by Skye Warren
Secret
Skye Warren
Thank you for reading the Broken series! You can join my Facebook group for fans to discuss the series here: Skye Warren’s Dark Room. And you can sign up for my newsletter to find out about new releases at skyewarren.com/newsletter.
Enjoy the story…
Chapter One
Luke got everything together quickly, just like I knew he would.
That was him—a boy scout until the end.
He and his buddies had a vague idea of the location, and they were tracking down schematics and anything else they could find. I was back in my clothes from the club, high heels and all, and we were ready to go.
After only a few minutes on the road, it began to thunder.
Slashing rain battered the car window. I had passed out on the ride out here, with no inkling how far we really were from the city. The storm slowed us even more, turning a two-hour drive into three. The steady back-and-forth of the windshield wipers was a metronome to the tension within.
“I’m sorry,” I said. Again.
I seemed to be saying that a lot lately.
He stared straight ahead. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. If it were fine, you would look at me. Talk to me. Something.”
“I am talking to you. I’m not looking at you because I’m driving.”
“Bullshit. You haven’t looked at me since you found out I didn’t tell you. It was a mistake, okay? I’m not allowed to make mistakes?”
“You’re allowed to make mistakes,” he said evenly.
I faced away, watching a drop trail from the top of the window. It darted from one drop to another, joining and then separating, never staying long in one place. It was at the whim of the wind, of this car—of everything. No will of its own.
“I’m sorry.” My voice broke on the end.
He muttered a curse and pulled off the road. I peeked out the window, seeing only driving rain and grass and a line of trees in the distance.
“If you’re going to dump me, can you at least find a rest stop or something? I don’t want to get my hair all wet.”
“Jesus, Shelly. Some of the things that come out of your mouth.”
“Is that a request?” I eyed the space beneath the steering wheel. “Because I don’t normally do drive-bys, but I might make an exception for you.”
“I just want to strangle you. Or make love to you until you stop baiting the world.”
I smirked. “Kinky, with a touch of philosophy. I like it.”
“I can’t stand the idea of letting you go, okay? That’s why I’m not talking about it. It’s why I’m not talking to you. I’m not mad.”
“Then don’t let me go. Take me with you.”
“That’s not what I meant. I meant after. I can’t bring you with us.”
“I have to go.”
“You would just get in the way. We’d be watching out for you instead of focusing on the job.”
“I know Henri better than you or anyone else you have working for you. What if things get tough and you can’t find him or can’t get close? I can. He’ll see me. He’ll talk to me.” It was a low blow. “If it comes to getting information about your sister, no one has a better shot than me.”
He stared straight ahead. “I don’t know if I can do that. Put you in danger.”
After what happened last time, he meant. “I won’t get shot again.”
“You can’t know that.”
There was real worry in his voice, and it shook me. So of course I had to lighten the mood.
“I promise I won’t get shot. Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“Surprisingly, that isn’t giving me confidence.”
I sobered. “I need to go. For me, to get closure. There are some questions of my own I need to ask.”
He considered that, watching the rain batter the windshield. “Okay,” he finally said. “But you need to understand there’s no guarantee you’ll get to ask them. I might just shoot him on first sight.”
“As long as I get to watch.”
“Bloodthirsty woman.” He sounded approving.
Chapter Two
We drove straight to a hotel, where purple beaded lighting and black leather couches adorned the lounge. Bypassing the check-in, we took the elevators up.
I tapped the art deco paneling. “Why the fancy place?”
“Not my choice. Major doesn’t like anything affordable.”
“Major?” I wasn’t sure how I felt about bringing another person in on this, even though it seemed a little late for shyness. Mostly I didn’t want to share Luke in the time we had left.
“A guy I know. A few guys willing to help. They’re friends; don’t be nervous. What am I saying? They’re the ones who need to be nervous. Don’t bite.”
“Don’t worry. That costs extra.”
His frown was very intimidating. I wondered if he used that on perps. I considered asking, but that would probably just aggravate him further.
“Okay, okay.” I put my hands up. “I can behave. You know, GFE. The Girlfriend Experience.”
He grimaced. “If you actually were my girlfriend, then we wouldn’t have to pretend.”
Girlfriend? That sounded so high school. Which was easier to focus on than the flutter of happiness in my belly. “I’m sorry, did you ask me to be your girlfriend? Because I feel sure I would have remembered that.”
“What are the chances of you not mocking me for this?”
“Are you going to ask me to prom too? I don’t think I have a dress, but maybe we can go shopping together. That’s probably best. What color is your tux?”
“And this is why I didn’t ask.”
“Pass me a note in homeroom, and we’ll see.”
He snorted, but I detected humor dancing in his eyes.
We rode the rest of the way to the hotel in silence.
Inside, the elevator doors opened to a narrow hallway with light-beige vinyl walls. An older couple left their room and began walking toward us. The woman stared at my boobs, her face puckered in disgust.
I rolled my eyes. Typical closet lesbian.
“Behave,” Luke murmured.
I scooted over to make room for them to pass, but the woman’s hips bumped into me. I stumbled and would have fallen straight on her cleavage if Luke hadn’t caught me. He firmly pulled me forward, his hand on my elbow.
Rather than resist him, I draped myself over him in dramatic relief. “I can’t wait to get to our room.”
He shot me a quelling look.
I lowered my voice. “I’ve been thinking about this the whole drive.” Glancing back, I saw the woman shoot me one last murderous glare before rounding the corner. I shrugged at Luke’s raised brow. “What? She practically felt me up.”
He just shook his head.
We reached the room, and I was disappointed that there seemed to be no special knock or secret code for entry. He just knocked and said, “It’s me,” and we were let inside. A flutter of nerves upset my stomach, which surprised me. Since when did I get nervous about meeting new people? Most guys were nervous to meet me, not the other way around. But these were Luke’s friends.
And wow. I had expected other cops, ones who cared more about doing what was right than following the rules, like Luke. But these guys were faux military and street thugs.
Luke introduced me to Jeff, who sported green-brown fatigues, a buzz cut, and a gold hoop through his ear. He smiled shyly.
“Nice to meet you,” I said. “I like your earring.”
Jeff blushed a deep rose. “Nice to meet you too, ma’am.”
“Oh, and a southern accent. I bet the ladies line up to hear you speak.”
“Naw.” He practically scuffed his thick black boots on the glass-tile floor.
&nb
sp; Luke drew me over to meet the next man, muttering under his breath, “No flirting.”
The next guy was a local gang member, judging by both the tats down his neck and the red bandanna hanging from his pocket.
“You can call me Rico,” he said. “Because that’s my name.”
I met his fist bump with a smile. “It’s a pleasure.”
“And that’s Major.” Luke nodded toward a guy in the corner.
Major was dressed all in black, his square-set face impassive. He gave a brief wave, more like a salute.
I wondered if Luke had given them some kind of warning about me. None of them let their gazes linger below my neck. At least Rico would know who I was—what I was. Probably all of them did, considering they were helping Luke with the situation, but there was no judgment in their gazes. Judgment usually came from the ladies, but there was none of the speculation, none of the wink-wink-nudge-nudge guys tended to do when they knew, as if they turned into adolescent virgins at the thought of paying for it. There were exceptions to this rule, but rarely zero out of three like this.
The four men gathered around the glass coffee table. Even Major gave up his post in the corner, although he still drew a chair from the kitchenette, turning it backward and straddling it, distancing himself.
They had confirmed the location and were discussing the best way to get there while avoiding detection. I stood aside, not pointedly excluded but clearly unhelpful to any tactical discussions. The unique cultural norms of Henri and the prostitution community at large—color me an anthropological expert. Breaking through a state-of-the-art security system, not so much.
From my perch against the window, I considered the assembly. Were they from Luke’s past as a homeless kid? Or his present as a cop, maybe other informants? The two sides of Luke had seemed disparate when he first told me the story, as if he had been reborn as a different person. Slowly I had come to merge them in my mind, to see glimmers of his boyhood in the man. He was fiercely determined, unafraid—like a gutter dog. He was unflinchingly loyal, in a way inherent to street life. On the streets, you either ran pack or died. Luke was a survivor all the way.
I only hoped that carried through to the mission, as the boys were fond of calling it.
There was a basket of snacks and candy on top of the counter, a sort of high-trust minibar. Luke hadn’t eaten since we were at the cottage. He needed to keep up his strength if we were going over tonight. I prepared a tray of sodas and arranged snacks and carried it to the coffee table, as if this were fucking game night and I was the little lady.
Luke and Major had their heads bent together over a laptop, murmuring quietly, but Jeff immediately reached for a cola with a quiet thanks.
“Is there anything noncaffeinated?” Rico asked.
Jeff flipped the top of his can. “Seriously?”
“Unlike some people, I don’t need artificial additives to stay awake. Not when that adrenaline rush hits.”
“I think there’s grapefruit juice,” I offered.
Rico made a face.
“I’ll look for something else.” I returned to the minifridge. “Sorry, but if it doesn’t have caffeine, it’s got alcohol. I’m guessing that counts as an artificial additive.”
Rico trailed me to the counter, poking at the remaining items in the basket. “Ooh, think these are any good? Gourmet Dipping Pretzels.”
Straightening, I shook my head. “They go stale fast, but hotels only replace them if someone eats them. Here, stick with a classic.” I handed him a Snickers bar. “High turnover rates and low cost-to-fullness ratio.”
“Will do.”
He reached for a glass on the counter and turned on the faucet. He must have caught something in my expression, because he paused.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He looked from his half-full cup of tap water to me. “Now you have to tell me.”
I scrunched my nose. “Don’t cheap out with the water. You don’t want to know about those cups.”
He immediately set it on the counter but peered into it. “It looks clean.”
“I have it on good authority that the rinse-and-wipe is often employed. And you do not want to know what liquids end up in there sometimes.”
“What are you, some sort of hotel connoisseur?” he joked. His face fell as he realized what he’d just said. “I didn’t mean—”
“No, it’s okay,” I said with a small smile. “That’s a new euphemism. I like it.”
He seemed relieved. “I mean, it’s not as if I’m in a position to judge.”
“You wouldn’t be the first.” I handed him a bottle of water from the fridge. “Paying a hooker doesn’t have quite the same stigma as being one.”
“What did Luke tell you about me exactly?”
I laughed, popping the top of my cola. “Not much. Just that you were helping him out with this. He didn’t tell me about your hooker-buying habits, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m just stereotyping.” The gang symbols, the old track marks on his arms, not that I had to spell it out. “Why, you telling me you’ve never been with one?”
He was thoughtful for a minute. “No. I’m afraid I fit the profile in that particular regard.” Then, “You aren’t afraid to speak your mind.”
My lips curved. “Is that an insult or a compliment?”
“I prefer honesty to lies. Though I may not always like what you say.” Glancing back toward the men, his expression turned speculative. “So how long have you and Luke been…you know.”
I blinked. “Working together?”
“Doing the nasty.”
“Oh. Umm…”
It was his turn to laugh. “All right, straight talker. I guess that answers my question.”
When he smiled, I realized how handsome he was. More than that, almost pretty. He had thick black lashes and a sensual mouth most girls would kill for. It was all covered up in the gang wear and a layer of grunge, making his skin oily and darkened. I frowned. Or was it just that black gunk Luke had used as a disguise? And if so, why would Rico dress up as a gang member? Maybe it was some sort of undercover operation, although I couldn’t imagine how it would work. Surely the gang members themselves wouldn’t be fooled by a disguise—they would know who was in and who was out. Still, he suddenly seemed too proper underneath all that mess, his teeth too white and his speech too cultured.
“Are you a cop?” I asked.
He stared at me for a second before laughing so loud the other guys looked over. He whooped for a minute before catching his breath. “She thinks I’m a cop.”
Jeff turned to me, gesturing at Rico. “This clown?”
I shrugged sheepishly. “It was just a thought.”
“Come on, guys,” Luke said. “Back to work.”
As the men settled in again, Luke sent me a half smile over the tops of their heads. Heat warmed my cheeks, though I couldn’t have said whether it was embarrassment over guessing wrong about Rico—we hookers had a certain professional detection, usually—or simply being a part of a group after so long. The only place I’d ever belonged was with Henri’s other girls, but I’d never felt comfortable with them. I did here, and that had everything to do with Luke.
I listened on the sidelines as they discussed what would go down tonight. It was a simple plan, though it did involve a fair amount of walking. Or running, more likely. My high heels would be impossible. I checked my pocket. Yup, still had the few hundred in cash I’d slipped there last night before leaving for the club. We had passed a boutique in the lobby. They had mostly artsy clothes, but almost anything would be better than these heels.
Luke caught me with my hand on the knob. “Where are you going?”
I pointed to my shoes. “These aren’t exactly activewear.” I reconsidered. “Well, I suppose that depends on the activity. But it sounds like there’s going to be some full-fledged jogging, and these heels aren’t going to cut it. I’m going to check the gift shop to see if they have something
better.”
“Wait, she’s coming with us?” Rico asked, incredulous.
I felt myself pout. I thought I’d made friends with that one.
“No way,” Jeff said.
Jerk. The gold earring should have been my first clue.
Major frowned at Luke, waiting for his response. The room grew quiet, the men watchful. I waited along with them, unsure of my place. Luke had told me I could go, but his reluctant promise given when we were alone faded in front of the complicated planning and camaraderie of these men.
“She’s coming,” Luke said.
I breathed a sigh of relief. Despite their earlier objections, both Rico and Jeff shrugged and turned back to their planning. Only Major’s eyes narrowed a bit, as if he might veto the decision. I wondered if he had that power. I tried to look innocuous. Shit, I had no idea how to seem innocuous.
Luke slanted me a look. “Are you scared of him?”
“Who?” I asked innocently.
“Major.”
“No, why, are you looking to do a three-way? Because I’m game for it, but you have to be in the middle. I’m allergic to all that brooding.”
He shook his head, muttering to himself, “Why do I even ask?” Then to Major, “Take her downstairs.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “Why is he taking me?”
“Because you’re being hunted in this city, and he will make sure you don’t get shot in the head.”
“Okay, fair point. But why can’t you take me?”
“Because it would be distracting, and I’d probably end up having sex with you in a changing room.”
I bit my lip. “I’m still waiting for the downside.”
“Go.”
Major brushed past us, muttering, “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
Chapter Three
“Oh, this’ll be fun,” I said, stepping into the boutique.
We had quickly determined that unless I wanted an I Heart Chicago T-shirt or strappy sandals with bulbous gems, the hotel gift shop wasn’t going to cut it. Which meant we’d hit the street, just an anonymous guy and girl out for a stroll. No one would know that he despised me. No one would know it actually hurt to be rejected by one of Luke’s friends—just another way we didn’t fit.
