrong with society these days? Getting a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I looked like a whore who had just got slapped around by her pimp … I kinda was. Maybe the women thought I was only fighting with my boyfriend and it wasn’t their place to help me. If they only knew what I’d just endured.

  I washed my mouth out, took a deep breath and left to grab a taxi to head home to Paul. I didn’t have the energy to drive myself home, and I didn’t know if the john would follow me. Paul was going to be pissed when he saw me, but I needed him. I had no one else, and if I didn’t tell him, I didn’t know when I would sleep again.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Paul

  I was in the middle of browsing for houses to buy when the doorbell rang. I wasn’t expecting anyone this late at night. It was almost midnight for Christ sakes. I wanted to get a list of houses to look at with Andi because I was quitting S&R and would no longer be welcomed in the house I was living in. Andi would since she would still be working for the company, but that needed to change as well.

  I peeked out of the dining room window and saw a taxi waiting in the street. Getting to my feet, I walked to the door and opened it as a body fell onto me.

  “Andi? What the fuck?” My heart stopped the moment I realized it was her. Her beautiful brown hair was tangled, her yellow dress was ripped, and her skin was starting to bruise where there wasn’t already blood from cuts. “What the fuck happened?” I asked, hugging her against my body.

  “You need to pay me!” the cab driver shouted from the street.

  “I’m … fine. Just pay him,” she whispered and stumbled past me.

  “The hell you are! You need to tell me what the fuck happened. Your date did this? Where’s your car?”

  “Just pay him.” She fell to the floor.

  “Baby …”

  “Go!” She began to cry.

  How was I supposed to leave her crying, bleeding and hurting in the entryway while I paid for a fucking cab?

  “And—”

  The Cabby honked and Andi whispered against the wood floor, “Please, just do it.”

  I ran to our room, grabbed my wallet off of the dresser and bolted out of the front door, jumping over Andi in the process. After glancing at the meter, I pulled the bills from my wallet and tossed them at the driver before I ran back to her. She hadn’t moved in the few seconds I was gone. I scooped her up, kicked the door shut, then sat on the couch with her in my arms and rocked her, waiting for her to tell me what the fuck had happened before I lost my fucking mind.

  “Baby, you need to tell me what happened before I lose my shit.”

  “It was like walking into my seventeenth birthday again.”

  Her body shook as tears soaked my chest. I held her tight against me, not knowing what else to do. I wanted to beat the ever living shit out of whoever did this to her. Who would book a date with someone to do this? A motherfucking asshole, that’s who.

  And I was going to find him.

  “He rap—” I couldn’t finish my thought as I pictured Andi being held down, a man over her and …

  She shook her head. “No, I got away.”

  I squeezed her tighter, my body relaxing a little as I sank into the couch, squeezing her harder against me. “Please tell me what happened so I can help you.”

  “You …” She sniffed. “You can’t help me.”

  “We can call Mark and he can call the police, have the guy arrested.”

  She sprang from my lap. “Shit, I have to call Eric.”

  I stood, reaching for her to bring her back to me. “Eric? Who’s Eric?”

  Confusion flashed in her eyes as she stared back at me, not moving to my outreached hand. “No … No one. Mark can’t help.”

  “What the fuck, Andi? What’s going on?”

  She sighed and rubbed her forehead. Blood transferred to her hand and she stared at it as if she didn’t realize she was bleeding. “My date wasn’t with a client from S&R. There’s just so much you don’t know.”

  “I’m not understanding this, Andi. You need to talk to me. Why did you have a date with someone not with S&R?” My hand was still in the air. I was hoping and praying she would take it, but she didn’t. Instead, she sank to the floor and started to cry again. I followed her and crouched down so I was on the same level.

  “Because my mother sold me when I seventeen.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense, baby.”

  She looked up at me with tears in her eyes. I pulled her to me. I didn’t care if she wanted me to. This was the woman I loved and if she didn’t want to be in my arms, then she needed to speak up.

  She didn’t. She let me hold her, her body shaking as she cried. “I want to save them all.”

  “Save who?”

  “The girls.”

  She wasn’t making any sense. One minute we were talking about her almost getting raped. The next we were talking about her losing her virginity. And now we were talking about her saving women? How did they all link?

  “What girls?”

  “The ones like Nelly,” she sobbed.

  Who the fuck was Nelly?

  “Baby, please. You were attacked. We need to call the cops.”

  She pulled back. “No!” She scrambled to her feet again. “No cops. I’m done. I won’t have any more dates outside of S&R. I promise.” She grabbed my head on each side, peering into my eyes as if she needed to get the point across. “I promise. I won’t have any more dates outside of S&R. No cops … please, Paul,” she repeated.

  “Are you in danger?” She didn’t say anything. “Andi …”

  She pulled back and started to pace. “Leah and Nina told me not to get mixed up with this crew. I didn’t listen.”

  “Why?” I snapped, my hands instantly clenched.

  “I wanted to help the girls.”

  I got it. It was similar to what I did with my self-defense classes and how I showed people—especially woman how to shoot guns properly. But the question was why? “Why baby? Why do you feel you need to put your life in danger and help them?”

  She groaned and started flinging her hands as she spoke. I could tell she was starting to get frustrated. “Because women shouldn’t be sold like I was when I was seventeen. We should be able to choose who we want to have sex with.” She stopped pacing again, dropped her hands to her side and I caught the sight of her lips starting to quiver again. “Don’t you get it?”

  More tears streamed down her face and I pulled her to me again. Her head fit perfectly beneath my chin and I let her cry against my chest once more. “Aren’t these girls going on a date with these men and choosing to have sex with them or not?”

  “Some … Some are. Some aren’t. Some are being sold without being told.”

 
; “Like sex trafficking?” She nodded. “Baby, that’s the cop’s jobs. You shouldn’t put yourself in danger like that.”

  She was silent for a long time as her crying eased. “I thought I could get through to the women. Make them quit working the streets.”

  “This isn’t what you told me on our picnic.”

  “I know, but I couldn’t tell you then. You would have thought I was crazy.”

  I groaned and shook my head. “Fuck, gorgeous. I could have lost you.”

  “Not a chance. I’m tougher than you think.”

  I sighed. “I bet you are.” I leaned down and kissed her lips. She winced slightly. They were busted and tasted of copper. “We need to call the cops and tell them what happened.”

  She shook her head. “No cops. They told me that if anything happened, they would be after me. I don’t want any more red flags.”

  “Then we’re going to the range tomorrow. I’m teaching you how to shoot.”

  She laughed. “You’re teaching me how to shoot?”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Yeah. I can’t tell you to quit, but I won’t have my woman walking around waiting for something like this to fucking happen again and not be prepared. If you have a problem with that, then too fucking bad. Fuck, Andi, this is what I do!”

  I was ready for her to quit, but I knew she wouldn’t. She was the independent type and there were things we needed to take care of before we took that step—like getting her another job.

  She stared at me for a few seconds and smiled, then winced and touched her lips as if the dry blood cracked and caused her pain. “Do I win anything if I have beginner’s luck?”

  How was she trying to lighten the mood right now?

  I thought for a moment. “If you hit the target in the heart, you win mine forever.”

  She laughed. “I thought I already had yours forever?”

  “Of course you do, gorgeous. Let’s get you cleaned up. You had a long night.”

  When I woke the next morning, she was already awake. I heard her on the phone as I walked by her room on the way to the kitchen. It sounded as though she’d changed her mind and had called the police to report the incident. She was telling them how it happened in room 2316 at the Wynn. I stood behind her closed bedroom door, listening, my blood boiling. But before she could hang up the phone, it struck me …