Leaning on the bar, I sipped my soda. My lunchtime shift at Stilettos had gone pretty well, and bonus, I hadn’t fallen on my ass or anything. Also, the clientele had been feeling generous. A good thing, since I was meeting Trent in about an hour. I’d called him after the broken window incident, and confronted him. He denied it, but his word wasn’t exactly good. And since the surveillance footage didn’t catch a clear shot of who broke my window, I had no proof. Something had definitely been off with him, though. I mean, more than usual.

I told him I had some money for him and he wanted to meet as soon as possible. Hopefully, five hundred dollars would send him on his way. It was definitely more than he would have had in a while. It was more than I’d had as well. I made sure we were meeting in a public place. I refused to be alone with him, especially after our last face to face. And no way did I want him anywhere near our house and Tilly.

Now I just had to kill some time. I glanced across the club, Steph was at one of the tables on the other side of the bar, giving a lap dance. The suit she was with came in almost every day. He didn’t look at anyone else, didn’t want anyone else, paid for his dance, tipped Steph huge, then left.

His eyes were dark, almost black, and intense. His suit was expensive, but somehow, he still managed to look dangerous. He had tattoos on his hands, and he always kept them at his sides. He never tried to touch her. Steph looked as defiant, as she always did when she danced for him, but she also looked flushed. Flustered. I’d seen her give many lap dances since I started here. She was good, she always was. But when she danced for Mr. Suit, she gave him everything, like she was trying to push him, get him to break out of that stoic exterior. I don’t know, I just knew there was a hell of a lot more going on there.

Steph was a few years older than me, and what I did know about her life, was that it hadn’t been a picnic. She was divorced, the relationship had been bad, and she wasn’t in a hurry to date. She never talked about Mr. Suit, and she’d made it clear she didn’t want to when I broached the subject.

I was fine with that. She didn’t want me in her business and I didn’t want her in mine. Still, I couldn’t help waving Reggie over from behind the bar. “Who is that guy? The one that comes for Steph nearly every day?”

His brows rose. “You seriously don’t know?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I did.”

He leaned in. “Tomas Mendoza,” he said, under his breath, like he was afraid the guy would hear or see his name spoken across a loud, dark, and smoky room.

I chuckled. “Christ, Reggie, the guy isn’t Voldemort.”

Reggie straightened and shook his head. “Smartass.”

“What? Is he a hitman or something?” I said jokingly.

Reggie leaned back in. “Not that I know of, though, people that cross him have been known to disappear. The guys into a lot of bad shit. His businesses, on the surface, look legitimate. My guess, money laundering. He’s a dealer, a loan shark, a pimp. You name it.”

I glanced back across the room at him. “You know this for a fact?”

Reggie looked a little sheepish. “Well, I’m not sure if he’s pimp, or a dealer, or about the money laundering, not for sure. I mean, I’ve heard stuff, but I don’t have any proof. I do know he loans money, though, because my stupid cousin Dwayne borrowed from him when he got into some trouble. The family had to bail him out when he couldn’t pay it back. It was either that, or one of Mendoza’s men were going to pay him a visit, and you know what that means.”

I frowned. “What?”

Reggie leaned in again. “Broken legs, concrete shoes…horseheads in your bed.” He shook his head. “Steer clear of him, Willa. The guy’s trouble,” he said, then went to serve someone.

Christ. I didn’t know if Reggie was being dramatic, but either way, he had nothing to worry about on the front. I didn’t plan on going anywhere near Tomas Mendoza. I watched as the song finished and Steph stepped back. Mendoza stood in front of her, looking down at her. Steph seemed to freeze, her lips parting. They stayed motionless like that for several tense seconds. Mendoza’s hand jerked at his side and he started to lift it, like he couldn’t resist any longer, like he had to touch her.

My breath caught in my throat.

But then he dropped it again, slid a stack of bills from his pocket and placed them on the table beside them, turned, and walked out.

Steph let out a shaky breath, her eyes not leaving him until he’d disappeared out the door.

I quickly looked away. I didn’t want her to catch me watching her. Clutching my bag to me, I headed for the door. I had my own drama to deal with.

One of the bouncers walked me outside and hailed me a cab. This was normal protocol for the dancers at Stilettos, but Raul had beefed up security after we’d heard a dancer in the city went missing. She wasn’t the first. Someone had been targeting strippers and prostitutes the last couple of months. We’d heard about it, of course—it was on the news—but so far, whoever was going after these girls had stuck to a certain area in the city. I guess we all felt kind of safe here in Brooklyn. But the latest girl, Fiona, used to work for Raul before she left for a bigger club, and he was taking it hard.

I waved goodbye to him and headed to the diner where I’d asked Trent to meet me.

It was close to four. I’d told Fay I had to pick up a few things after my shift and she’d agreed to watch Tilly after school for me until I got home.

My cab pulled up and I climbed out. I was dreading this exchange. I didn’t even want to breathe the same damn air as that bastard.

I was heading for the door, when someone grabbed my arm. I spun around and came face to face with Trent.

“Let’s go,” he said, and towed me toward a car.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” I tried to pull my arm free.

“I have a friend watching your place. Tilly’s with that old bitch next door, right?” he said, making his threat impossible to miss.

I had no choice but to go with him. He shoved me into the passenger side, climbed behind the wheel, and took off. Trent couldn’t afford a car; I had no idea who this one belonged to. Christ, it was more than likely stolen. “Where are you taking me?”

“We need to talk,” he said, sniffing and dragging his hand across his nose.

His hands were gripping the wheel, but I didn’t miss that they were shaking. “You’re using again,” I said.

He glanced at me. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He chuckled. “So you can get me drug tested and get yourself off the hook. I’m not using. I’ll admit I like a drink or two, but I haven’t used since I went to prison.”

I didn’t believe him, but if I got child protective services involved and he was telling the truth, it could hurt me, and if Trent decided to go ahead and try to get Tilly back… Well, it could put a spotlight on me and Tilly—on what I was doing to earn money.

“Where are we going?” I said, trying to keep the fear out of my voice.

“Like I said, somewhere we can talk.”

“We can talk here. Stop the car.” Oh yeah, I could hear the panic in my voice now, which meant he could too. I took several deep breaths in an attempt to regain my composure.

He ignored me and carried on. We drove for a while, twenty, maybe thirty minutes, until we were in some part of the city I didn’t recognize. He stopped the car. There were a lot of shipping containers, like the place was used for storage or something. The buildings around us looked to be rundown or empty.

I turned to him. “What are we doing here? Take me the hell home.”

Trent made a tutting sound. “You don’t get to call the shots, Willa, not anymore. You always did hate that you couldn’t control Rebecca, that she chose me over you.”

I stared into his eyes, at the hatred that was clear to see. Well, I hated him as well. Anger fired though me. “You’re the one who got her addicted to drugs. You’re the reason she’s dead, the reason Tilly doesn’t have a mother anymore. It’s your damn fault, Trent.”

His hands shot out and he fisted my shirt, shoving me against the car door behind me. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Do the right thing for once in your shitty life. Walk away, leave Tilly alone. She’s better off without you, we both know it, Rebecca knew it…that’s why she kept trying to leave you. It was the drugs that kept her coming back, not you, never you…”

“Shut up!” he screamed in my face.

Real fear churned in my gut. Before he’d come into my home and wrapped his hands around my throat, I’d never been scared of Trent. I needed to pull it back, and fast. I was in the middle of nowhere, with a man who hated me, who was clearly unhinged or back on drugs. Baiting him wasn’t clever. I needed to play nice, but I’d despised him for so long, had made no attempts to hide that fact, that I knew he wouldn’t believe it, even if I could stomach trying.

“My money, give it to me,” he yelled.

He still had hold of me, his grip on me painfully tight. I reached down, found my bag, and grabbed the cash. “Here.” I thrust it at him.

He stared down at it and his eyes went wild, furious. “What the fuck is this?”

“Five hundred,” I said, forcing myself not to shrink back when his rage-filled eyes came back to mine.

His face was so close that when he talked, his rancid breath washed over me. “It’s not enough,” he gritted.

“It’s all I have.”

He jerked his head back and forth. “That won’t do, Willa, not at fucking all.” He shoved away from me. “Get out of the car.”

I scrambled out, ready to run, but Trent was too quick and grabbed my arm.

“Let’s go,” he said.

I tried to wrench out of his hold. “Where? Where are we going?”

“Like I said, it’s not enough, so you’re going to have to give me something else.”

I tried to pull free again, a sick feeling hitting me so hard, I thought I might throw up. “You touch me, and I’ll fucking find a way to end you, I promise you that,” I said, fighting him with every step we took.

He sneered at me, his face a mask of disgust. “Dumb skank, I’d rather jerk off for the rest of my life than touch you. But if you want to keep Tilly to yourself, the price is a fuck of a lot more than what you just gave me.”

“What the hell do you want?” I wasn’t even trying to hide the panic in my voice anymore.

“I promised some people I’d provide a waitress for their poker game. The guy likes skinny whores like you,” he said, smirking at me.

“No goddamn way.” I fought harder.

He shook me, so hard my teeth rattled. “You don’t mind dressing slutty, you’re used to taking your clothes off, right, Willa? You won’t have any trouble doing it now.”

Oh God, he knew; he knew I was stripping. I kicked him in the shin, wrenched away, and took off in the opposite direction.

“You leave now, I’ll be paying Tilly a visit tomorrow,” he called out.

A cry tore from me, part rage, part fear, part resignation. I stopped running and gripped the chain-link fence beside me, gasping, trying to catch my breath, trying to calm myself down. I had no choice but to do this. For Tilly, I had to do this. Trent wasn’t bluffing, I knew he wasn’t, and I wouldn’t put her through that. “Just serving drinks?”

He didn’t answer my question and came up beside me. “I thought you’d see it my way.”

He tugged me back to the car, grabbed my bag, and held it out to me. “I take it you have something decent to wear in here?”

I did. Fay had made me several costumes, and I’d worn one for the first time today. A tiny stretchy mini dress covered in pink sequins. I snatched the bag from him. “Let’s get this over with.”

I got back in the car and he took us farther into the yard with the shipping containers. He drove until we came to a large building at the far end. There was a light going upstairs, and several other cars parked below. Trent climbed out and I did the same, following behind, scared out of my mind.

I glanced around, making note of the name on the building. If I had to make a quick escape, if I needed to call for help, I needed a way for that help to find me.

“Hurry up,” Trent barked, and motioned me inside, pointing to a restroom. “Get changed and be quick about it. And fix your damned hair and put on some lipstick or something. You look like shit.”

I rushed into the small dingy room and quickly changed, feeling sick to my stomach as I fixed my makeup and slipped on the skyscraper heels Steph had given me. I had no idea what to expect, what I was walking into, and my heart was racing so fast, I thought I might pass out.

When I came out, he gave me a quick onceover then shoved me toward a set of stairs. We headed up to the second floor. All I could think was, this can’t be happening. It had to be some horrific nightmare.

My heart was in my throat, my pulse racing, my knees weak. Trent was a low piece of shit, so whoever these people were, if he was involved with them, they were more than likely criminals, shit, gangsters, dealers, God only knew what. Things could go very bad for me, very fast, but I couldn’t see my way out of this.

We reached the door where two goons were standing outside. They were wearing suits and earpieces, and hard expressions. Trent turned to me and hissed, “Do what the fuck you’re told in there or you’ll pay, understand?”

I wanted to stab him to death with the four-inch spiked heel of my shoe. Instead, I nodded. I knew a desperate man when I saw one.

He said I was here to waitress. I could do that, I could switch off, pretend I was somewhere else…with someone else. I’d been doing that every night at Stilettos. I could pretend.

“I’ve brought the entertainment,” Trent said to the goons.

One of the suited men spoke into his Bluetooth headset, then opened the door. Trent shoved me in first, and I stumbled before I caught myself. I quickly scanned the room. There were six men sitting around a table, playing poker. It was dark, smoky, and I could only see half of them; the rest were sitting in shadow. I recognized one of the men instantly. Tomas Mendoza. And by the way his eyes sharpened on me, I knew he’d recognized me too.

Would he tell Steph he saw me here? Raul? If they found out I was here against my will, I knew all sorts of hell would rain down. Raul was protective of his girls, like a father figure. He knew Jude…if he found out…

“I told you I’d come through,” Trent said to one of the men, chest puffing up. “She dances at Stilettos.”

The other man’s gaze slid to me, moving over my face, my body, slowly, so damn slowly, and it took everything in me not to cover myself with my hands. The guy was creepy as hell.

“What do you think, Donny?” Mr. Creepy asked, glancing at the man beside him.

Donny had pasty skin and flesh-colored lips, and his eyes were so pale he seemed colorless, as if he could blend into a beige wall like a chameleon. Donny nodded.

The other guy did the same to Trent. I had their approval.

Tomas was still watching me, as was the man beside him. He was good looking; dark hair and eyes, skin a deep olive, his gaze steady, curious. His suit jacket was over the back of his chair and he had the sleeves of his dark shirt rolled up his forearms. I’d never seen him before, but the way he was looking at me, made me think he recognized me. Maybe he’d seen me dance.

That was more than a little disconcerting.

“What’s your name?” Mr. Creepy asked.

I stood tall, trying not to look as terrified as I felt. “Magenta,” I said, using the ridiculous stage name Raul gave me.

The guy looked at Trent then back at me. “He paying you to be here, Magenta?”

Trent had his hand on my back and his fingers bit into my skin in warning. I had no idea what I was supposed to say, so took a wild stab and hoped for the best. “Yes.”

The guy nodded, then his eyes shifted back to Trent. “Amazing. You got something right.”

Trent took a step toward him. “Can we discuss…”

“No,” Mr. Creepy said. “We’ll talk when I say so. Now get the fuck gone.”

Trent look flustered, but also relieved, and barely spared me a glance as he scurried out like the vermin he was.

“Don’t just stand there, pinky,” the creep said, making me jump. “My glass is empty.”

There was a bottle of whiskey sitting on the table, so I walked over and carefully poured him a measure. The asshole’s hand slid over my hip as I did this, and it was hard but I managed to keep the revulsion from my face, forcing a smile as I moved out of reach and worked my way around the table.

I needed to get out of here. The sooner the better. Would they buy an excuse? Maybe I could pretend to be sick? Would the goons at the door follow me if I said I needed a bathroom break? I had to try. Ten minutes. I’d wait ten minutes, then I’d tell them I needed the ladies’ room.

I did my best not to make eye contact, God, even look at the men in the room. I’d topped up Mr. Dark and Handsome’s drink. He didn’t touch me, and I appreciated it. I moved to the next, then the next, one of the guys who had been shrouded in shadow. The bottle clinked against his glass as I poured.

“Thanks,” he said, low and rough.

I jolted when I recognized the deep grittiness in that voice, at the instant awareness that sent shivers through me. My gaze shot to his face, and I froze solid.

Jude.

His brown gaze bore into me, intense, alert. He was dressed like Mr. Dark and Handsome beside him. Suit pants and a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his jacket draped over the back of his seat.

“You playing, Jack, or are you gonna eye fuck the help all night?” the creep said, unfreezing me.

Jude gripped my hip possessively and smirked at the other men in the room. “You’ve got enough of my money,” Jude said, which I guess meant he was Jack. “I’m out.”