One thing was for sure; Breaker was very, very good at cards. I watched the way his eyes darted around the table, taking in the minutest reactions of the players around him. He kept his drinking to a minimum while the rest of them got hammered, and before I knew it, he was sitting with a decent pile of cash in front of him like it was nothing at all. I found myself tightening my grip on him protectively as I saw the way the rest of them were looking at him. They were suspicious, thinking he was counting cards or cheating in some way. I was glad to be on his lap, glad I had him between me and the rest of the people in the room.
I recognized one or two of them, but that was no surprise—the walls of the station were usually plastered with the faces of guys we were attempting to take down, and I was certain that at least a couple of the men I was with tonight had been arrested at some point. I did my best to commit their faces to memory, my eyes flicking around the room as I tried to figure out where I’d seen them before. I made internal notes of their distinguishing features and of what they called each other, hoping that it might come in handy if I needed to identify any of them again.
Maybe none of them had a clue of what was happening elsewhere in the club. That’s what I told myself, anyway. They all seemed so…garden–variety bad guy. The type who might steal your wallet but feel a little guilty about it later, the ones who were only in the crime world because that’s what they knew to be free and easy. Honestly, I had to tell myself that they couldn’t have known, because the alternative—that they did, and were fine with it, or just didn’t give a shit—was too much to bear. And I was quite happy living in that little reality, until one of them leaned over to Breaker and made a comment.
“How much was she?” He nodded in my direction. I hated the way I was spoken to here—no, not spoken to, spoken about. People discussed me right in front of my face, and it was getting harder and harder to keep my lips pursed and not demanded a bit of respect from these assholes. I replayed Breaker’s words in my head—play it cool—and drummed my fingers on his back to let him know that I wasn’t happy with this.
“Uh, ten grand,” he replied, distracted by the cards in his hand. There was a murmur around the table, and I couldn’t figure out if it was because everyone thought he had been ripped off or because I had turned out to be a pretty good deal.
“How much would you take for her? For a night?” The man continued. He leered at me, down the front of my dress, and I fought the urge to shift it up so he wasn’t getting a show.
“She’s not on the table, my friend, sorry,” he replied, and I could feel the arm around my waist getting tighter. This was pissing him off.
“Not on the table, maybe, but in bed, right?” The man tried again, getting a laugh from around the table.
“She’s mine,” Breaker replied. His tone was ice cold, and he didn’t even acknowledge the other man’s presence with his gaze. I eyed the man angrily—at least he hadn’t been around on the night I’d been sold. The thought of any of these men getting their hands on me was enough to make my skin crawl.
“Five grand, one night, that’s all I’m asking,” the man shifted his chair closer, as though that was going to make Breaker more amenable to his proposition.
“I said she’s mine,” Breaker replied. His voice was quieter than before, but it had taken on a sharp edge.
“Oh, she your girlfriend, is she?” The man teased, and I felt something burst in my chest. I didn’t know why that was my turning point, but it was, and I didn’t want to be spoken about that way. I caught Breaker’s face in my hands, turned it towards me, and planted a kiss on his lips.
It lasted a couple of seconds, but it was enough time for me to flash back to the first time we did this, in that bathroom the day before. My heart fluttered at the memory, and Breaker stroked his thumb across my waist, making me shiver. When I pulled back, I stared at him for a moment, before laying my head on his shoulder. I glanced over at the man, who had tightened his lips into a thin line. Yeah, how do you like that, you asshole.
Breaker turned back to him, eyebrows raised, apparently as surprised as I was that that had just happened.
“Yeah,” he confirmed at last. “She is.”
And just like that, the conversation about me was over. They didn’t respect me on my own, but they knew how to respect possession. And I now knew how to use that to my advantage.
The game went on, and Breaker finished up with a pretty impressive pile in front of him. He scooped up all his winnings and stuffed them in his pockets, offering a shit–eating grin to the rest of the men around the table.
“Pleasure playing with you, gentlemen,” he remarked, and I hopped off his lap so he could get to his feet and we could get out of here. He put an arm around my waist and guided me out, and I couldn’t help but remember how soft and sweet his mouth felt against my own.
As soon as we were out in the club again, I felt a pair of eyes on us. I mean, that had been the entire night, to be fair. It seemed like my subservience to Breaker was some kind of novelty that no–one could get over. But this was different. There was someone watching us, and not just because I was the latest talking point in this place.
I glanced around, and my eyes landed on the culprit. A woman was standing up against a doorway that led out of the main section of the club, and she had been staring at us since we left the gaming room. I checked behind us, to see if there was someone there who might have caught her attention, but nothing. She was looking at us, no questions asked.
“Breaker,” I leaned over to him, letting my lips brush against his ear so it would look to anyone observing us like I was whispering sweet nothings to him.
“I see her too,” he confirmed. “I know her. I don’t think she’s good news.”
The woman didn’t take her eyes from us as we made our way across the club and towards the door; hanging around past our welcome would only attract suspicion. The way she watched us was so calm and casual, as though she didn’t have anything to fear in this place. Well, that made one of us. Maybe she was part of their group, but I felt like any woman here was going to face an endless pile of harassment and aggressive flirtation. She was pretty, too, a few inches taller than me with deep black hair pulled back into a bun at the top of her head. Her features were sharp, and the only make–up she wore was a slash of coral lipstick across her mouth.
We reached the door, and I shot her a look out of the corner of my eye. I knew she sensed me taking her in, and I didn’t want to give too much away, but I needed to commit her face to memory. It felt like one of those things that might come in handy later down the line.
Finally, Breaker and I were back out on to the street. I inhaled a deep lungful of air and extracted myself from his grip, letting out a sigh of relief.
“Jesus, I couldn’t get out of there soon enough,” I muttered. “Come on, let’s get back to your apartment so I can get out of these fucking shoes.”
A few minutes later, we were standing in his place, and I was gratefully peeling off my dress and climbing into the shower. I had to admit, it had been kind of exhilarating to fool everyone like that. I had never done undercover work before, and I had just infiltrated a criminal’s den without getting caught out. I felt like kind of a badass, I had to admit.
I finished up and slipped into a large t–shirt, climbing into the bed and letting out a yawn.
“So, what did we find out today?” I asked. That was the cop in me: always wanting forward momentum. I needed to know that this was going somewhere, otherwise I would find it hard to justify the fact that I was still hanging around with an asshole like Breaker.
“Not much,” he admitted. “But they haven’t figured out that we’re playing them, so that’s a start.”
“Where do we take this next?” I wondered, and he shrugged.
“We go in again, but this time, I get Thad by himself. Maybe try and convince him to give me a job there or something.”
“You think you could manage that?” I widened my eyes. “But he might ask you to…you know, do something with the women there.”
“Have to get your hands dirty to collect evidence,” He reminded me. “You did good today. I’m surprised a cop like you could play so dirty.”
“I’ve got a lot riding on this,” I replied. I glanced down at my hands. I didn’t know why, but that moment reminded me of my father. I wondered how far he’d gone to do what he thought was right? I didn’t want to think of all the shit he must have done, all the lies he must have told, all the assholes he must have appeased to get what he needed to see justice done. He’d probably be proud of me, though he’d also want me to wear a pair of sensible shoes and put a damn jacket on. I felt a little lump at the back of my throat as I thought of him. I always did, even though it had been a while since it…happened.
“What’s up?” Breaker frowned at me, and I realized I must have been sitting there with quite the face on. I shook my head.
“Sorry, nothing,” I replied. “Come on, I’m starving, and I’m pretty sure you’ve got enough winnings there to buy us something good for dinner.”
“Agreed,” he nodded, and grabbed one of the takeout menus sitting in the kitchen drawer.
We ate, and ended up sitting on opposite sides of the bed, watching TV. The signal was crappy and we could only get a channel which seemed to solely show comedies from the seventies, but I didn’t mind. It was comforting to indulge in something easy like that after the tension of the day had dissipated.
I found my eyes drifting shut as I sat next to him, and I looked down at the covers– they were still strewn with pizza boxes, and I rolled my eyes and went to move them.
“You ready to sleep?” Breaker stretched and stood up. “Come on, I’ll help.”
I watched as he tidied for me, and I felt a little flutter in my chest. This man—this man who’d purchased me only a couple of days previously—was swiftly turning out to be one of the kindest, most thoughtful men I’d ever been with. That was a depressing indictment of my love life, no doubt, but I had to admit that I was beginning to…not fall for him, exactly, but there was something beyond the solely professional going on here by now.
I tucked myself under the covers as he stripped off his shirt and slipped into the bed next to me; I could smell him, the sweet scent of his aftershave curling around me comfortingly. Part of me wanted to push myself back towards him, to feel the weight and heat of his body against mine, but that was the last thing I needed. I was already playing at being his girlfriend, so the lines were blurred enough without me making them even harder to distinguish between. I closed my eyes and told myself to get some sleep. It seemed like the stress of the day had exhausted me, as it only took me a few minutes to drift off completely.