by Jessa James
“I... I can’t,” she whimpered softly.
“Your turn to relax, darlin’, I’m just going to see you home safely, okay?”
“I don’t... I can’t...” she whispered, terrified green eyes settled on his.
Ah, and there it is, he thought as he hailed a cab and barked the address to his hotel at the driver.
She must live with the abusive asshole. Or somewhere else where he’d be able to kick her ass for leaving with Walker. As soon as he could lift his own sorry ass off the ground, anyway.
In all of two seconds, he decided he couldn’t let that happen. His dearly departed mother had raised respectful, decent boys when it came to women. None of the Roman brothers would abandon a girl in this situation. He sure as shit wasn’t going to.
He’d get her a room at his hotel and figure out where to take her in the morning. Surely she had a friend or someone she could stay with.
He got them both back to The Hotel Monteleone quickly. He left her on on the couch in the small reception area in the front of the hotel, intending to talk to the people at the front desk.
By the time he’d finished arguing with the night staff of the hotel trying to get her a room, she’d fallen asleep. He was staying in a small boutique hotel; apparently the group bookings for the weekend had it at capacity. There were no rooms available.
He studied her tiny sleeping form as he considered his options. He couldn’t very well leave her sleeping on a couch in the reception area. Nor could he wake her and demand an address when she hadn’t been able to give him one earlier.
He wondered if the fates were testing him for a reason.
He didn’t really see another option. She was staying with him tonight. He let out a deep, steadying breath. Then he gently lifted her into his arms and carried her up to his room.
He took care not to jostle her as he swiped his key card and kicked the door open. He carried her in the door, inwardly smirking. It was ironic that his family wanted him to do just that with a woman, but would certainly not approve of this particular one. He set her down on the bed. He carefully removed her sky-high heels and then adjusted her so he could settle her under the comforter.
Her red hair fanned out over the pillow as she burrowed into the big bed, sighing contentedly. Anger swam at the edges of his vision as he saw a large purple bruise had started forming over her arm and shoulder. He forced himself to walk over to the couch instead of going back to beat the shit out of the coward who’d done this to her.
He was planning on sleeping on the couch when he hatched this plan. After an hour of tossing and turning though, he accepted that it wasn’t going to grow to accommodate his tall frame. He also suspected that a few of its springs seemed to have taken issue with his ribs.
He groaned in frustration, looking at the bed.
Why not? It was his room, after all. It wasn't like he was going to do anything to her. He slid into the bed next to her, taking care not to touch her in any way.
Sure, he’d slept in much worse places than that miserable couch. God only knew that the threadbare old thing was pure luxury compared to some of the places he’d slept while in the service. But then he hadn’t had half of a perfectly good emperor-size bed just steps away from him. They could both sleep comfortably for ages in a bed this size, and never touch each other.
He examined her in the moonlight pouring into the room. She looked so innocent, so vulnerable while she slept, despite the heavy makeup still on her face. He knew it was foolish, but he felt an overwhelming need to protect this girl. As if somehow he could make things right for her, save her from the demons he’d seen in her eyes earlier...
He shook his head. He wasn’t that guy. He had plenty of his own demons to slay.
He was finally drifting off to sleep, realizing just before he went under that he didn’t even know her real name.
2
Ashleigh Walsh woke with a start, examining her surroundings with a wary eye. Her gaze settled on the man lying in the bed next to her, breathing peacefully as his bare chest moved up and down.
The comforter was drawn halfway down his body. It showcased the chiseled line of his shoulders, his wide chest, and the top half of his washboard abs. His muscular arm was draped over his forehead. Impossibly long eyelashes peeked out underneath.
Then reality dawned on her. She was with this man, this stranger... Well built as he may be, they were in a strange hotel room. In his bed.
She took stock of her surroundings. She was still wearing the tiny black dress and her panties from the night before. Her muscles didn’t seem tender anywhere as she clenched. She had a sleepy memory of him tucking her in bed.
But that didn’t happen to girls like her.
Girls like her were drugged and left in alleys when they’d served their purpose. They were left alive or dead. Girls like her slept on the street when they lost their lodging. It would sometimes be months before they could afford somewhere new.
She remembered the way he’d defended her last night in the club. Remembered when he’d stood up for her when one of the other guys from the bachelor party had gotten a little handsy.
She also remembered the relief she felt later, when Igor had been ripped off of her and gone crashing to the ground. The last thing she remembered before falling asleep in the lobby was how soft the couch had been. She'd thought about how comfortable it had felt under her aching body.
She’d just wanted to close her eyes for a minute. To shut out the terror she’d felt when she’d been sure that Igor was going to kill her this time. It was like her mind had just shut down when she’d realized that she was safe from him, for now. The next thing she knew, here she was.
A paralyzing fear gripped her as she remembered the fact that Igor hadn’t been the only thing on the ground. Her backpack...
Everything that she’d managed to save from waitressing was in that backpack. Everything she’d been able to save from Igor's greedy paws, that is.
But she owed him...
Igor was the only person that was keeping her from a much worse fate. From being sold by the club owners to some Middle Eastern sheikh or as a sex slave.
Now she didn’t even have that kind of certainty. If she went back to Igor, he was going to beat her within an inch of her life. Assuming that Igor didn't decide that she wasn't worth the trouble...
If he did, she would either go into the deeper recesses of the sex trade, or have to cough up some serious money. Money that she didn't have.
No money to pay off the bullshit debt she owed to the club owners. That meant no freedom. Especially now that she didn’t have Igor, who’d been protecting her from going into the worst parts of their plans for her.
Tears gathered in her eyes, unbidden. There was nowhere to go from here. No idea where her next bed would be, if she would even have one.
She wondered for a second if Middle Eastern sheikhs provided their harems with beds. Then she gave herself a sharp shake, and pushed the thought stubbornly from her mind. She’d die before she went there.
So, all things considered, she was fucked. Completely and utterly fucked. No money, man, or job...
Plus debt that would be called up any day now. Debt that she couldn’t repay.
She leaned back against the bed, dropped her arm over her eyes and groaned. She needed a plan. She needed to get out of New Orleans somehow.
But where would she go? She didn’t know anyone outside the club, since management was really strict about that. She sighed, wishing for a different life. Something else, somewhere else.
She pulled her arm off her face. When would she learn? Wishing never got her anywhere. She needed to tackle this, head-on.
First things first though, she had to wake sleeping beauty. And what a beauty he was, his chest still rising and falling steadily as he lay easily beside her.
She briefly considered just sneaking away, but she owed him a thank you. It was the one thing in her life she could control right now. It was someth
ing that she could do because she wanted to.
Last night at the club, he’d seemed so indestructible it was almost inhuman, but in the soft light of day she could see that he was very much human. He was muscled, yes. Every muscle was defined. Years of dedication to it defined. Working out every day defined. His skin was tanned and the open hand on the comforter beside her was callused. He was definitely no stranger to hard, physical work she deduced.
She sat up with a sigh, leaning over and shaking his shoulder gently.
“Uh, Mr....”
Shit. Had he given her his name? She couldn’t remember what it might be. Well, if there was any way to make this more awkward, this was it!
But she had bigger problems.
“Hey, sleepyhead!”
She shook him a little harder, her voice still quiet. His eyes shot open, seemingly bewildered for a moment by the daylight streaming in.
He turned to her, his forest green hazel eyes sweeping over her for a single second. They dipped to her breasts, before returning to her eyes.
For a minute, they both seemed tongue-tied, completely at a loss for words. Then they started talking at exactly the same time.
“Usually I do this before spending the night in bed with a woman, but I’m Walker.” He gave her a sheepish grin.
“Thank you for last night, you really didn’t have to! I’m mortified! I’m--,” she started.
They both paused, then laughed a little awkwardly.
“You first.” He nodded to her.
She gave him a shy smile as she extended her small hand out to him.
“I’m Doll. Thank you for last night.”
Their eyes locked as their hands made contact. His hand was warm and strong in hers, and she held onto it for just a bit too long. She reveled in the comfort she felt in his touch.
A booming knock sounded at the door in that moment.
“Yo, Roman! You in there?” someone yelled. “We’re moving out, man! Open the fucking door!”
He sighed as he heaved himself off the bed. The jeans he’d slept in were hanging off of his sculpted hips in a way that made her cheeks flush. They also made her breathing just a little bit deeper, despite her current predicament.
Seeing him half naked without the comforter was a sight for sore eyes. Those muscular arms and shoulders that she’d been ogling earlier were magnificent. His washboard abs looked good enough to lick. And the abs led down to those ‘fuck me’ lines that only the best built guys had between their hips. The kind that made even good girls drool...
And Ashleigh was not a good girl -- she was a damned strip club waitress.
He strode to the door, yanked it open and growled at whomever was on the other side.
“Yeah, I’m gonna go ahead and skip the next club, Ace,” she heard him saying.
“Come on, Roman!” the voice pleaded. “This is the primo club in New Orleans if the rumors are true! We're gonna go hit the breakfast buffet.”
Ashleigh spotted her backpack in the corner of the room and nearly cried from relief. She quietly got out of bed while the exchange was going on, grabbed her backpack, and headed to the bathroom.
She pulled a change of clothes out of the backpack. She washed her face, and rinsed her mouth with mouthwash from a bottle sitting on the counter. The whole time, she was wondering where the hell she was going to sleep tonight. And whether she’d be able to wash her face under running water tomorrow morning.
She finished just in time to hear him tell the man at the door that he wouldn’t be joining them just yet. She heard him close the door with a loud click.
His handsome face appeared in the bathroom doorway.
“Doll, huh?”
He leaned up against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. It took her a second to realize he referred back to what she’d been saying before the interruption.
She felt defensive all of a sudden.
Why should it matter to him? He was coming back here to this luxurious hotel room tonight. She’d in all likelihood be sleeping with her backpack as her pillow for the umpteenth time. Trying to sleep with one eye open as she protected her only possessions in the world.
“Yeah, that’s my name. You don’t like it, well,” she shrugged. “It is what it is, nothin’ to be done about it.”
“Don’t want to give me your actual name yet? That’s okay,” he drawled softly. “Well then, Doll. I’m starving. You up for breakfast?”
He cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly as he waited patiently for an answer. She drank in his mesmerizing eyes, his high cheekbones and his full lips. She found herself unable to think for a second as she was struck again by just how gorgeous he was. She didn’t trust her voice, so she just nodded.
He grinned, causing his eyes to light up in a way that somehow managed to make her feel special to be favored with it.
“You wanna shower first?” he asked.
She gulped as she pushed all thoughts of him out of her mind and nodded her agreement. This was not the time to be thinking about some guy. And she was definitely not turning down a warm shower if he was offering. Especially since she had no idea when her next one might be.
3
An hour later they were out and heading to a restaurant in the area. It was a local greasy spoon that she knew served a pretty good breakfast at decent prices. After all he’d done for her, the least she could do was buy him breakfast. Even if it was still going to dig into her minuscule nest egg.
They found a table easily and ordered coffees and breakfast. She studied him as he tucked into his bacon. She had to repress her smile as he polished off his plate and didn’t stop until every scrap of food was gone. He ate like a person who didn’t think that his next meal would be any good. It was a look that she was quite familiar with. He even savored the fresh tomatoes that were the garnish to his plate.
Neither of them said much while they ate, but she couldn’t help herself as he popped the last bite of tomato into his mouth.
“How is it that a guy who can afford a room like that can attack food in a place this like it’s the best thing you’ve ever eaten?”
He contemplated his answer for a minute, dark eyebrows furrowing. His hazel eyes narrowed with thought.
“I’ve had worse meals. I try the to make the most of every decent one I have now. Also, I appreciate the fact that I’m here and get to have them, so I’m not letting it go to waste,” he answered cryptically.
She didn’t push the issue, though. God knew she had enough crap of her own to deal with.
He insisted on paying for breakfast, claiming that he owed her for saving him from tequila shots at a strip club this morning. They strolled back in the direction of the hotel in a comfortable silence.
She was trying to make a plan for where she could go once she’d retrieved her precious backpack from his room. She turned to say something to Walker, when her blood suddenly turned to ice.
She recognized a man walking toward them on the sidewalk... and the man didn't have a friendly expression on his face.
She’d known him for a long time. In fact, he’d been the one to tell her that she would be working at the club she’d walked out on last night.
She shuddered as his eyes met hers across the hot pavement. She had been sixteen the first time she’d looked into those eyes. The first time she realized that she was looking into the eyes of one of the men who owned her. She was his, until she could figure out a way to repay her dead mother’s ridiculous debt. And then there was her own to think of...
She hadn’t been able to afford a funeral for her parents. They hadn’t had two pennies to rub together when they both met their untimely, yet completely unsurprising deaths. There were no wreaths in a church, no flowers to lay at engraved headstones. Hell, there weren't even headstones.
She’d simply walked away from the coroner’s office, barely sixteen years old. She had no family, no friends, no one’s shoulder to lay her terrified head on. She knew what happened to
kids like her. Knew that foster care and group homes were her future.
She'd heard stories about what went on in those places. There was no way in hell that she was going there. She’d tried to think of some way to escape it, but her head was foggy.
She was exhausted and numb from the events of the last twelve hours. She hadn’t slept a wink in over twenty-four hours, and she’d just left her parents behind... forever.
She just wanted to sleep.
She crashed once she’d reached their seedy apartment, trying to stay away from where everything had happened. The spot where she’d found them. There was evidence of the police who had been there earlier, but her sluggish mind couldn’t comprehend the enormity of it all. What had happened here not so long ago.
She was still exhausted when she woke up from her fitful, nightmare-ridden attempt at sleep. She stayed on her bed for a long time after waking up, trying to map out some sort of future for herself.
She wasn’t going to be able to finish high school, that much she knew. She knew nothing about getting a job, and had no meaningful skills that came to mind immediately. So in short, she was going nowhere. She had nothing and no one. She wouldn’t even be able to stay on in the crappy apartment for long if she wanted to avoid the foster care system...
A noise from outside her bedroom startled her hours later. Her heart dropped to her stomach and tears sprung to her eyes. She thought about trying to hide, but that would have been useless.
Surely social services will find me eventually, she thought.
Foolishly, she hadn’t even tried to run. The door to her bedroom swung open, and a bulky man stepped through it. He held an unlit cigarette between his teeth. She saw his beady eyes from across the room.
He didn’t look like a childcatcher, as she’d come to think of the social workers who would surely be collecting her soon. Dread spread through her body. He openly raked his eyes across every inch of her. His appraisal made her feel naked, even though she was wearing baggy sweatpants and a large hoodie.
