by Aleah Barley
“No, I think it’s…admirable. You live your beliefs.” She sighed. “It’s because you’re Catholic, right? You think sex should only happen inside marriage?”
“Something like that.” Finn had never actually been that firm on the concept of premarital sex. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in the purity of matrimonial love, but he’d seen too many women—and men—who’d made the mistake of making a lifetime commitment because of their hormones.
It didn’t always work out.
He’d rather people took the time to learn about themselves and their future partners, even if that meant having sex outside the bounds of wedlock. Hell, he wasn’t even opposed to birth control. He might be a stuck-up control freak, according to his siblings, but he wasn’t an idiot. His sisters had sex, and—because they wanted to make the most of their lives before starting a family—they also took pains to ensure they didn’t get pregnant.
Thank God.
But Gina didn’t need to know that.
“Get the map,” Finn said, gesturing toward the glove box. “Figure out where we are and how to get back to the main highway. I’m sick of moving slow.”
Gina frowned, clearly put off by the change in conversation. “I thought you were worried about someone watching the main road.”
Yeah, but that had been before she’d kissed him in the darkness and before he’d reached for her in the sunlight. If he turned slightly, he could just make out the bruise developing at the base of her neck where he’d marked her. He could definitely feel the sticky liquid making his briefs cling to his thighs.
Hell, he was a hypocrite.
“Things have changed.” Forget the men chasing them; right now the biggest danger to Gina was his libido. “I want to get you somewhere safe, and I don’t want to dawdle.”
“Okay. You want to tell me where we’re going?”
There was a long pause. If he had any other place to go, that’s where they’d be headed, but… “Chicago.” He forced the city’s name out through clenched teeth.
“Chicago.” She repeated the word as if she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. “We’re going to Chicago?”
“It’s the Paris of the Midwest.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s Detroit.”
Finn snorted. “They wish.”
“You’re from Chicago,” she said, pointing out the obvious. “It’s where you grew up. It’s where you lived…before. Back when you were a priest.”
“Yeah.” His jaw tightened. “It is.”
“So, why are we going there now?”
“I want to stash you somewhere safe, and I’ve got a limited number of options. If we were back in Las Vegas, I’d turn you over to Captain Howard, but that’s not an option…” His voice trailed off awkwardly. “My family still lives in Chicago. They can keep you safe.”
“You want me to meet your family?” Gina sounded like she was being strangled. “You don’t mean that.”
“Why not? My brother’s a state cop. He’s good at what he does, and he can help us. Besides, my mother’s got a spare bedroom for you to stay in.”
Not that Finn would be welcome in his mother’s house.
In the six years since he’d left Chicago, she hadn’t said a single word to him. Oh, she hadn’t frozen him out entirely—there were still cards on his birthday and presents for Christmas—but he hadn’t gotten a single phone call since he’d gotten the job in Las Vegas. And the few times he’d been back in town to visit, she’d refused to see him.
Kaitlyn Finn was a tough woman who’d raised six children with hardly an hour’s help from her husband. After he’d died, she’d gone back to work full-time in the high school cafeteria at Saint Michael’s, working her way up from counter staff to queen of the kitchen, reigning over her small domain with a heavy wooden spoon.
She’d raised her oldest son to go into the priesthood, and one of her proudest moments had been when she’d stood beside him on the steps of the cathedral the day he’d been ordained.
When she’d heard he was leaving the priesthood—forsaking his vows—she’d wept.
“You want me to meet your mother.” Gina’s words were wooden. “Really.”
“Don’t worry, she’ll like you.” It was the truth. From the outside, the two women couldn’t be more different, but inside, they were both tough as nails. “She’ll try to feed you up. You’ll be lucky if you don’t gain ten pounds while we’re there.”
“I hope not. That would be career suicide.”
Gina really, really needed another job. Finn bit his lip to keep from telling her that.
There was nothing wrong with being a dancer. It was a beautiful art form, and most of the girls at the casino looked like they were enjoying themselves. But there was something wrong with the expression on Gina’s face whenever she talked about her job. As if she’d just tasted something rotten and needed to wash her mouth out with soap.
“Why’d you start dancing?” he finally asked.
“My father was the town drunk. He owed money to the owner of the Beavertail, so when I turned eighteen, I started working there to pay off his tab.” Her curls danced in the sudden gust of wind. “That makes it sound worse than it was. The truth is, I would have taken the job anyway. It paid better than being a waitress in the diner, and there wasn’t much else to do in my hometown.”
“What about college?”
She snorted. “College was never an option—not for me—so I danced at the club for a year before things got rough…” She spread her hands in some kind of meaningless gesture. “Vegas, baby. Sin City.” She drew out the word “sin” until it was about ten syllables long, and he knew it was for his benefit.
He didn’t take the bait.
There was a short pause and then she sighed.
“Dancing at the Rollio is different. The hours are good, the pay’s decent. I’ve got friends there. But…” Something in her face hardened. “I’m old.”
“You’re almost ten years younger than me.”
“Bastard.” She yelped. “How do you know that?”
“I’m a cop.”
“And I’m a showgirl. Twenty-eight is old in my profession. I go home at night, and my feet ache like you wouldn’t believe. I hurt all over, and there’s nothing I can do about it, no way I can make it any easier. In a couple of years, I’ll be completely washed up—out of the life—and I won’t have anything left. Most of the girls I started with are already gone. They went to school or got married, but that’s never going to be me.”
“There’s nothing stopping you from changing your life.”
Gina snorted.
“Seriously,” Finn said. “I did it. I was a priest, remember? A man of peace. I’d never even held a gun until I moved to Las Vegas. I was thirty-two years old, and every other guy at the academy treated me like his father. I did the work, paid my dues, and now I’m a detective.”
“You worked your way up through the ranks that fast?”
“Yeah, I…I worked hard.”
He hadn’t had anything better to do.
All those years, he’d thought nothing of pulling down overtime and covering shifts for men who’d gone out too late the night before. He’d done every single thing that was asked of him—turning himself into the perfect clockwork policeman—and why not?
What did he have to go home to except a one-bedroom apartment, a futon bed, and an oversize television he used to watch the game on Sunday night?
“And you think I should be more like you?” Gina asked.
“No.” He wouldn’t wish his life on anyone, not even his dearest enemy. He certainly wouldn’t wish it on the wisecracking woman beside him. Gina deserved something better, something fresh and new. “When you were little…what did you want to be?”
She snorted. “A ballerina.”
“No, seriously.”
“Seriously, I wanted to be a pretty little ballerina. In pink tights. Not that my dad could afford lessons. I used to watch every movie I
could get my hands on, learning ballet positions that way. I wanted to…” Her words slowed. Her gaze turned thoughtful. “I wanted to take the world by storm and dance in New York City, and when it was over, I was going to come back to California to open up my own dance studio. To teach other girls just like me. Girls without any other choices.”
“Nice work if you can get it.”
“Sure.” Energy zipped through her, and she straightened excitedly in her seat. “But I’ll probably end up back where I started, stripping in clubs to make my mortgage payment.” There was a long pause. “Thanks anyway.”
“Thanks for what?” He could see her face in the reflection from the passenger side mirror. Her eyebrows wiggled.
“Thanks for believing I could change.”
Finn sighed. “I’m glad I could help.”
“I’m glad you could, too.” She reached across the center console and put a hand on his arm, the touch light and easy. “Is this okay?”
“Sure,” Finn lied, not having the heart to push her away. Besides, the slight pressure on his arm left him strangely warm inside. It felt nice. Like something he could get used to.
Chapter Eleven
By the time it got dark, they’d made it back on the interstate and the truck’s gas gauge was fluttering over the empty mark. “If we get to a city, I can hit a pawn shop,” Finn said. “I’ve got some tools in the back. We should be able to get twenty, thirty dollars easy.”
But he’d never get his belongings back.
Gina sighed as she watched the bright lights flash by on the highway, advertising all the things they couldn’t afford: gas stations, motels, and restaurants. Ahead on the right was a slightly seedier district with a fifty-foot pole sticking out of the earth, advertising Cold Beer and Hot Women to anyone driving for miles around.
Her stomach churned. She knew the kind of place they’d find at the bottom of the sign—old, run-down, with more customers than they knew what to do with, usually truckers passing by on the interstate. It was the kind of place she’d avoided since leaving California. It was also the kind of place where a woman could make some quick money if she had the right moves.
“Pull off up ahead,” she told Finn.
“You need to use the restroom?”
“Not quite.” She started rummaging through her bag, looking for her brightest lipstick and darkest eyeliner. “I’ve got an idea about how to get some cash.”
It took a moment for comprehension to pass behind Finn’s blue eyes. A few hours earlier, she would have found his innocent routine adorable, but now she knew better. The man had been a freaking priest. No wonder he wasn’t interested in someone like her. He probably thought she was tarnished goods. Used up. No good.
And he was right.
Gina liked nightclubs. She liked sex. She didn’t really like one-night stands, but she’d had more than her fair share of boyfriends over the years.
She liked giving blow jobs in the sunlight.
And she was proud of it.
There was nothing wrong with companionship—and orgasms—to blow off some steam. And if Finn wanted to judge her for it, then the good father could go straight to hell.
Even if he did look like an angel…and feel like a demon when he was pressed up against her. If she concentrated, she could still feel the way he’d throbbed against her, promising a thousand pleasures he could never deliver on.
After all, he’d made vows.
He believed in things like self-respect and loving, long-term relationships.
“This is a bad idea,” Finn said. “You don’t need to dance…somewhere like that. We can find a better way.”
Gina flipped down the visor, putting on lipstick in the dim light of the vanity mirror. When she was done, she smacked her lips together and dropped the makeup back into her purse. Her hands ran through her hair, fluffing up her curls, and she shimmied under her T-shirt so that the low neckline skimmed her curves. “It’s not some den of iniquity. It’s a strip club.”
“My old boss would say they’re the same thing.”
“Do you know somewhere else people are going to just hand us money?” Gina asked.
The strip club wouldn’t be her first choice—hell, it wouldn’t be her hundredth choice—but they didn’t have any options left. As long as no one tried to pull her into a VIP room, she’d be fine. She could do this.
Probably.
The truck rattled over rough concrete as they pulled off the highway and onto a county-maintained road. Finn stopped the car in the strip club’s parking lot, as far from the entrance as he could get without being somewhere else entirely. “You shouldn’t have to do this. I can pawn the stuff. My watch—we’ll get gas money for Chicago that way.”
“It’s not just about gas money. I want to sleep in a real bed tonight, on a mattress with springs. Tomorrow, I want to wake up and buy the fanciest, foamiest coffee drink this side of the Mississippi.” Gina glanced around the crowded parking lot. “It won’t take much. Hell, I can probably get what I need in one dance.”
“You’re that good?”
“Better.” She might not be a doctor, saving the lives of orphan children in third-world countries, but when it came to giving horny men a good show, she was one of the best.
And if the idea of someone touching her onstage gave her chills? Better not to think about it.
Finn’s face was pale. Under the flickering neon light from the strip club, he looked like he was going to be sick. “I’ll call my brother, get him to wire us some money.”
“And if the bad guys get alerted somehow?” She shook her head. “This is better, safer.”
His shoulders slumped forward in defeat. He might not like what she had to say, but he’d listened to every word. “I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want you to feel…” His fingers threaded their way through hers. “I don’t want you to feel like less than you are. Do you understand me?”
Gina swallowed hard. The kiss they’d shared the night before had been spontaneous and exciting. The moment she’d dropped to her knees in front of the concrete wall had been wild and hot.
But somehow, neither of those acts had been more intimate than simply feeling Finn’s long fingers tangle with hers.
“No one in that club can make me feel like less than who I am,” she finally said, choosing her words carefully. “I’m not ashamed to dance—I’m not even ashamed to take my clothes off. I’ve got a nice body, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“I’ve noticed—”
“The only person who could possibly make me feel less than whole is you.” She fidgeted for a moment, drawing her hand away from Finn’s and immediately regretting the decision when her fingers felt cold. “You don’t have to come inside if you don’t want to, Father Finn, but don’t try to tell me how I should live my life. Understand?”
“I’m beginning to.”
“Now, you can stay out here in the truck if you want. I’d understand.”
It was probably for the best.
The last thing she needed was to be up onstage worrying about what Finn was doing down in the pit. His eyes would be dark and disapproving. His lips would press together into that thin line she’d seen far too many times for her own peace of mind.
Detective Finn—whatever his first name was—was a good man, but sometimes, he made it damn hard to like him.
“That’s not happening.” His voice was harsh and forceful. He swallowed hard, gulping down air. “If you’re going to do this, then I’m going to watch you—just to make sure you’re all right.”
He ran his fingers through his hair, leaving his dark locks skewed and uneven. The tension in his body was a physical force, but he pushed open the driver’s door and stepped out onto the pavement with purpose and determination.
Gina sighed and followed him out into the parking lot, pausing to lean against the hood so she could put on her sky-high heels. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
Finn snorted. “That ship�
�s sailed, cupcake. I’m going to be uncomfortable whether I’m waiting in the truck or sitting in the audience. At least this way, I’ll know you’re safe. That’s the only thing that matters.”
Warmth tinged Gina’s cheeks. “It’ll be good to know there’s someone watching my back.” She fumbled in the dark trying to do up the catch on her sky-high heels.
“Here.” Finn bent down, kneeling in front of her to help her into the strappy shoes. His every motion was soft and delicate. The heat from his body made her want to moan in surprise, but she couldn’t find the words.
He wasn’t hers.
He was a priest—well, sort of. And even if he’d stopped being a man of the cloth, he still believed in waiting for the right person.
If only she’d met him when she was fourteen years old, before Timothy Williams and all the other boys whose names she couldn’t find the energy to remember.
Back when she still believed in things like true love and forever… Before she’d moved to Las Vegas and burned her bridges back in California.
“There.” Finn tugged on the last strap, making sure her shoe was on tight. “You’re good to go.”
“Right.” Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. “I’m going to go inside and speak to the guy in charge. This kind of place is always looking for new girls. The manager will probably let me up on the stage if I agree to give him a cut of my tips.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Don’t worry. I can be very convincing.”
Finn flinched as if she’d just struck him, but he didn’t say a word. “I’m coming in with you.”
Stubborn much? Gina rolled her eyes. “The guys aren’t going to tip well if they think you’re with me. Half of what I’m doing is selling a fantasy—if they catch my eye, if they do something right, then maybe I’ll pick them to take me home tonight. You understand? That doesn’t work if I walk in on the arm of some gorgeous hunk of man meat.”
“You think I’m gorgeous?”
“I’m not blind, Father Finn.”
“You shouldn’t call me that.”
Yes, she should. The title might not be exactly accurate, but it put some much-needed distance between them. It reminded Gina of exactly who he was and how much she had to lose by making another pass at him. She’d already done enough damage in the past few days. It was time to suck it up and go back to the regularly scheduled program, the one where she was a sinner and he was all saint.
