by Joya Ryan
“I know,” I said louder. “That’s why I’m trying to get out of here.”
“And how’s that going for you? It took me five minutes to find you last night. You’re easy to follow, you have no plan, and now you’re putting people I care about in danger.”
“I get it,” I growled. And I did. Hence the reason I was trying to leave. Adam, Kate, Preston and Megan were my only friends. My only family, actually. I didn’t want to bring this on them. Not to mention, they’ve all had enough scandal to last a lifetime, they didn’t need more.
If they knew what shit I had stored in my baggage? No way.
Rhys took one step toward me. His blond hair framing his face, and his eyes were bright, like the sky after a fresh rainfall. The man probably never feared a single thing in his life.
“I’ve tried being patient. But here’s how this is going to go. Either you tell me what the hell is going on so I can help you, or I’m calling your brother and carting your ass back to Chicago so he can deal with you.”
“No!” All my anger rose and before I could stop them, words rushed out. Fighting words that would hopefully make him go away. Far away. From me. “Are you still pissed because I stood you up and used you for a one-nighter? Get over it.”
His expression turned deadly and he gritted his teeth. “There are two people in the world I love. Preston is one of them. And he’s really fucking happy right now because of Megan. A woman you are putting in danger because of your cowardice.”
“I’m not a coward. I’m trying to protect them too.”
“Oh yeah? The first thing about being a smart fighter is knowing when to tap out. Too much pride will get you or someone else hurt.”
The way his eyes flashed with so much pain, like he’d experienced this firsthand, made something in my chest ache for him. The man was bitching me out and I stood there wanting to hug him.
I looked around the messed-up apartment. God, what if Megan had been here? No, I couldn’t think of that. Because I knew exactly what kind of man Mase was. A dangerous man.
That empty pit in my stomach I’d carried around since childhood was throbbing. It was the same pit I had become a pro at covering up with false ideas of hope and human interaction being more than just an exchange of goods. Reminding me that the emptiness was still very much alive and I was still the same girl I always was. Trash. Running from her past.
But this time, I wouldn’t take those I cared about down with me.
I met Rhys’s stare and knew a man like this would never be weak. Never surrender. Never be in this position. I cared about the few people I had in this world more than myself. And staying away from them was the best thing I could do. And Rhys was my best bet to achieve that. The only one left.
“Rhys . . . I need help.”
I let out breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Standing there, amidst the ruins of my life crumbling around me, I waited. Rhys’s expression shifted.
“Okay, Emma.” He walked toward me but stopped before actual contact, which, for whatever reason, I was really wanting some of. I’d never been a big hugger or emotional kind of girl. But right now, a little bit of that bliss I had had with Rhys the other night sounded like perfection.
“I’ll help you,” he assured. “But we do this my way.”
I looked up at him. “Adam can’t know. Neither can Megan or Preston. No one can.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Ah, you want something in return.” Should have known.
“What?” He frowned. “No. I mean, you start by telling me everything. And you have to remain honest and listen to me. Understand?”
I nodded. Half hating this weird surrender of some control, and half liking it because with it came half the burden.
I took a deep breath and spoke quickly before I changed my mind. “Ten years ago I testified against this small-time drug lord, Castor James, and it put him in prison. He’s up for parole, the hearing is in three weeks and I’m due to speak on the state’s behalf to keep him locked up. His brother Mase is the one after me.”
“And Mase is the one who slipped you something last night and did this to your apartment?” Rhys glanced around.
“Yeah. He found me in Chicago, which is why I came here in the first place, but he found me again.”
“How?” Rhys asked.
I lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. But if I can stay away from him until I get to the trial and keep Castor locked up, everything will be fine.”
“We still need to find this guy who’s after you.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been on my own till now and I’ve just been trying to stay hidden and alive long enough to make the hearing. Without hurting those around me,” I added for good measure. “I know that Mase has a warrant for his arrest, so I’m hoping the police will eventually catch him.”
“You’re operating with a lot of hopes and ifs,” Rhys said.
“That’s because I don’t have a hell of a lot more to operate with.”
He scanned my face, staying silent for a long moment. Finally, he moved on as asked, “Castor, how did you get mixed up with him?”
Never losing my nerve, I said, “He was my master.” When Rhys’s face reflected what I assumed was moderate shock, I finished with, “Ironic, since I’ve never done drugs.”
“What do you mean, your master?”
This was the part I always hated the most. “He saw me, picked me up and I had to do what he said or else get beaten.”
Rhys’s eyes were the widest I’d ever seen them. “I’d love for you to elaborate right now.”
Another deep breath. I’d never spoken of any of this out loud and had a feeling that this conversation wasn’t close to over. But telling it this way, like a story, felt like I was explaining someone else’s life instead of my own. Allowed for some disconnect, which was helpful, and it was the only reason that talking about this didn’t make me want to cry or anything.
“I grew up on the streets, bounced in and out of group homes. That’s how I ended up meeting Adam. But one of the times I was out and back on the homeless block, Castor decided I was to be his woman, slave — or whatever.”
I shook my head because I never did come up with a good term to call that situation or to call myself. But all I did know was that I never really had a choice.
“How did he decide this?” Rhys asked, a vicious undertone to his voice.
“I was hanging out by the lake, scrounging for money. Castor merely pointed at me and told his brother, I want that one. He got me a roof and food and I was basically his slave.”
“How old were you?”
“Fifteen.”
Rhys muttered something that sounded like the lord’s name and looked around the apartment. He was so calm, his face inscrutable, as if trying not to show emotion, but the twitch in his jaw showed that he was struggling. Which I kind of appreciated. Pity wasn’t something I wanted.
“How did this end?”
“It was a deal gone bad. Castor was caught, Mase got away.”
“And you?”
“What do you mean?”
“What happened to you, Emma?” He asked like he was genuinely interested in how this story ended.
“Adam was the only one who kept track of me,” I said, hoping that he wouldn’t push for more details.
Adam was there at the hospital when I woke up from the stabbing and stood by me throughout the indictment of Castor. These were memories I didn’t really want to relive, so I moved on quickly before Rhys could ask more questions.
“Adam made his money and took care of me. I went to college and the rest is as you see it.” I said, opening my arms.
After a roofied night, having no money and standing in a desecrated apartment, I felt like I was back at square one. Which meant that I needed to start thinking like Street Emma.
“Everybody wants something, Rhys.” I looked at him, because as long as I was being truthful, it was his turn to dish. “You wan
t to help me? What are you charging?”
“Nothing. I just want you to be safe.”
“Bullshit, nothing is free.”
“Adam helped you,” he countered.
“Yeah, and Adam wanted something in return.”
I had to go to school, clean up, behave, and yes, he did care, but he was overbearing and in my business all the time. It came from a good place, I knew that. Knew he loved me. And I loved him, which was why I was trying to stay away from him and the life he’s built. He’s finally happy, an honest kind of happy, and he’s letting go of his past, which was more brutal than mine in some ways. I didn’t want him to have to deal with me anymore.
“Like I said, I want your trust and compliance.”
“You ask all this of me, what is your plan, big guy?”
“You want to make it to the trial and keep yourself safe, I think that’s smart. But I also think that Mase won’t stop and needs to be caught. Drawing him out so the police can obtain him is a strategy we should consider. In the mean time, I’ll keep your secrets, but you’ll have to stay with me. I’m going upstate today, there’re some family issues I need to deal with. It’s a good place to lie low for a few weeks.”
“And I just come with you?”
He shrugged. “It’s either that or I can call Adam and you can talk with him about your next step.”
I wanted to argue that I could take care of myself. But presently I didn’t have the means to do that. Rhys was my best option. I still wasn’t convinced he didn’t have an angle, though.
“What about sex?”
“What about it?”
“Will we be having any?”
That didn’t even get a grin from him. “This isn’t a trade, Emma. I’m offering my help, that is it. Under these circumstances, it’s probably best to remain platonic.”
“Wow.” I crossed my arms. “You’re sexy when you’re all doom and gloom.”
“And you’re mouthy.” That time there was just a hint of a grin.
I wanted to push for more. To ask if he liked the time we were together. Seeing as how we hadn’t talked about it — mostly because I took off before we could. But I didn’t ask. Because right then, it didn’t matter.
That one night was amazing, but it was over. I wasn’t stupid enough to believe there could ever be more between us than a couple nights with no strings. So long as I kept my brain and remembered that no one, not even Captain America over there, did things out of the goodness of their heart without some kind of agenda, there was no reason sex couldn’t be a part of this deal.
He was talking about being together for three weeks.
Three platonic weeks. Yeah, I didn’t see that happening. There were two things men caved for: sex and money. Since I didn’t have money and Rhys already had plenty of it, looked like the second option was best. And it was the fastest way to find out his agenda. His real reason behind this “save the street-girl” endeavor.
“I’m still not buying your noble intentions,” I informed him.
If Rhys had been the kind of man to roll his eyes, he probably would have right then. “Fine. You want me to gain something from this? I’ll tell you what, in exchange for me helping you, you can help me settle some real estate issues up north.”
“What does that entail?”
He glanced down the front of me. “Nothing you can’t handle.”
For some reason, the fact that it felt like an exchange and not a handout made me feel better and worse at the same time.
“I agree.”
“Great,” he said sarcastically.
Rhys picked up the bag I had attempting to re-pack and put the last few strewn-around things that had been thrown from it back in.
“I’ll take care of reporting this break-in once we’re on the road.” I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off. “And no, it will have nothing to do with you. I was checking in on my friend’s apartment and found it like this. You were already out of town. Right?”
I smiled and nodded. “Right.”
He gave a curt nod. “I don’t know how much technology this Mase guy has, but to be on the safe side, we need to dump your cell. You’re electronically off the grid as of now.”
“Okay.” I pulled my cell out of my back pocket and handed it to him. Though I wasn’t crazy about giving up my phone or access to Candy Crush, Rhys was right, it was a good idea.
“Anything else you want to bring?” he asked, holding the bag.
I bent down and picked up a pair of slinky black panties that had been tossed from the bag and stuffed them back in.
“I think that’s it.”
Rhys’s eyes lingered on the garment I’d just added, then he cleared his throat and zipped up the bag.
“Let’s get out of here, then.”
I followed him, a small smile creeping over my face.
Platonic my ass.
Chapter Five
“I thought you said I was going to help with real estate?” I asked as Rhys opened a screeching wooden door to a small cabin in the middle of butt-ass-nowhere.
I had dozed off on the drive up and when he pulled in front of this gem, I realized there was nothing around but trees and lapping water from the nearby lake.
“Yes. You’re going to help me fix this up and make it ready to sell.”
“Manual labor? Awesome.”
It was cute. Rustic, even. An authentic-looking cabin made of logs. It had an open floor plan — a small table sat near the kitchenette while the far back wall had a floor-to-ceiling stone hearth complete with a fireplace. A plush leather couch and area rug faced it. There were two doors off to the right, which I assumed led to a bedroom and bathroom.
He walked to one of the doors, opened it, and set my bag down inside. Yep, bedroom. He turned around and put his pack next to the couch.
“Where are we, anyway?”
“Saranac Lake. This is my father’s old hunting lodge.”
“Won’t he be upset you’re trying to sell it?”
“He died a few years ago.”
Rhys walked to the kitchenette — a wall of cabinets beside a sink, stove and small fridge — and put some water in the kettle.
“Sorry,” I offered.
He shrugged. “I’ve stayed here on and off, whenever I needed to get away, but it’s time to sell it. In the meantime, it will be good for your situation and no one will be able to find you here.”
“Are you leaving me alone?”
He looked over his shoulder and if I hadn’t known better I would have thought I saw him smile. “Would you like me to?”
I wanted a quick comeback, but was rendered speechless. Clever man. He was seeing just how much I’d cop to. See if I admitted I wanted him. Fine. I could play this game too.
I walked over to him just as he set the kettle on the burner.
“Yes, I would like you to stay.” I plastered my breasts against his back and his sharp intake of breath meant that he felt me. Reaching around, I gripped his cock through his pants. “I’d be happy to fuck you again. Just as long as you don’t get attached.”
I released him and walk away.
“How do you do this?” he asked and turned to face me.
“Do what?”
“This.” He gestured to my entire body. “How can you stand there and pretend that this situation isn’t messed up? Act like you’re not affected by the fact that some asshole is after you? Just roofied you last night.” He paused and looked me in the eyes. “And how can you pretend that it was just a fuck between us and you didn’t feel more?”
That last question rendered me momentarily mute. Rhys read me better than I had anticipated. Keeping this surface was going to be harder than I thought, especially because he was right. There was something between us. But I’d never admit that to him. Way too much power would be handed over with such an admission. I did miss his skin, his smell, the way he took me over, body and mind. Shaking my head slightly, I decided to address only one of his questi
ons.
“Oh, I know this situation is messed up,” I said, leaning against the small table by the window. “But I’m not going to cry or freak out about it.”
Beautiful thing about my self-preservation system was that as long as I could disconnect enough, pretend that any situation I was in could be easily dealt with, I was fine. Think too much about something and yeah, it’d probably end up scaring me into making a dangerous mistake.
“You asked me before what my angle is. What’s yours, Emma?”
“To stay alive, testify and move on with life.”
Simple. Easy. Minimal thinking, therefore minimal freaking out.
“So how does throwing yourself at me fit in to your plan?”
“Throwing myself?” I laughed. “Oh man. I just thought screwing would be a good way to pass the time. Not everything is some big explanation waiting to happen.” It almost felt like World’s Worst Liar just got stamped on my forehead.
“See, that’s where we differ. Because like it or not, Emma, I saw you.” He took a step toward me. “That night we first met, there was a grace about you. Something slightly timid like you couldn’t figure out if I was dangerous or — ”
“Douchey?”
Now he grinned. “I was going to say desirable. I saw it on your face. Saw it again the other night when you showed up at the hotel.” Another step. “And again when I was deep inside of you, right before you came.”
My mouth went dry, but he just pressed on.
“Play this game all you want. Act tough. Pretend it’s just sex between us, but you like me, Emma. And that scares the shit out of you.”
As if my body had no choice but to react to his words, it trembled on cue and I bit the inside of my lip to keep from admitting out loud that he was right.
Finding all the brass and sarcasm I could, I said, “Are you a psychologist in your spare time?”
“No, just telling you what I see.”
“Well do me a favor and tell yourself to shut up.”
He raised a brow. “I can prove it. Prove that you want me. That you like me.”
“I already said I’d fuck you.”
“And I told you that there’s more between us and you know it. You need me in the kind of way that has you dizzy from thinking of nothing else.” His voice was so deep it could be considered a lethal weapon of seduction. “Anyone can fuck, Emma, but I think you want me in a whole different way.”
