by West, Naomi
“Good move. Public schools suck. Trust me. First time I ever got stabbed was at school.”
Her eyes widened. Having her worst fears confirmed made her body go cold. “But the problem is, it’s just me. The school is expensive. We have a tiny place, but it still costs a lot. I work two jobs as it is, and it’s all I can do to pay the bills and feed him. I was managing okay, but then my car broke down and I had to get it fixed. I got a little behind, then I got a lot behind and…”
“You had to do something extreme to pay for it all.”
“Yeah. There was no way I’d be able to work enough to pay what I owe. Tonight would have paid the balance that’s past due, plus cover the rest of the school year. It’s a huge blessing, actually, and I feel like the biggest idiot.”
The tears started all over again. She was being stupid. She could sleep with him. She had to. Ian couldn’t be made to suffer because she had some hang up, thinking she was better than this. She wasn’t. She was a single mom who had to do whatever it took to pay the bills and give her son a good life. And this was what it took. Simple as that.
“Don’t feel like that,” he said. “I know what it’s like. My mom was a single mom. There was me and my brother. We went to public school and we ended up as complete hoodlums. He was killed when I was sixteen and he was nineteen. He’d dropped out of school and was selling drugs to help my mom pay the bills. I was running around stealing clothes and breaking into cars, in and out of juvie. It sent her to an early grave, too. Somehow, I escaped all that. I guess. I mean, what I do now, it’s not much better, really. So maybe I didn’t.”
She thought about that for a moment. Was that the kind of life she would force Ian into if she couldn’t keep him in his school? Would he end up running with those bad kids, doing things like that, too, because she couldn’t buy him nice things and give him a good education?
“It’s a good thing, what you’re doing,” he said. “I mean, not this the whole thing right now, but how you put him in that school. That’s a good thing. Those kids always turn out much better. Wish I’d had that opportunity. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it someday.”
“I hope so. It’s just hard. I don’t want him to be lacking. Sometimes I think I should take him out of there. I could afford to buy him nicer things if I didn’t have that payment. He gets picked on sometimes for having old shoes and hand me downs. His pants are too short because he keeps outgrowing them.” Her voice broke when she said it, thinking of her sweet little boy and how mean those kids were to him just for being poor.
“No, he’s far better off where he is. Kids get picked on no matter what. The rich kids probably take shit for not having enough cars or buying the wrong Rolex, who knows. Not being good looking enough or something they can’t buy. He’ll get picked on anywhere. But at least those kids won’t stab him and steal his shoes. They won’t recruit him into selling drugs. He probably won’t even get into fist fights. I came home almost every day with a bloody nose or black eye. The teachers didn’t even try to break up the fights half the time. They just sent us out in the hall to take care of things.”
“That’s awful.”
“So keep him in that school. Trust me. Do whatever you have to do.”
Did he include himself in that? Did he mean she better come out there and have sex with him or she was a terrible mother?
“Look,” he said. “I want to screw. But I’m not going to do it with someone who’s afraid of me or doesn’t want to. I’m beat, though. I’m going to jack off and go to sleep. Unless you’ve changed your mind.”
Her hand flitted toward the door. She should. She should climb back into his bed with him and let him do her. She closed her eyes and tried to picture it. Tried to picture letting him take her clothes off, letting him push her legs open, letting him enter her. Fresh tears came to her eyes. She blinked and they spilled down her cheeks.
“Okay,” he said.
She heard him moving around. Standing up maybe? Then light footsteps and a door closing. He’d gone back to his room. He was going to leave her alone and not make her have sex with him. He was a good guy then. He understood what she was going through.
She laid down on the bed. How in the world would she pay for school now? Her stomach balled up in a knot. Maybe Carter. If he was really running those horrible auctions, then he could afford to help cover the cost of his nephew’s schooling. Not like he’d been any sort of decent uncle to Ian. He could do his part. And if he wouldn’t, well then, maybe she’d play hard ball. Maybe she would just threaten to call the police and tell them about his little auction escapades. Maybe that would freak him out enough to give her the money.
Her eyes burned from crying and fatigue and she closed them, letting her mind settle on some small amount of relief in knowing that she at least had a plan. Maybe not a great one, but it was something.
Chapter Seven
Sara blinked several times in the morning light. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep. What time was it? She groped around, but her purse with her phone in it was downstairs where she’d left it last night when they’d come upstairs. She rubbed her eyes and let her vision focus. She had to get Ian to school. She had to get to work.
She stood and stretched, then opened the door quietly. She snuck downstairs and went right to the kitchen. It was still early. She had time. But how would she get home? Wake up Saxton and have him drive her? She chewed on lip, thinking, then turned to find her purse.
Saxton sat on the couch, sipping coffee. She jumped and let out a shriek.
“Morning,” he said, chuckling.
“Morning,” she said, guilt returning and flooding over her. She’d ruined his night, too. Would he be able to get back his two grand from the club? Probably not. On top of everything else, she now felt like she should pay him back for that. But she’d never be able to. Maybe when she called Carter, she could work that in. Get Saxton his money back.
“There’s coffee,” he said.
He pointed behind her and when she turned, she saw the half full pot. She must be so used to smelling coffee working at two restaurants, that she hadn’t even registered the smell when she came down.
“Sleep okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, it was okay. You?”
He shrugged.
“I’m sorry about last night, I—”
He held up a hand. “Enough said. I’m not mad. Disappointed maybe, but not mad.” He winked at her and her face went warm.
He was just as gorgeous first thing in the morning. Maybe even more so with sleepy eyes and rumpled clothing. Under any other circumstance, she’d be thrilled he wanted her. Just not when it involved him paying her for it.
“I’ll call a cab for you,” he said, picking up his phone. “I need to head out.”
“Oh, okay.” She stood awkwardly at the edge of the kitchen while he called. She wondered if he would pay for the cab. She sure didn’t have money to cover it. But she couldn’t ask him to do that. Not on top of everything else. What would happen if she couldn’t pay? Maybe her neighbor could loan her some cash until payday. How far away was she?
He stood up and walked over to her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick wad of cash. “Here.” He handed it to her.
She gaped at him. “What’s this?”
“The eight grand I owe you.”
“No.” She shook her head. “You paid for—and you didn’t get—”
“I paid for a night with you, and that’s what I got.”
She looked at the money. God, how she needed it. But there was no way. “I can’t accept that. Not after how I behaved.”
He stuck out his hand to grab her purse, opened it, and shoved the money inside. Then he reached for his wallet. He opened it and pulled out two twenties. “That should cover the cab.”
Tears sprung to her eyes again. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I want to. Take care of your son. Keep him in that good school. Don’t let him end up like me, running scams for
a living and having to buy sex because I can’t handle being in a relationship.”
She stared down at the floor. How could he do this? She wasn’t worthy, and she could never repay him. She should have sex with him right now. “You seem like you’d make a good boyfriend.”
He harrumphed. “Wish that were true, but my many exes disagree with you.”
“I don’t see how they could.” She met his eyes and blinked away her tears. “Thank you.”
She leaned forward and pushed up on her toes to kiss him. He kissed back, pressing his lips against hers. This kiss felt much nicer than their kisses last night. Maybe because she’d started it? But instead of pressure and obligation, this kiss was filled with guilt and regret. She should have slept with him.
Outside, a car honked.
“Cab,” he said.
She turned to leave.
“Hey,” he said.
She stopped and turned back around. He held her purse out to her.
She grabbed it and kissed him again. “Thank you. Thank you.”
Outside, the cab waited in the driveway. She opened the door, climbed in, and gave the driver her address. As the car pulled away, she stared up at Saxton’s house in awe. Who was this guy? Why had he treated her so good when she didn’t deserve any of it?
The cab stopped in front of her house fifteen minutes later and she handed the driver the two twenties. It had been enough to cover the bill, plus the tip. She dashed inside and up the stairs to her floor. She knocked on the door of Patty’s apartment and a minute later, she heard small feet pounding, then the door flew open.
“Mommy!” Ian jumped into her arms. “We played Sorryfour times last night!”
“That’s great.”
Patty walked into the living room wearing a thin nightgown over her plump frame, shaking her head. “And he beat me every time.”
“You look so pretty, Mommy.”
“Thank you.” Oh, why hadn’t she changed first? “I had a very fancy dinner last night.”
Patty smiled and nodded. She assumed that her date had gone so well she’d slept with him. If she knew the truth, what would she think of her? Would she be ashamed to live beside such a woman? Would she think she was a bad mother?
“Thank you so much, Patty.”
She waved off the thank you. “My pleasure. Glad you had a good time.”
Sara forced a smile. “I did.” Well, if nothing else, she’d made a ton of money last night for doing little more than talking to Saxton and giving up her dignity.
She took Ian next door to their apartment. “Okay kiddo, go get dressed so I can take you to school.”
Sara took a fast shower and dressed in her uniform. She wished she’d drank some coffee at Saxton’s. The fatigue settled in her bones. It was going to be a long day. But she could get coffee at work. Lots of it.
When she was dressed, she reached for her purse. The edge of the wad of bills stuck out. She pulled it out, made sure Ian was busy eating his cereal, and counted the money. All eight thousand was there, in hundred dollar bills. She’d never held so much money. It looked like a lot. A stack of large bills, all hers. Well, Saxton’s.
The guilt washed over her again. Ian wasn’t his responsibility. He shouldn’t have given her this money. And she had no way to pay it back. She could never afford to give him all ten grand. It’d take her fifty years to save that up. She didn’t even have his address to write him a thank you note. And she didn’t think the club would have it. She hadn’t seen him give out any personal info, and why in the world would they keep files like that? Besides, she wanted to be nowhere near that warehouse ever again, even if it was just to collect information. She should have paid attention to his address when she was there.
“All done!” Ian came running into her room.
Sara quickly shoved the money back into her purse. She’d deposit it first thing to make sure nothing happened to it. She felt a little paranoid having so much cash. What if she was robbed or lost it somehow?
“Let’s go,” she said, and gave Ian a big kiss on the forehead.
They piled into the car and Sara secured her purse in the glove box, after making sure the money was safely tucked inside and her purse was zipped up. She dropped Ian off and rushed to the bank. This might make her a few minutes late for work, but she had no choice.
She hurried into the bank with her purse under her arm. At the small counter, she filed out a deposit slip and waited for a teller. When she approached the window, she set down the cash and slip and waited as the woman brought up her account info and counted the cash.
What would this woman think? If she could see any sort of account history, she would know that there was hardly ever more than a few hundred dollars in her account, and that she’d overdrawn it several times in the last year. The woman had to know she hadn’t just worked for it. Would she think she robbed someone? Or would she assume correctly, that Sara had sold herself?
The woman smiled at her. “Here’s your receipt. Have a nice day.”
Sara smiled back. There wasn’t a hint of judgment in the woman’s face. Maybe she was just used to strange money flow patterns in people’s accounts. Maybe she assumed Sara had a rich relative who died. That sounded like a good option. If anyone asked, that’s the lie she’d go with. Poor old Uncle Harris. Died of lung cancer, poor man. He’s in a better place now, and can you believe he left all his nieces and nephews money? What a guy.
“Thanks, Uncle Harris,” she muttered to herself as she backed out of her parking space and drove to work.
Chapter Eight
Saxton watched out the window as the cab drove off. He shook his head. What was he doing? He felt so hung up on this chick and he barely knew her. Was it because she reminded him of his mother? Probably had to be some crap like that. He’d watched his mother struggle so hard for so long and he and Nolan hadn’t made it easy on her. Maybe it was mostly guilt for how he’d been as a teen and for most of his life. Probably killed his own mother with his street crimes.
Well, if he could help keep one kid off the streets, help one mother not have to struggle like his did, it was worth it. He didn’t even see it as paying for sex anymore. And he hadn’t had sex anyway, so how could he? He knew he didn’t have to give her the money. He’d never get back the two grand from the club, and he supposed if he’d pressed, she would have given in and done what he’d paid her for.
But that sweet face, that hot body. What it came down to was, he wanted her to want him. He wanted someone like her to look at him and say, yes, I want you. But she hadn’t. He had to face the fact that she was in a different league. Maybe she was a poor single mom, but she had standards and morals, and he fell outside of them. He wasn’t good enough for someone like her. It was better to let her go. That’s why he didn’t get her number or address. He’d be tempted to use them if he had them. This way, he was unable to chase her down. And that’s how it should be. He had other things to chase, and he couldn’t afford to be distracted.
He dropped the curtain and returned to the kitchen to refill his mug. He took big gulps of his coffee. He needed energy to think and focus. Last night had been late, and he’d been so frustrated, he’d had to jerk off twice before he could fall asleep. Even now, he had a raging hard on thinking about the feel of her lips and her body under his. He’d have to jerk off in the shower or something.
He shook his head and finished the coffee. Liam. That was his focus today. Today marked exactly six months since the day he was found dead. Too long. This should have been taken care of five and a half months ago. If Liam had any living relatives, they would have rightly had his head by now for not finding the killer.
Saxton went upstairs and took another look at the knife. He’d spent many hours studying it, but he still liked to have a fresh glimpse of it before he went out for the day. There were several pictures on his phone of the knife, but they weren’t the same as seeing it in person and feeling its weight.
In his top drawer, behin
d his underwear and beside one of his guns, he felt the cold metal and closed his fingers around the hilt. He balanced the knife on his palm. It was heavy for a knife. Not something most people would carry on them. A good throwing knife. A high quality knife. The blade was sterling and sharp on both edges. The hilt was covered in intricate detail, the main feature being the eagle crest.
Many times, he’d tried to find out what that crest was. Nothing. He figured that maybe it was just decoration. Maybe not so much an eagle crest that represented some organization, but just an eagle that some knife designer thought looked better inside of a shield-like shape. He’d tried to find the manufacturer of the knife, too, but the experts he’d shown it to said it was hand made. This was an expensive knife. And something only a collector would have. Certainly something that only someone with fancy knives to spare would carry on them instead of keeping it locked up and on display. Someone like Darien.
