She was sick to her stomach to have to talk to him.
He controlled everything within the city, moving between the spoiled world of the rich and entitled to the dregs of human society who had long ago lost their morals. He earned money legally through his clubs and illegally through gambling and prostitution.
She had met him a couple of times when her mother was unable to find a sitter. He would hide her in a back room during her mother’s show. Even as a child she had recognized the fear everyone had in their eyes when he was near. However, he had been her only recourse when her friend, Sawyer, disappeared a month ago.
Sawyer had been working as a waitress in a restaurant downtown when she met Rick Redman and began dating him. Vida still remembered her getting ready to go out for the evening in a new dress and freshly done nails. Vida, sharing an apartment with Sawyer, had been skeptical of the over-groomed businessman’s interest in Sawyer when he had picked her up that night. When she didn’t return, her skepticism turned to downright fear.
Worried sick, Vida had gone to the police. They put out a missing persons report, but it had been of little help—Sawyer had no family or friends other than Vida. Vida, not receiving encouraging answers from the police, had turned to King for help. Within twenty-four hours, King discovered information that had terrified Vida.
Rick Redman was not the concert promoter he had told Sawyer he was. The bastard was a pimp for high-class call girls. Vida had sunk to the floor when King had told her, envisioning Sawyer drugged, raped and held captive against her will.
She had begged King for help and he had agreed to help, but for a price. Vida would move into his club where he could keep an eye on her while he would try to get Sawyer back. He had warned her it would take some time since he needed to find out who Redman worked for.
Vida had wanted to refuse, yet she had known King was her only chance after she had gone to the police and they couldn’t find a trace of Redman. Vida’s options were few; either go to work for King or lose her childhood friend forever. Vida began stripping three nights later after King’s women had given her a crash course in seductively taking her clothes off under the black lights.
Her knees were trembling as she crossed the large dim room. As she came closer, she noticed King wasn’t alone. Vida hadn’t seen the man in the club before. His disconcerting gaze made her want to run back to the dressing room, however King’s frown pulled her forward.
“Sherri said you wanted to talk to me?” She trained her gaze on King.
“I want you to get your bags packed; you’re going with Colton. He’s a friend of mine that I trust will keep you safe. After your current two-week schedule is up, I’ll take you off permanently. Staying with Colton will provide a reasonable excuse of why you’re no longer stripping.
“But how am I going to pay you back?” Vida protested.
King shrugged. “You have already made me a nice chunk of change. Two more weeks of your dancing and six scheduled lap dances should cover my costs.”
Vida swallowed. The dancing made her sick to her stomach, but the lap dances were the worst; she had to become physically close to the men. King charged the men twice the usual cost of his other girls, but they still chose Vida if she was there.
“I’ll pack my bag.” Vida cast a look at the stone-faced man before turning away, happy to be leaving the club, yet reluctant to stay with King’s friend. She was unhappily aware she had no choice in the matter, though.
* * *
“Make sure you have her here for her shifts.” King took a drink of his whiskey. “You sure you don’t want one of the girls to give you some relief before you leave?”
Colton shook his head, almost instantly regretting his decision. He was going to be living with a beautiful woman that was off limits and he hadn’t had one in three years.
It was a mindfuck that he didn’t need or want.
Chapter 2
Vida watched as Colton unlocked the door to his apartment. She was still trembling from the ride from King’s club. She had never ridden on a motorcycle before and his snapped, “Hold on tight”, had startled her when she had gingerly put her arms around his waist.
Colton put her bag down by the door. He then moved through the apartment, opening and shutting doors before coming back and picking up her bag.
“There’s only one bedroom and since I’ve only slept on a twin bed for the last three years, you can take the couch.”
“I can sleep on the couch.” Vida would sleep on the floor as long as it was outside of the Purple Pussycat. The club had four bedrooms and each one was shared by three women. If one of the women she was sharing a room with decided to have company and there were no private rooms available, she would bring her guest back to the shared bedroom. Vida had walked into several situations that had been too embarrassing for words before she could tactfully leave the room.