Layers Deep

by Lacey Silks

  “I have to go, Tristan. She’s not safe anymore.” The swell in my eyes had been controlled too well, but my pulse was another story.

  “Stay.” Tristan’s firm grip around me pinned my body in place. “Your mother’s safe with Julian. I drove them to the airport myself this morning.”

  “What are you talking about? She went with Julian?” I turned on my side.

  “It didn’t take much persuasion once I told her Wright was in the area.”

  “So you knew before she told you? How? No one knew.”

  “People talk. They suspect things. And someone like Wright has a big enough mouth to have bragged about your mother to the wrong person.”

  “Is that why you came with me?”

  “Yes.”

  “You should have told me.”

  “You would have run. You would have gone to your mother, taken her out, and left the city. You would have worried about her and about Wright being too close.”

  Cross was right. That was exactly what would have happened. My mother’s safety always took priority. The moment Tristan told me about Wright, I would have fled. And I wasn’t sure I’d have had the strength to come back.

  “I need you focused, Allie. With your mother safe in my home, will you focus?”

  “She’s at your house?”

  “She’s a guest at my parents’ house. They don’t ask questions. And I promised your mother I’d let her leave once Wright was out of the way.”

  “Out of the way?”

  “Stay here.” He stood up and strolled to his rented Bentley. He came back carrying a long-range rifle, one used by professional snipers. I’d shot quite a few rounds of those, practicing at different shooting ranges. It took less than a minute for him to set it up.

  “Do it,” he’d said.

  “Now?”

  “I’ll get rid of the body the way you want. I won’t ask any questions. No one will. You can go on with your life as if nothing had happened. And on Friday you’ll come to my office to fill out the paperwork I need you to.”

  I got comfortable in front of the rifle and adjusted my body on the grass surface. The metal handle felt so right in my hand, its cold grip eerily soothing to my touch. My elbows dug into crunchy stems; where the yellowed strands should have tickled my flesh, it felt like they cut right in. I breathed evenly, looked through the zoom, and aimed a perfect shot. My finger held steady on the trigger as I focused the center of the shot on Wright’s temple: right smack in the middle.

  But everything inside me shook.

  Another steady breath filled my lungs. I released it slowly, bunching my cheeks like a chipmunk to control the air flow. It didn’t help. Jitters flew along my skin like shock waves, and as much as I wanted to calm the trembles, I couldn’t. The beating of my heart pounded against the ground, trying to free the organ right through my ribcage. Its pulse vibrated underneath me. I breathed in and out a few more times, cracked my neck once to each side, and refocused. Tristan lay at my side, waiting patiently. I bit my lip, and then wiped my nose into my sleeve and brushed streaking tears away with my hand. Why the hell was I crying? This was the moment I’d been waiting for. This was what I’d wanted for thirteen years. I’d imagined looking into Wright’s eyes as I took his life, but this was good, too. My mother would be safe. I’d never have to worry about the bastard again.

  “This isn’t you, Allie.” Tristan whispered. “As much as you want this son of a bitch dead, you can’t fire unless it’s in self-defense. Your father wouldn’t want you to do this, and if I know you well enough, you know this is wrong.”

  “I have to,” I sniffled. My vision through the rifle’s focus glass blurred. I couldn’t make the shot. The one perfect opportunity I had to kill him, and I blew it.

  “What if I promise you he won’t bother you again?” Tristan slowly removed my hand from the trigger.

  I shut and opened my eyes and looked through the fogged lens again. More tears spilled down my cheeks. “You can’t make that promise. No one can. He has connections.” I kept adjusting the rifle, determined.

  “So do I. Much better than his, Allie. If you’re looking for revenge, this is not the way to do it.” His voice soothed me, and my attention slowly began to drift away from Wright.

  “Your mother will be safe,” he continued. “She’ll go outside more than once a week. And neither of you will ever see him or have to worry about him again.”

  “You can do that?” I finally looked at Tristan through my watery eyes.

  “Yes. Revenge is sweetest when it can last forever.”

  I sniffled again, feeling a heavy weight lift off my shoulders. Someone was finally on my side. And at that moment I realized the mountainous burden I’d been carrying with me for the past thirteen years. Tristan Cross climbed up the steep slope toward me, took my hand, and helped me down before detonating a bomb underneath the mountain of guilt holding me down.

  The rifle fell over. I sobbed for over an hour. Tristan held me tightly in his arms. His chest was a perfect comforter for my head, down on the ground, in the middle of nowhere. For the first time since that horrible day, I had someone I could confide in whom I trusted not only with my life but also with my mother’s life. I finally had someone to depend on. Someone willing to erase the pain and heartache I’d held inside for years. And I knew I’d found more than an employer in Tristan Cross. I’d found a friend.

  The scars from the past would remain, but I could heal with Tristan at my side. I wanted to heal. The deep layers of my wounds were slowly patched up and stitched with his care and compassion. He was the first person in my life who understood what I’d gone through and what my family had endured. I didn’t have to retell the story; my mother already had. She’d told him everything, even the fact that she’d always known I was hiding under the staircase, listening to the brutal attack.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “For what?” He rubbed the sides of my arms, kissing my forehead.

  “For using you. I only wanted this job because I needed your help to get rid of him. I didn’t think you’d do it unless I worked for you and earned your trust. And here you are, barely know me, and you’ve offered to do what I wanted you to without having to be asked,” I sobbed, feeling as if I’d just swallowed a truth potion. Would he change his mind about hiring me?

  “Work for me, and we’ll call it even.” He kissed the top of my head squeezing his arms around me.

  “Really?” I looked up from underneath my soaked lashes. I’d never allowed anyone to see this side of me. Gosh, I’d never felt this vulnerable and safe in my life—especially with a man at my side. Could I ever repay Tristan? If he truly made Wright go away, and I believed he could, I would be grateful forever. I would owe him my and my mother’s lives.

  “Okay, we’ll fill out the paperwork on Friday.” I leaned back down.

  He held me there until the sun began setting and cool evening air forced us to move. We drove straight to the airport and flew back to New York that night. I spoke to my mother on the phone. She said she didn’t deserve the luxurious bedroom in the Cross residence, but she felt safe, and that made me happy. Tristan drove me home, kissed me – this time on my lips – and left. He assured me I no longer had to worry about Wright. He’d take care of it, so long as I kept my end of the bargain and came to his office in two days, on Friday.

  I promised I would. Except before then, I wanted prove myself worthy to Tristan Cross. I would be the best hooker in town.

  CHAPTER 7

  The alley smelled of semen and piss. I stepped onto the sidewalk and stripped off my casual jeans and comfortable cotton top. The mini from an eighties boutique rose up my thighs each time I took a step. A gust of wind blew, but my hair stood in the same position I’d sprayed it in. A new aroma of cheap perfume hit me: a blend of exotic blooms with a spice. The only part of my bitchy ensemble I envied were my boobs, which were usually squished under the bullet proof vest of my uniform. As naked as I felt without it
, this was the only way I could prove to Tristan Cross I deserved the job at his company. He’d already done too much for me.

  I strolled to the curb, regarding the redhead at the corner. Portia was her name. I’d paid her off with three times what she’d earn in a night to let me join her turf, but she still glared at me like she wanted to rip my throat out. She worked the sidewalk toward me with her head held high, her ass swinging behind her like a pendulum. I observed her every move, soaking the appearance into my own.

  “Your lips are too pale,” she observed as she handed me her red lipstick. Her Bronx accent was forced; she couldn’t have moved here too long ago.

  “Thanks.” I pulled out my own from the small pouch I was using as a purse. “So, you think he’ll show today?”

  “He drives by here every second day but never stops. I figure he goes to the west side, but a girl I know said he doesn’t. Why do you think he’ll stop for you?”

  I pulled out a pack of fresh bubble gum and handed her a piece. “Just a hunch. Any idea why he drives by?”

  “What am I, psychic?” As nice as she had been a minute ago, she turned on her pumps and strolled back to her corner.

  I popped the strawberry strip into my mouth and chewed it with the full motion of my jaw the same way the redhead did. Each time a car passed, she spread her legs wider until you could almost see her panties. And I wouldn’t be surprised if she wasn’t wearing any. Finally someone stopped and rolled down his window. She leaned inside, chit-chatting. Her skirt rose at the back. The undercurve of her ass hung out. After a minute she jumped inside the car—just like that. As the Dodge pulled away, she waved out the window and then flipped me the bird.

  I have to be a bigger bitch than that, I thought.

  The sound of screeching breaks echoed through the alley. The quiet purr of an engine rumbled. My stomach tightened and I took a deep breath in. Although I hadn’t seen him yet, it had to be Cross.

  It’s now or never.

  I turned around as the window of different model of a Bentley he must have owned rolled down. Adding an extra sway to my hips, I paced my fuck-me walk the way I’d practiced at home, in my new and only pair of five-inch heels.

  He leaned over to the passenger side, and with his lips in a straight line he gritted through his teeth, “What the fuck are you doing?”

  Not exactly the greeting I expected. “You interested, hun, or not?” I replied, chewing my gum like a cow.

  One of his brows rose. “Get in.”

  “Deposit first.” I stretched out my hand. It took all my willpower not to just jump into the car to my mouth-watering hunk.

  He struggled not to smirk, and his mouth finally softened. Cross reached into his wallet and pulled out a handful of crisp hundreds. His dimple sank just a little in his chin and my heart raced. I counted the batch he gave me, acting indifferent while my pulse jeopardized my cover.

  “You’re mine until morning,” he stated bluntly. “Now get in.”

  I hopped into the Bentley. My mini rose up. One more inch and my panties would show. Cross pressed the gas and the tires squealed underneath us, pushing my back into the leather seat. Inside, the aroma of coconut air freshener with a hint of scotch overpowered me. He added more life through the pedal, jutting me back even further. The car responded to his gentle touch—always purring, even when he fuelled it to the max.

  “Do you drink and drive?” I asked.

  “No, why?”

  “I smell scotch.”

  “You have a good nose. Now can you tell me what the fuck you think you’re doing?”

  His tone threw me off guard, and it took longer than usual to get my wits in order. At least I hadn’t had any tequila tonight. I took a deep breath, saying, “Applying for a position. If it’s a hooker you want, a hooker you’ll get, but I prefer you call me Katie.” I fluttered my lashes.

  The scar on his lip lifted by a fraction. He liked Katie.

  “Did you know women get kidnapped from here? They just disappear and never come back.”

  If Cross was trying to scare me, it wasn’t working. It would take a lot more than that for me to run the other way. I’d trained for this; I’d always known I was meant to do something big with my life. Being a police officer was just a stepping stone. I’d been waiting for an opportunity to make a difference. It wasn’t all about using Cross—not anymore. Whatever this job entailed, it was important to him to do it right, and I wouldn’t let him down.

  “All jobs come with consequences.”

  “But why, Allie? Why would you risk this?”

  “I have a need to prove myself.” My tone changed from a girlish flirt to my own, serious and confident.

  His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “You were hired the minute I laid my eyes on you. All you had to do was fill out the paperwork.”

  Really? Was I right to feel the connection that first day we saw each other? The little pause when his gaze came to rest on me—Tristan had sought me out at the academy on purpose. It was me he’d wanted all along.

  “Why me?” I asked.

  “Because you...”

  “... look like a hooker?” My gasp lingered in the air between us.

  “No!” He pressed the brakes harder than intended stopping on a red light. “Maybe a hooker was the wrong word to use, Allie. The job requires someone who can deal with palmy men.” Cross raised his brows.

  He was referring to my stripping days. Yes, if there was anyone I could deal with, it was men with sticky fingers and twitchy palms.

  “With your experience, you’ll blend in easily. I need someone as beautiful as you who will force every single cock-sucking pimp to wag his tail like the dog that he is, before we rip his balls off.”

  His dirty mouth with the dimple in his chin just became sexier than before. That beautiful tightening in my stomach returned as heat flowed along my skin. And, did he just call me beautiful? I shut my eyes. Concentrate, Allie. I’d never had this happen before. How did Cross manage to make me feel so self-conscious? I’d never been so confused when I applied to the force, but there was nothing normal in the way Cross hired. And I chose to prove myself; now I had to suck it up. I shook my head.

  “You’re looking for someone who can pose as an escort girl, not a street whore, aren’t you?” Suddenly my eighties dress up felt awkward.

  “You’re not only gorgeous, but also smart. That’s a lethal combination. But not exactly for an escort girl, either. I don’t want you to worry about the specifics but yes, you’ll definitely get to use your skills from the past, including the stripping ones. We have two weeks to get you prepared. This is not something you can screw up because if you do, God help us both.” He turned his head to look at me on a stop sign.

  What kind of a job was he hiring me for exactly? I needed to know what I was in for before we moved forward. Pole dancing or taking off my clothes for strangers wasn’t exactly on top of my list. Although, at this point, I was sure no matter what Cross asked me to do, I’d do it in a heartbeat. After all, he’d promised to get rid of Wright for me. Hadn’t he? Cross was a man of his word and hopefully Wright was on the other side of the planet. Better yet, I hoped he’d sent him to the moon, without any way to return.

  “I never fail, but you need to tell me what the job is.” I felt my jaw tighten. This was not something I would budge on. “All cards up front.”

  Cross let out a long exhale and pulled over to the curb. His gaze devoured my face, then my cleavage and exposed thighs. I squeezed my knees together. He clicked his seat belt free and reached over my legs to the glove compartment. His warm breath trailed on my thighs and I held on to the sides of the seat. I could have sworn he took a longer inhale while down there too. Everything inside me turned as my thighs tightened to hide the sweet pulse deep between my legs. Cross sat back up, his jaw set firm, and I knew he was fighting his desires as much as I was mine.

  “This job requires you to be on duty twenty-four seven. Sign it.” He handed me the sh
eet.

  “What is it?”

  “An NDA. You will not speak to anyone about this, ever. Understood?”

  Somehow, I’d thought I already had the job. Was I mistaken? For the first time since we visited my mother, doubt crept in as to whether he’d actually hire me. And by now, I couldn’t imagine not working for him. I had finally met my match, and he believed I was the right choice. I couldn’t let him down.

  “Of course.” I scribbled on the last line.

  “You didn’t read it.”

  “I trust you.”

  “Mistake number one. Don’t trust anyone. Do you really want this job or not?” He raised his brow again.

  The bossy Cross was not as much fun as the flirty one.

  I turned toward him, well aware my rising mini exposed me more than I would have liked, but Cross was wrong. “You’re not just anyone. And if I can’t trust my potential employer who will keep me safe, then who can I trust?” I stood my ground.

  The silence between us sizzled with a mixture of impatience, apprehension, and hormones. I swear if it weren’t for the street light directly above us, I’d have straddled his lap to taste that scar on his upper lip again just to convince him I was right. We breathed in the same sequence. His chest rose and lowered at the same time as mine. This was it. This would decide whether or not we would work together. No matter what he’d said, Cross had to know the same. He had to know I trusted him; but Cross needed to trust me too.

  “It will be dangerous,” he finally said.