Too Much to Lose

by Holt, Samantha

  “Y-your phone,” she says, breathlessly.

  I jolt upright and realize it’s vibrating in my jacket pocket and playing some awful tune that tells me exactly who it is.

  The client. Her uncle.

  Reluctantly, I pull it out and slide to answer. “Hunter.” I let my gaze trail over Jess’s exposed breasts until the voice at the other end drags my attention back to reality.

  “Have you found the money yet?” Carl asks.

  “No, not yet,” I say through clenched teeth.

  “I’ve given you plenty of time.”

  I back toward the door and Jess begins rearranging her bra and top. My stomach sinks. Could Carl have any worse timing? “One more week. That’s all I need.”

  “Hunter?” Jess jumps off the counter.

  “You’re with her?” Carl’s voice is tinged with tension.

  I place my hand over the speaker and sigh. “Jess, I need to go. Work stuff,” I explain. “Call me?”

  She nods and I study the colour in her cheeks and her bright green eyes with regret. When she goes onto tiptoes and kisses me on the cheek, as if I’m some good guy who’s not screwing with her life, my heart sinks. Before I can weaken, I give her a wave and step out of the apartment. She shuts the door slowly, keeping her gaze on me as I lift the phone to my ear.

  I spin on my heel and storm down the steps. “Carl, I’m here.”

  “You’ve got five days. If you can’t get it done by then, you can say goodbye to that big fat cheque.”

  “I’m doing everything I can. I’ll find the damned money.”

  “See that you do.”

  “Where’s the money from, Carl? What are you going to do if I find it?”

  “What’s it to do with you?” he splutters.

  “I’m an investigator. It’s my job to ask questions. If you can give me some more info it would make my job a hell of a lot easier.” I step out into the street and stop by the Harley. Leaning against it, I lift my gaze to Jess’s apartment and picture her in it, stripping off her clothes... maybe taking a shower. Christ.

  “Does it matter? She’s a thief. Find out where it is and you’ll get your big payday and you can forget about Jessica.”

  “If you’re getting me involved in something dodgy—”

  “Five days, O’Reilly,” he barks and the beep at the other end of the line tells me he’s hung up.

  “Shit.” I scrape a hand through my hair. “Shit, shit, shit.”

  I scrub a hand across my face run some calculations. If I don’t catch up on bills, I’m going under within a month easily. Everything will be gone. I have no other jobs going on at the moment as Carl was insisting this be top priority which means no money coming in. I’ll be no better than my deadbeat alcoholic father and I’ll lose Mam’s house.

  I’ve got to find that money and fast. I stare up at the concrete block in front of me once more and shake my head. I’ve been going about this wrong. Instead of trying to trace the money from the present, I should have been going from the past. Problem is, I got so tied up in Jess, I’m barely able to think straight. Her past is the key here. I need to do some digging.

  Pulling up Mitch’s number, I press dial and tap my foot. It’s Sunday. He should be around, but he could be on a job. He’s been known to disappear at the last minute to an exotic destination to guard someone famous. Sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice becoming an investigator.

  “Hey, man,” Mitch answers.

  “Mitch, are you in? I need a favour.”

  “Sure, just give me five minutes.”

  “Why?”

  “Company.”

  I smirk. Typical Mitch. While I gave up women when Mam got sick, Mitch seemed to think it was his duty to sleep with all the women in London in my stead. “I’m in Peckham at the moment anyway.”

  “See you in a bit then.”

  I stuff my phone in my jacket, put on my helmet and head over to Mitch’s in Pimlico—a far cry from Peckham. Being a bodyguard to the rich and famous sure pays off. With a few savvy investments, Mitch is now rolling in it. He has no idea I’m about to become bankrupt and he’ll never know if I can help it. Money and friends do not mix. I learned that the hard way.

  It takes me almost half an hour to get there. The big block building is nothing like the old apartment blocks that blight the city. Made in a weird geometric design, the sandy coloured building screams wealth. A fountain sits in front of it and trees are dotted about the courtyard. The modern touch doesn’t do much for me but nor does the dated design of my mother’s house.

  By the time I get to his apartment, whoever was keeping him company is gone. He ushers me in and hands me an open bottle of beer. I take a drink and settle myself on the leather couch. Everything is white and shiny in Mitch’s apartment. White walls, white floor, white kitchen. He has a cleaner come in every day so it’s always spotless.

  Mitch sits opposite on a large black recliner and rests his arms on his knees. He’s in a robe so I can guess how he’s spent his Sunday. I can’t help feel envious. To spend a Sunday in bed with Jess would be amazing.

  Goddamn it. I doubt Mitch ever has problems like this. He goes from woman to woman with no problem. With his expensive haircut, chiselled jaw and pretty boy looks, he has no trouble keeping them sweet either.

  “What’s up, Hunter? You still on a job.”

  “Yeah, and I need some help.”

  “I’ll do what I can.”

  “Are you still seeing that woman who works for Social Services?”

  He shrugs. “On and off, yeah.”

  “Do you think you can get some info from her?”

  Mitch scowls and runs a hand through his short brown hair. “Probably. But what do you need from Social Services?”

  “The girl I’m investigating was adopted by her aunt when her parents died. I want to know if she was ever checked up on. She ran away from home. There’s got to be a reason for that. I haven’t been able to find the aunt yet.”

  “Name change perhaps?”

  “Something like that. She was already married so it can’t be that.”

  “Could have got divorced,” he suggests.

  “I couldn’t find anything.”

  “Give me the details and I’ll see what I can get Holly to dig up. When do you need the info by?”

  “ASAP. I’m on a tight deadline. I’ve got to have this wrapped up by Friday.”

  “Friday? Shit, man, Holly will definitely figure something’s up if I just start pumping her for info without a lead up. I haven’t called her in a few weeks.”

  “Mitch, you’re the best at what you do and that includes women. Just do your thing and get the info.”

  Mitch laughs and leans back against the black couch. “It’s a good job I love you, man. So what are you going to be doing while I’m charming the beautiful Holly?”

  “I’m not sure. I need to retrace her steps. Find out exactly what she’s been doing these past couple of years.”

  “What’s this about?”

  “Money.”

  “Isn’t it always?”

  “The girl is a thief. Took a lot of money from my client.”

  Even as I say it, it feels wrong. But the client has to be right. Why else the dodgy past and disguises? Why pay to send me off on some wild goose chase? Jess has to have the money and I need to stop conveniently forgetting that every time I want to kiss her.

  “And she’s still in the UK?”

  “Yeah, weird, I know, but she seems smart, this woman. Has a head for numbers and stuff. I can only guess she’s figured some way of making more money and is biding her time.”

  Mitch’s brows dart up. “Sounds like you know her quite well….”

  I grind my teeth, considering how much to tell him. We might be close but he doesn’t need to know how much I’m fucking my life up. “In a way.”

  “And…?”

  Eyes narrow, I glare at Mitch. “And nothing. I’ve talked to her, tried to get some i
nfo and that’s it.”

  Mitch raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. I lean back, leather squeaking beneath me and drain the bottle of beer. He laughs.

  “What?”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Mitch, you have no idea…”

  Chapter Nine

  Jess

  Just after nine p.m. it happens. I’m watching crappy Sunday T.V. when I hear a shuffle. Nothing unusual about that. The walls of the apartment are paper thin and footsteps and shouting are a daily occurrence. But the hairs on my arms stand on end and I stiffen. Am I being paranoid after today? I can’t believe someone was shooting at me. Why? But the flowers and weird phone calls on top of it all are enough to set me on edge. More shuffling outside my door, then tentative footsteps. Heart in my throat, I force myself to unclench the T.V. remote and turn to face the door.

  My vision swims. A pink envelope sits on the floor in front of it, clearly having been pushed under my door. Someone is out there. With slow movements, ones hindered by fear and uncooperative limbs, I edge over to the door and pick up the letter. My hands shake. I press my ear to the door first but I can’t hear anything. Then I brave a peek out of the peephole. A shadow darts across the wall, as if someone is skulking away and I have to clamp a hand over my mouth to prevent a squeak from escaping.

  I stand there with my eye pressed to the peephole for a while but don’t see anything more. Finally summoning the courage to look at the envelope, I press my back to the door and turn it over. My name in the same careful writing that was on the flower cards. The ripping of the letter as I open it seems insanely loud to my ears. Can whoever delivered it hear me? Are they still out there somewhere?

  I draw out the letter and a strong sweet scent hits me. The paper is perfumed. That makes this even more frightening. Like maybe this person bought the paper especially for me. Who owns scented writing paper in this day and age? The words on it make my vision blur. The letter and envelope drop from my finger before I even realize I’ve let them go and I scrabble for my phone on the kitchen side.

  It takes me several tries to find Hunter’s name in my contacts even though I have very few in there. I press call and hold my breath until the ringing stops and I hear a click.

  “Jess?”

  “Hunter, I need you.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Someone… someone is outside my apartment,” I whisper.

  “Stay there. I’m coming over. Don’t answer the door to anyone apart from me.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll be about thirty minutes. I’ll try to be quicker.”

  He hangs up and I stand there for a while, still frozen. Hunter is coming though. I’m not sure when I became so reliant on him but knowing he is on his way soothes my racing pulse a little.

  Footsteps again and the pounding in my chest picks up. I yank open a kitchen drawer and pull out a large knife. Back pressed against the door, I clutch the knife and wait. My knees tremble at the thought of someone out there, waiting for me. Why are they trying to torment me? Could Hunter have been right? Someone wants to hurt me?

  The word whore plays over and over in my mind. Is this to do with my past? I will forever regret my desperate decision to take part in porn films. The only time I don’t feel like a fraud or a dirty whore is in Hunter’s arms. No wonder I couldn’t resist kissing him today. With him, it’s like I’m normal again. I can forget I had sex with strangers for money—not very much money at that. When I was invited to do a shoot, I thought it would be big bucks but turns out only the famous porn stars earn a fortune. Half the girls I met worked second jobs or sold themselves on the street.

  For most people, doing porn is as close to being a prostitute as you can get without standing on street corners. Perhaps someone has figured me out and wants to teach me the error of my ways. I snort and grip the hand of the knife until it digs into my palms. No need. I figured that out long ago. If it hadn’t been for an empty belly and time on the streets, I never would have even considered doing something like that, but the studio made it all sound so easy. A few shoots and I could earn enough cash to set me up for life. Idiot.

  My muscles begin to hurt and my back aches as I wait. I’m not sure how long I’ve been stood there but it seems too long. What if something has happened to Hunter? Then the thump of boots rings out and I tense, straining to listen. Is it my tormentor or my saviour? And if it’s both, could Hunter end up in trouble? The thump in my chest turns sickening and I feel light headed.

  The knock on the door sends my heart into overdrive and I leap away.

  “Jess?”

  I release the air from my lungs and fling open the door. He steps in quickly and shuts it behind him. Before he has a chance to say anything, I throw my arms about his neck and hold on tight. The knife clatters to the floor. Hunter shushes me and smoothes his hands up and down my back. My pulse slows and my throat loosens.

  “What’s going on, princess?”

  “There was someone outside my door.” I wave a shaky hand toward it. “They left me a note.”

  He releases me carefully, as if I might fall to the floor without his support. He might be right. How did I go from living on the streets and fending for myself to needing someone else so badly? But then I never had someone—what?—stalking me before.

  When he pulls open the letter, I wince, bracing myself for his reaction. Maybe he’ll figure me out. I wasn’t exactly thinking straight with someone hanging around outside my door. So much for enjoying just one day of Hunter’s company and sending him on his way. Between the kissing and the fondling and now inviting him into my mess of a life, I’m doing very little to keep him out.

  Hunter scuffs a hand across his scruffy chin and ponders the letter. “Whore? What’s that about?”

  I shrug. In denial? Perhaps. Scared? Hell, yes. But I can’t uproot myself over some psycho. I pray my life isn’t going to come crumbling down around me.

  “An ex?” Something hard glitters in his gaze.

  “I don’t date.”

  “At all?”

  “Not for a long time.”

  “You’ve attracted someone’s attention. First gun shots, and now this.”

  “We don’t know they were shooting at me.”

  His raised brow tells me to stop being so stupid. Letter flung aside, he skims his gaze across me, a frank assessing look. “Damn, you’re shaking.”

  I glance down at my hands and realize he’s right. Both hands clamped under my arms, I swallow. “I got some flowers at work too.”

  “Like the ones you got here?”

  “Yeah. Calling me a whore too.”

  “Someone really has it in for you.” He curls a hand around my upper arm and guides me to the couch. Sitting next to me, Hunter encloses my hand in his. “Jess, I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s going on.”

  The warmth is a shock to my system and I chew my lips. Never has the desire to tell all been so strong. Those wide shoulders and fierce brow look equipped to handle everything. But I still don’t know this man. Not really. It’s too much of a risk.

  But I do know what he does to my body. Even with the threat of a stalker hanging over my head, my skin blazes with need. It shoots to my core and consumes my mind. While I should be figuring out why someone wants to scare me, I’m remembering those hands on my skin and considering how it would feel to have them all over me.

  “I don’t know, Hunter. Truly. Maybe it’s someone from the pub or something.”

  His lids droop slightly, disappointment shadows his eyes. “There’s no one who has it in for you? Someone from your past perhaps?”

  “No!” I yank my hands from his and stand.

  “I’m sorry, Jess, but I’ve got to ask. You know you can tell me, right?”

  “I don’t like you implying I’ve invited this kind of behaviour. I know how I look but I don’t want attention. Even yours,” I snap before turning away and facing the bedroom door.

  I hear his deep in
hale. “I’m aware you didn’t want my attention, but I don’t believe that’s true now. However—” the couch creaks as he stands and I feel him behind me. His hands come around my shoulders “—I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything. This is what I do, remember? If you want whoever this is to stop, I need to know more. You’re so closed up, princess. You don’t need to be. Just open up to me.”

  I stiffen and whirl to face him. “Why are you pushing this? You don’t know me, I barely know you. Why are you suddenly so invested in this?”

  “I’m scared for you, okay?” The words come out gruff and in a rush as if he struggled to admit as much.

  This softens me. I let slip a twisted smile. “I’m scared too. I didn’t mean to snap and I’m aware you’ve been incredibly kind to me, even though I’ve given you no reason to be.”

  His gaze searches mine. “You’ve given me every reason to be.”

  It seems like he might kiss me but he changes his mind. I swallow my regret. “There’s very little to tell you. I haven’t left a trail of broken hearts. Even if I had, why start doing this now? It’s probably just some weirdo, picking on a random woman.” All the lies threaten to clog in my throat. I’ve been keeping secrets for so long, why does it feel wrong to lie to Hunter?

  “Whoever this weirdo is, he knows where you live and where you work. You might think this is nothing but someone shot at you. Hell, they even tried to run you over.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. That was an accident.”

  “I thought so at the time but now… I’m not so sure. Face it, you’re in trouble.”

  He says this so seriously I almost believe him. Perhaps I do believe him. I can’t think why someone would shoot at me. Ridding the world of sin probably. “So what do we do?”

  “We can go to the police but there’s not much they can do at the moment. If we find out who it is, we can get a restraining order.”

  I snort. Everyone knows how useless those are.

  He nods, telling me he’s thinking the same. “I know. Until this person does something drastic, there’s very little we can do.”