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by Melissa Pearl

Or maybe I was just the world’s most gullible idiot.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Rachel

  I was.

  I was an idiot. A stupid, naive, didn’t know shit idiot.

  Of course I didn’t realize this until I waltzed back into the dressing room, feeling kind of smug as I imagined how I was going to spend my money. First things first, I was going get out from under Aren’s thumb, pay back all his damn bills, and set myself free.

  It didn’t earn me the right to go back to Josh, but at least I’d be in control of my own career. Even when I was homeless, I’d had some say. I was in control of who I chose to approach for ‘help.’ I wanted that control back.

  Slouching into my chair, I looked up at the ceiling and blew out a relieved sigh.

  Walter Spence made me nervous, but for that much money, I’d be willing to work with him. Especially if it was per recording. As soon as it was done, I could hightail it out of there if I wanted to. Unless I enjoyed the work and he wanted to offer me more.

  A music video.

  What would that be like?

  I grinned.

  “Why are you smiling?” Loretta flicked my curls as she walked past me. They landed in my face, and I blew them off before sitting up and turning to her with a twinkle in my eye.

  “I have a private performance on Wednesday to audition for Walter Spence.”

  “Really?” She spun with a skeptical frown.

  “Yeah, why not?”

  She wriggled out of her skin-tight tank top and reached for her bra. “I just didn’t think you’d be up for that kind of thing. According to Hazel, Walter likes it rough.” Her eyebrows shot north as my gut plummeted south.

  “Excuse me? What are you talking about?”

  “Sex. He likes it rough.” She shimmied out of her skirt and stood there in her underwear, eyeing me. If I looked as pale as I felt, then I could understand why.

  “I ain’t sleeping with him. I’m recording a music video.”

  She placed her hands on her hips, her long hair cascading over her shoulder as she tipped her head to the side. “I thought you just said he booked you in for a private session.”

  “Yeah, an audition. I ain’t no whore. He’s not getting underneath this skirt.”

  Her face folded with a look of pity. “Oh, Rach, you really don’t know anything, do you?”

  My scowl was deep as I glared at her. “Excuse me?”

  “Prepare yourself, sweetheart, because if you want that contract, you’re going to be doing a hell of a lot more than singing.”

  “He can’t make me do that.”

  “No, you’re right. He can’t. But if you want that music video, then you’ll need to. Small sacrifices, right?”

  “Small sacrifices? Are you kidding me?”

  Loretta shrugged.

  “How do you know this stuff? Who’s Hazel anyway?”

  With a soft sigh, she moved to my side, settling into the seat across from me. “She used to work here…but she’s made it to the next level, if you know what I mean.”

  I grimaced. “Why would she want to do that? Walter Spence is a fat, ugly man.”

  “A rich, fat, ugly man.”

  “But…ew!”

  Loretta chuckled. “This is just what she told me and she was prone to exaggeration, but Walter gets what Walter wants, and if you want any shot at getting out of this dump, then you should seriously consider it. You know, short-term pain for long-term gain.”

  I made a face. “That’s disgusting.”

  “You should be grateful he’s even noticed you. I’ve been stuck here for nearly two years.”

  “You didn’t sign for twelve months?” My eyes bulged wide.

  “Sure I did…and then I signed for another twelve.”

  “Why?”

  “This business is hard to break out of. Once you agree to do one thing, it leads you to another and then another. I’ve accepted that, and I’m okay with my role here. It’s better than being on the streets. Paying Aren off what I still owed him would have put me right back where I started, and I wasn’t willing to do that.”

  I frowned, turning away from her. “He’s going to trap me here forever, isn’t he?”

  “He’s already trapped you.” Loretta stood from her chair but paused to squeeze my shoulder before walking away. “And don’t forget, Aren arranged this for you. You screw up this audition with Walter, and he’s going to make you pay.”

  Her warning tone gave me the willies, and I had to look away from her so she didn’t see the fear riding over my expression.

  What the hell was I going to do?

  “You sure Hazel was telling you the truth about Walter?” I croaked.

  Loretta slid on her skinny jeans and zipped the fly. “You could never be sure with Hazel, but I’d be prepared if I were you.”

  I winced, gripping my hands together and praying Hazel was wrong.

  Prancing around on a stage was one thing, but having sex with Fat Fingers…I didn’t know if I could do it.

  I mean, yes, I’d slept with strangers, but that was before Josh…and that was for survival!

  This was for…

  Breaths punched out of my mouth, uneven and erratic.

  What if Aren tried to use that damn contract against me again? What if he went after Josh?

  Small sacrifices! That’s what Loretta called them.

  But how much was I really willing to sacrifice?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Josh

  “Duke, come on, boy. Get inside.” I clicked my fingers and slapped my thigh, grinning when my bloodhound came running.

  He galloped across the backyard and barreled past me into the kitchen. Stopping at his water bowl, he guzzled loudly while I petted his back. I’d made him run a little farther than usual that morning, but I’d needed it. Running seemed to soothe me in a way other things couldn’t. Once I’d set my pace, I was able to zone out, the world going into soft focus for a while.

  I liked the world that way—it didn’t sting so bad.

  Aunt Lindy had gotten me into running as a kid. Every time my dad deployed, she’d force me to go exercising with her. At the time, I loathed it. I wanted to wallow in my room, missing and hating my dad for leaving me, but she got me out on those country roads and forced me to run…and it had been exactly what I’d needed.

  I’d never broken the habit, although having Rachel in my bed in the mornings had me cutting my runs pretty short. But she wasn’t there anymore, and the more time passed, the longer my runs became.

  Nearly seven weeks and I still hadn’t called her back.

  I was a stubborn fool, or maybe just a really smart man.

  Pulling my hair free of its ponytail, I flicked my curls out before splashing water on my face. It dripped off my chin as I gazed in the mirror. I didn’t know what my reflection was trying to tell me. People kept saying I looked tired. Mrs. Watters down the road was a mite worried. She kept on dropping off meals for me, muttering about that heart-breaking wench who left me. I didn’t like that part so much. Yeah, Rachel had left me, but I was the only one who was allowed to complain about it! And she sure as hell wasn’t the slutty whore everyone claimed she was. She’d done those things out of pure survival, plain and simple.

  Duke trotted over to me but stopped halfway, his head jerking for the back door. His bark was gruff, but the way his tail wagged told me this was no guest. Whoever was walking in that door was coming home.

  “Rachel?” I whispered, hope soaring through me until I rounded the corner and saw my uncle rubbing Duke’s head.

  “Hey, boy!” He chuckled, crouching down and getting a fair lick to his ginger-speckled beard. He laughed and kept rubbing, throwing me a broad smile.

  “What are you doing here?” I leaned against the doorframe with a grin.

  His gaze remained on Duke, and he finished his petting session before standing tall and coming toward me with a cautious expression.

  My face wrinkled,
instant tension knotting my shoulders. “Everything okay?”

  His nod was too short and sharp to be sincere, and dread spiked through me. Uncle Amos did not deliver bad news well. I would never forget the day he told me Dad had died. He’d just blurted it out, and I’d gone into a state of shock.

  Aunt Lindy had taught him a thing or two since then, but it was still taking all his constraint not to slap me with it.

  I had no idea what could possibly be wrong. The guy was away traveling, living a life full of adventure. Aw crap, he was here to tell me he was dying. Cancer, just like his wife.

  I took a step away from him, digging my heels into the hardwood floor and bracing myself. “What is it? You dying?”

  His thick eyebrows popped high and he shook his head. “No, nothing like that.”

  “It’s not good news.”

  “No.” Amos shook his head. “It’s not. You might need yourself a drink.”

  “Just say it!” I swallowed after my hollering outburst, my heartbeat loud in my ears.

  With a sigh, Uncle Amos brushed past me, sliding the pack off his shoulders as he sauntered into the main bar. My muscles were wound so tight it was hard to walk. I had no idea what it was about…absolutely no clue, and that was damn scary.

  His pack landed with a thump next to the bar and he pulled two shot glasses down, filling them with bourbon and then sliding one my way. He looked at home back there, like no time had passed at all. The comfortable pre-opening silence in the bar, the patter of Duke’s paws on the wood as he danced around my uncle’s feet. I hated that the sweet moment was being tainted by something…something bad.

  Uncle Amos tossed back his drink and placed the glass down before finally looking at me.

  “You’re not going to like it.” He scratched his long whiskers.

  “I’m going to have to throttle you if you don’t spit out this damn news already!”

  His sigh was deep and heavy as he yanked something from his back pocket. “I know I could’ve called, but I thought it’d be better if I showed you this in person.”

  He slapped a flyer onto the bar. The shiny paper slid my way, and I caught it with the palm of my hand before collecting it up. My heart failed right there on the spot. It turned to custard and slid into my belly, the thudding in my ears replaced with a high-pitched ringing.

  “Rachel?” I choked out the word, running my finger over her glossy image.

  She was wearing nothing but boots and a thong, perched on silky pillows looking like a porn star. A guitar and straw hat were resting beside her supple body, and her hair was teased into a mountain of curls that she had clasped in her hands. Her perfect breasts were on full display, her pink nipples erect, and her tongue was peeking out the side of her mouth—a smoldering temptress.

  Written in fancy letters across the bottom was:

  Sissy Hancock—the sexiest cowgirl in the west.

  Performing nightly at Club Liberation.

  I threw the flyer down as if it was infected and muttered a string of curses. I could barely see past the rage blurring my vision.

  “Have your drink, son.”

  “I don’t want a drink,” I growled. “How the hell could she do this!”

  “We don’t know the full story.”

  “Did you see her?” I thundered, my voice sounding ten times louder in the empty bar.

  “I tried to get in, but the line was around the corner. By the time I finally reached the door, security told me she’d already performed. When I asked to see her, he said I had to book a private session or come back the next night. He handed me a card and that was it. I called the number the next day, and the lady told me a night with Sissy was a flat rate of eight hundred dollars.”

  My chin near hit the floor. “A night with Sissy?” I could barely spit out the words.

  “I think it just means a private performance,” he mumbled, neither one of us buying his lie.

  I wanted to hurl. Gripping the bar, I leaned against it and fought the stars dotting my vision.

  “Where’d you find that thing?” I pointed at the flyer.

  “They were handing them out on the street in downtown LA. I was just out walking one night and it was shoved at me.” Uncle Amos ran a hand through his shaggy locks and scratched the top of his head. “I thought you said she was doing okay?”

  I scowled, turning away from that chastising tone of his. “I tried calling her to check in, but she only texted me back with minor details. I had no idea she was—” I pointed at the flyer with an agonized frown.

  “I tried to go and see her the next day, but they said I had to wait for the evening and line up like everybody else. I tried calling her, but it just went to voicemail.” My uncle’s lips bunched, making his round cheeks puff out. He reached for the flyer, looking at the image with a sad pensiveness. “I’m worried about her. There’s no way she would have gone if this was the offer. You don’t think they tricked her somehow, do you?”

  My white-hot shock snapped into hiding, anger coursing through me at the idea of that Parker guy forcing her to do this against her will.

  “I’ll kill him,” I muttered.

  “Now don’t get ahead of yourself.” Uncle Amos raised his hand. “This is exactly why I wanted to come back and see you. I am worried for her, but charging in there guns-blazing ain’t gonna solve this. We need to think it through.”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Call and talk to her. Tell her no promise to her mother is worth this.”

  “She won’t call me back, and she sure as shit won’t be telling me about this, you can guarantee it.”

  Duke whined, his tail thumping on the floor as he stared up at me with his big eyes. I glanced away from his loyal concern. He’d always been able to sense my moods, and right now there was nothing he could do to make it better. There was nothing anyone could do!

  “Maybe you’re right,” Uncle Amos murmured. “She needs to see your face.”

  My head snapped up, and I caught his steady gaze. “You telling me I should go, bring her home?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.” He slapped the flyer on the bar again. “I don’t think our Rachel would want to do this. There must be something keeping her there. You need to head to LA and tell her you love her, and she doesn’t have to degrade herself this way to make it.”

  “What if she doesn’t listen to me?”

  “Boy, don’t be a fool.” He threw the flyer at me. “She loves you. She needs to see your face and hear you tell her how much she means to you. She won’t be able to resist coming back after that.”

  I swallowed, suddenly doubting if I was up for that task. I’d never been good with words, and the way my heart was thundering, I didn’t know if I could pull it off. Of all the times in my life to get it right, it had to be then.

  The thought of other men seeing my girl that way made me sick.

  I had to get her out of whatever hole she’d crawled into.

  “I’ll stay and watch this place while you’re gone.” Uncle Amos scratched Duke’s head, grinning down at my dog. “We’ll take care of things, won’t we, Dukey-boy.”

  The bloodhound’s tail smacked against the wood.

  I crossed my arms with a sigh. “Okay, I’ll get going, but can you not say—”

  “I won’t be telling nobody about this.” Uncle Amos flicked his gaze my way. “I’ll just say you’ve gone to visit your girl to cheer her on.”

  I winced. The very idea made me want to crumble. If that was the flyer advertising her performance, what the hell was she doing during a performance! Bile ate at my insides as I clambered up the stairs, snatching my wallet and keys before making for my truck.

  “Stop for the night.” Uncle Amos patted me on the shoulder as I hugged him goodbye. “You’ll do her no favors by dying trying to get to her.”

  “Got it.” I rubbed Duke’s head then spun for the door.

  “Josh.”

  I paused with my hand on
the knob and glanced back.

  “It’s going to be okay.”

  I wanted to believe him, but as I ran for my truck, I couldn’t stop the doubts. What the hell had Rachel gotten herself into? And why hadn’t she ditched it all and come back to me?

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Rachel

  The club was empty. Wednesday mornings were usually for sleeping and having some time out, but not for me. I was doing my final practice before having to perform for Walter later that night. Aren had me in full dress-rehearsal mode, and it was hard to hide my jitters.

  I was damn near naked in a transparent dress. It was a black, sheer concoction that most definitely belonged in a bedroom. The only thing I had underneath it was a red, lacy G-string. But worst of all was that my boots and hat were nowhere to be seen. Instead, I was wearing red heels that were impossible to move in. My ankle rolled as I tried to sashay across the stage. I caught myself and carried on like I hadn’t nearly fallen on my ass.

  I hated the song—“Sexy Love.”

  I mean, it wasn’t a bad song. It was actually really catchy, but slather it in the fact Walter Spence wanted me singing it just for him while I pranced near-naked on a stage, and it suddenly became the dirtiest, filthiest piece of smut I’d ever had to perform.

  It wasn’t my style at all, and I didn’t understand why I had to do it. I thought I was Sissy, the country sweetheart, not some lace-wearing slut!

  “No, damn it! Sway your hips more,” Aren barked at me from the back of the room. “The song’s about sex! You’re supposed to be a siren, not a wooden pole! You’re too stiff. Loosen up and shake that booty.”

  I wanted to curse him right then, but I knew it’d be pointless. He’d just make me run through the routine until I gave him what he wanted. I tried to think ‘liquid’ as I moved back to the center of the stage and “Sexy Love” started playing again. Singing the song in the husky voice Aren wanted, I threw my all into putting on a good show. I became the sultry feline he’d asked for…well, Walter had asked for.

  A shudder quivered my belly as I dipped low and licked the edge of my mouth as if I wanted it.