Wild Dirty Secret(12)

She yanked her arm out of my hold. “Whatever you want.”

“Sweetheart, if you’d said that twenty minutes ago, I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“What’s keeping you?” She crossed her arms. “Leave already. I don’t give a shit.” Her youthful hurt and depression were all too real now, like she knew better than to expect people to stick around and was pissed at herself for hoping it would be different.

“Come on. We need to get you out of here before Henri shows up.”

She winced at the mention of his name. “I’m not going with you.”

Her wide, slanted eyes shimmered with fierce anger and glassy hope. What a curious mixture of courage and vulnerability. She was a flower disguised as a weed, but Henri was a bulldozer; he wouldn’t care at all.

“We don’t have time for this.” Running out on the party like that would have been bad enough, but stealing from a client? We were both a lesson waiting to be taught. “Let’s go.”

“Why, so you can take me to him?”

Christ, was that what she thought? Here I was trying to save her scrawny behind. But she wouldn’t know that. Like she said, I was just a dirty prostitute. Another person who’d tried to convince her to spread her legs. Hell.

“The truth is,” I said, “I’ve been thinking of getting out myself. Well, now I’m out. Maybe you did me a favor, kid.”

“I’m not a kid. And isn’t he going to be angry at you too?”

“Favor may have been too strong a word.” More like pain in the ass, but I doubted she’d appreciate that, and I didn’t feel up to chasing her in my heels again. “I’m going to try to keep you safe.”

“Try?” she asked.

“I can promise you this: you’ll be as safe as I am.” I hoped that would be enough. “Now, how the hell do we get out of here?” I didn’t want to risk going back out into the lobby, where the men from the party or even Henri’s men could be waiting, but the doors all had the hotel card locks on them.

Ella produced a plastic card attached to a cord. “Got it covered.”

She’d picked the security guard’s pocket. Lovely.

“Come on.” I grabbed the master key from her and used it to get us into a stairwell. From there we’d go to the basement and then out onto the street. And then I’d make the call I had been avoiding for so long.





Chapter Seven





Luke handed me a couple of pills and a glass of water.

I swallowed the plain white tablets, clearly prescription stuff. “You poisoning me?”

“Depends. You gonna tell me who did that?”

His tone was casual, but beneath the sweatpants and T-shirt, his lean body was taut with tension. At least he’d finished cursing, which had gone on for a few minutes after seeing my bruise.

I handed back the glass, and he set it on the bedside table. I watched him pace from my perch on his bed. His face had a light layer of scruff and bloodshot green eyes, courtesy of a long day at work. And it was even longer now, thanks to me.

I turned away, unable to see the worry in his eyes. Instead I watched Ella through the crack in the doorway. She sulked in the living room, poking at the pile of papers and takeout containers on the coffee table. “I don’t suppose you’ll believe me when I say it was her who hit me.”

“Oh, sure. She just lifted the cash from my jacket in there, so assault’s not a stretch.”

My mouth firmed. Luke knew exactly why I’d brought her here, but he was going to make me say it. “She’s just a kid.”

His look was dark, hinting at a deeper turmoil. “Only a few years younger than you.”

“Look, can you keep her safe or not?”

He laughed softly. I loved his laugh, but this one was ugly and sad, like a sneer had deflated.

“What an interesting question. But perhaps you can define the parameters for me.”

Something hurt in the vicinity of my chest. Probably my wound acting up at the reminder. He was mocking himself, making a joke of his inability to protect a girl under his care.

Eight months ago, I had been shot during an undercover operation led by Luke. He blamed himself, although the department considered the whole operation a success. They’d been trying to expose Luke’s partner as a dirty cop, but they had managed to shake out an arms deal in the process.

Luke was a decent guy and a good cop, so of course he’d feel guilty for an injury sustained by his informant on his watch. But the truth was, he didn’t have a claim on me. As much as I might have stupidly hoped, he never had.

He knelt in front of me and gently pressed an ice pack to my face. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”