Blaze (Big D Escort Service Book 2)

by Willow Summers

  “Yeah, no. Sure, go.”

  “Okay, Dr. Seuss.”

  “Oh, by the way.” Noah watched her take the stairs two at a time.

  “Yeah?”

  “Madison is pissed at you over one of your paintings. Heads up.”

  Janie rolled her eyes. She was pretty sure what that was about. “Tell her to stick it up her hole.”

  Noah laughed. “Ten-four.”

  Up in her asylum, she closed the door behind her and threw the lock. The blank canvas waited. She had some emotions to purge.

  An indeterminate amount of time later, a knock jogged her out of her reverie. She blinked and looked away from the finished painting. Two others sat on easels beside it.

  She was usually a fairly speedy painter, but never before had coughed them out this fast. Not back to back without a pause in between for mental preparation. Paint covered her nice jeans and dotted her not-as-nice shirt.

  The knock sounded again.

  Frowning, she checked her phone on the stool. Four in the afternoon.

  Madison stood on the threshold with a firm expression. She pointed into the room.

  “Is this a mime show, or charades?” Janie braced a hand to her hip.

  “It is a what the hell is going on exposition.”

  “I’m pretty sure that doesn’t make sense.”

  “Are you having sex with Dave?” Madison crossed her arms. “Because you just got out of a long relationship. I don’t want to remind you that your rebounds never go well, and you usually end up doing something crazy.”

  “I’m not, no. He’s just really hot. But thank you for asking about my day. It’s so kind of you to care. It was okay. A little on the horrible side, though.”

  “So you’re not having sex with him?”

  “No. But I kind of want to. He has…some really great tools. If only I had some money.”

  “He always says he can’t give anything to a woman until he has less baggage. Today you found out what some of that baggage is. He won’t give you his heart, Janie. He’s a great guy, and he might try to, but he isn’t capable of it.” Madison held up her hands. “His words, not mine. You’re just getting back on your feet. You have a real good thing coming out of the rubble. I don’t want to see you get derailed.”

  “If I punch you in the face, and you don’t notice it because you are harping on about something that is irrelevant, will it still have happened?”

  “Really? Irrelevant?” She marched into the room and pointed at one of the paintings leaning against the wall, featuring the bare back of a woman who might or might not be Janie, riding an equally bare man who looked an awful lot like Dave. The woman was arched back in ecstasy. Her hair swung through the frame. The painting was intended to make the viewer think Dave—or the man who looked an awful lot like him—was mid-thrust. “This makes me feel like I am actually watching you guys screw. Which is gross, no matter how well you painted it.”

  “Some people get off on voyeurism.”

  “I do not.” She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. “When the subjects are friends.”

  Janie huffed out a laugh. “And now we know a little more about each other, don’t we?”

  “You already knew that.”

  Janie frowned. Had she?

  She shrugged. It didn’t really matter. “Truth?” Madison nodded and crossed her arms over her chest again. “I was blindsided by him in green briefs. He got hard. I got lady-hard. Since then, he’s been a sexual obsession. That’s where it ends. I haven’t touched him.”

  That was mostly true. Ish.

  Madison rolled her eyes and pointed at a different piece. “Sexual obsession, or are you falling blindly, hopelessly in love?”

  Janie leaned to the side so she could check out the painting in question. It was a beautiful woman staring out through a window. She had been thinking of titling it Daydream. “That’s not me.”

  “Uh huh.” Madison pointed at another. “Terrified of falling in love.” Another. “Hopeful to have finally found someone.” Another. “All of the freaking above, Janie. Those women might not be you, but they are the essence of you. And that one…” She pointed at the painting that was definitely Dave, completely nude, and very hard. “That one sums up the focus of these paintings, does it not? I’m not an art connoisseur, I’m a Janie connoisseur, and you are on dangerous ground.”

  Janie sighed and grabbed her phone. She needed to make a decision about the Hutchinsons. “Look, I told you. I’m good. I’m just spitting all this out to get it out of my system. I doubt he’ll care that yet another girl is obsessing over him. He’s got plenty.”

  “Exactly. He has plenty. You shouldn’t add to the list.”

  “How long until you get over it? Also, why are you home so early?”

  Madison rubbed her eyes, suddenly looking tired. “I’m home because I heard you were here. And I heard Dave took you along to sort out the situation with his mother. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Nope. I gotta go.” Janie hurried down the hall. Sooner rather than later, Madison would notice the giant painting right in front of her face. This one had a slightly different message—it was about doling out vengeance to a group of people harming the man she cared about. The scene was basically what a trailer park would look like on acid, but it was clear enough if you knew the real story.

  A moment later, she was jogging into the kitchen. Colton, Noah, and Ethan, concerned expressions on all, hushed as she drew near. They looked her way as one.

  “Number one,” Janie said, holding up a finger. “I’m not screwing Dave. Just in case everyone thinks it’s cool to go nosing around my paintings. It’s a poor man’s version of hiring a prostitute, okay? Don’t tell him. It’ll be embarrassing for me. Number two, stop nosing around my paintings.” A smile slid up Ethan’s face. “Number three, I need Noah and Ethan’s help. Do you guys have some time right now? I’ll make it worth your while.”

  Unless they didn’t like ice cream or margaritas. In which case, bully for them.

  The glances they exchanged hinted that they thought she was crazy.

  “No, then?” She about-faced and headed for the door.

  “Hey, wait.” Noah was jogging with her a moment later. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m going to help Dave.”

  “Is this happening?” Ethan called from farther down the hallway.

  “Yup.” Noah made a circle in the air with his finger. “Load up.”

  Well, that was easy, Janie thought as she headed out of the house. Now for the hard part.

  Thirteen

  The boys had a lot of questions on the way over. Why Colton couldn’t come was one of the first. That was put to rest when they noticed Madison running behind the car, yelling at Janie to pull over. The questions only intensified after that.

  “Right.” Janie reached over Noah’s lap and pulled Betty’s revolver out of the glove box. It wasn’t a great place to put it, as evidenced by the way Noah jolted away, but she hadn’t had many options. “Now shit gets real.”

  “Whoa.” Ethan put his hands on the front seats, leaning forward from the back seat. “What?”

  Janie laid the gun in her lap and crawled through the trailer park, her car fitting in perfectly. They wouldn’t know who she was, and they wouldn’t suspect what she was about to do.

  “Here’s how this is going to go down—”

  “Is it too late to back out?” Ethan asked.

  “Ethan.” She clicked off her lights. Semidarkness fell around them. Soon it would be full night. “I am about to give you a horrible surprise. It’ll be worse than the snake I wasn’t concerned about, and it’ll make those nipple clamps look like a good gift. You’re welcome.”

  “I now see why everyone hates my surprises.” Ethan looked out the side window. “The anticipation is the worst part.”

  Really? Had no one paid the horrible surprises back in full before?

  Janie crawled forward, stopping a few trailers down
. “Okay. Here’s how it is going to go. I’m the mouth. I go in with bravado and fuck-you. I get things done crazy style. You guys are the muscle. You stand around, acting important. Got it?”

  “No.” Ethan ducked to get a better look at the trailer she had parked in front of.

  “Do you know what you’re doing, Janie?” Noah asked softly, his eyes rooted to hers.

  She felt bad for him. He was such a good, steadfast guy. Wanting to help his friends in any way possible. The only problem was, he’d clearly grown up middle class or better. He had no idea of how the dredges of society got things done. Because this wasn’t the type of situation cops could help fix.

  “Yes.” She pushed the door open and stepped out.

  “The actual surprise is always good, though.” Ethan did the same and then quietly shut the door behind him. “So I should count on that.”

  “What the hell is good about clipping something on your nipples that is horribly painful?” Janie whispered.

  “Now you know you aren’t into it.” He lounged against the car. They were about to threaten someone, and he was lounging. The man was truly crazy. No two ways about it.

  “I already knew I wasn’t into it,” she grumbled.

  “Did you?”

  No, she hadn’t. Not with proof. The jerk.

  “Noah, you can stay in the car.” She adjusted the gun.

  He got out and softly shut his door, his expression saying he would really like to take her up on that offer. “No. I’m good.”

  “Why are we doing this without Dave?” Ethan asked.

  “Because Dave follows rules. He won’t do what needs to be done to protect his mom. Because rehab and moving won’t mean much if this crowd wants to ruin her life. They’ll go after her. Once a dealer or pusher senses weakness, they exploit it. Add a jealous cow to the recipe and you can see the problem.” She started walking, glancing at the places around them. “You don’t know my past, or the lengths I’ll go to help a friend. Long story short, if you mess with my friend, it is worse than messing with me. I do not tolerate it. This bitch”—she gestured at the trailer two doors down—“is up in my business. She, and maybe her husband, are pissing on my parade. You either take it, or you end it. I intend to end it.”

  “I don’t know what’s about to happen, but I love your rage.” Ethan nodded.

  “I know how to shoot a gun, Janie. Do you?” Noah clearly didn’t want to learn that answer the hard way.

  “My lack of experience is what seals the deal.” She patted the revolver tucked into her belt loop. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was necessary. She’d learned that growing up.

  Light glowed in a strip in the front window. She trudged across the weeds and stood close, trying to get a glimpse of what she was walking into. Movement interrupted her line of sight. Something fuzzy in the shape of a head. Since all the trailers probably had the same layout, it looked like someone was in the living room.

  “Here we go.” Janie hurried to the front door and gingerly tried the handle. Adrenaline raged through her blood, pounding in her ears. It had been a long time since she’d run around carrying a gun she wasn’t totally sure how to use. She’d hated those days. That life.

  Dave was worth returning to it for one night. Hell, he was worth ending up in jail for. He’d stood up for her, and she was going to do the same for him.

  The handle turned slowly. Not locked. They weren’t worried about crime in the area.

  She jerked it the rest of the way and shoved. The door swung open before banging against the side of the trailer. An older woman with stringy, wispy hair startled on the couch and reached for her chest. Thankfully, her first instinct wasn’t to go for a gun. Better and better.

  Jane pointed toward the kitchen. “Guys, go make sure no one is going to jump out with a shotgun.”

  “I am not entirely comfortable with this, Janie,” Noah muttered as he rushed to follow her directions.

  “I was wrong. The anticipation was not the worst part of the surprise.” Ethan divided the distance between the retreating Noah and Janie, ready to help whichever of them needed it. “That would be prison.”

  Janie ignored him. She pointed at the round-eyed woman dressed in something resembling a sheet. “Are you Nora?”

  The woman swallowed. “Who are you? What do you want? I don’t have any money.”

  “Are you Nora?” Janie walked toward her while pulling out the gun.

  The woman’s gaze found it immediately. Her eyes widened even more and the color drained from her face.

  “I won’t ask you again.” Janie sat next to her as though she’d been invited for tea. In the movies, that move always seemed to inspire fear. She hoped those screenwriters had done their homework.

  “Y-yes,” Nora said, shifting away.

  “Do you recognize this?” Janie pointed the gun past Nora’s face. If it accidentally went off, it wouldn’t kill anyone. Despite the strong-arm tactics, Janie really didn’t want to go to prison. She also didn’t want to actually hurt anyone.

  Nora shook her head. Her second chin wobbled like a turkey’s.

  “No?” Janie stroked the trigger lightly. “You don’t know where Betty got this?”

  Understanding dawned on Nora’s face. Fear immediately followed. She hadn’t recognized the gun at first, which told Janie two things. The first was that she probably hadn’t been the one to buy it. She clearly didn’t have an intimate knowledge of weapons. The second was that she was about as sharp as a marble. “Betty is a liar. And a thief. She’s always stealing my pills!”

  Anger pumped through Janie’s middle. She could see the lie in the woman’s eyes. The glint of malice. This chick did not like Betty. Petty jealousy of some sort, if Janie had to guess. It had blinded Nora to how ardently she’d crossed the line with that gun, which had surely been purchased legally. These people weren’t hard-core enough to get a gun on the black market.

  Chatting to Nora wouldn’t accomplish anything. She’d clearly go to great lengths to take out a perceived enemy. Janie had to find the brains of this operation and hope he had some sway over this woman.

  “I don’t believe you, Nora.” Janie got up, crossed the room, and closed the door. She threw the lock. “Keep her put,” she said to Ethan.

  Past the kitchen, she found Noah standing in the doorway of the bedroom. A man sat on the bed in boxers and a shirt, his hands up. It looked like Noah’s big guns, a.k.a. his arms, were the only weapons he needed.

  “Are you Sam?” Janie patted Noah’s shoulder so he would move enough to let her slip by.

  “We woke him up,” Noah muttered.

  “Please don’t hurt me,” the man said.

  Janie glanced at the nightstand, spotting a pill container. She read the label. Sleep meds for Sam.

  “Do you sell these?” she demanded, picking the bottle up and shaking it.

  “Take it. I can get more. I can get whatever you want.”

  “Yeah. That’s the problem.” She returned the orange container to its spot. “Where’s your stash?”

  He flung a shaking finger at a suitcase in the corner.

  Janie groaned as she lifted the lid. Organized and in neat rows, here was everything a pill popper needed for a good time, or to feed a serious addiction.

  “I want the card of your supplier. You’re too old and scared to work with a dealer. I want the doctor’s name.” Janie slammed the lid shut.

  “I don’t deal directly with—”

  “Give me his name,” Janie shouted, holding up the gun. “Now!”

  “Okay! Okay!” A younger person would’ve needed more prodding. Sam shifted, rose painfully, and shuffled to a little cabinet on the dresser. He rifled through it, moved a wad of money to the side, and pulled out a Post-it note. He held it out in a shaking hand.

  “Don’t have any money, my butt,” Janie muttered as she grabbed the note. She thought about shoving him out of the way, since that was what they did in the movies, but he’d probably break
a hip and the whole situation would take a turn for the worse. It was already bad enough. Instead, she shouted at him to move, took his place, and grabbed the wad of cash.

  She shook her head. “Sam, listen up.” She backed him up toward the bed, until he was forced to sit on it, then tossed the wad of cash between them. “We both know what’s going on here. We both know that if I took that”—she nodded toward the cash—“and you couldn’t pay for that suitcase over there, you’d be in a world of trouble.”

  He hands grabbed the edge of the bed.

  “We also know that a quick call to the cops right now, and your life is over. You wouldn’t be able to get out of here in time to save your ass.” Janie gave him a moment to let that sink in. “So here’s how it’s going to go. I’m going to leave you alone. You can keep that cash, and you can keep that suitcase.”

  He stared at her with watery eyes. He really was too old to be engaging in pill-dealing shenanigans.

  “You’re wondering what the catch is, aren’t you?” He didn’t quite stop himself from nodding. “Betty is dead to you.”

  A frown worked into his brow. His eyes flashed anger.

  “She’s got that rich son, I know. She’s got that allowance that needs spending. All she has to do is put out her hand, and her son fills it with cash. She, in turn, lines your pockets. Easy pickings, right?” Janie smiled at him. A manic, crazy smile that turned his anger back into fear. It was funny how good she was at scaring people with her crazy. “Not anymore. She is under my protection. We both know I could end you, Sam. With the money, with your supplier, with the cops—I have so many options. I mean, I know where you live, Sam. And this?” She hefted the gun.

  “Where did you get that?” he struggled to say. Clearly he was intimate with the firearm.

  “Uh oh. It looks like Nora is keeping secrets from you. She gave this to Betty so Betty would off herself.” Confusion crossed his face. Then anger. “Yeah. Your dear, sweet Nora was trying to put an end to the source of all that money because of personal reasons. No one told her that business isn’t personal, I guess. But that’s neither here nor there. If this gun were to kill someone, then the legal owner would be questioned. If the legal owner—someone from this trailer, I’m guessing—also had a suitcase of pills and a wad of cash lying around…well, that doesn’t look good, huh, Sam? You’re smart enough to know all this, right? She might have scratched off the serial number, but they can still trace the gun if they get an anonymous tip…”