TARA

I spent the rest of the day helping Crystal clean. It's getting well into the evening now, my back is aching, and all I smell is the lemon-scented disinfectant, but at least I got the chance to meet all the girls working here.

As the day drew on I lost much of my apprehension about this place. Everyone seems so happy, content even, despite how messed up the whole arrangement actually is. But I don't think the girls are forced into prostitution here. At least not by the old biker Bear, who is actually the friendliest of them all. Though I think that might be because he's very clearly very senile. Once it stopped raining, they even showed me the makeshift cat shelter they have out back, where at least twenty cats are housed.

But the more I learnt about this place, the more certain I am that Samantha never came here. Else she would stay put, and she'd certainly call me.

I almost pull out the photos of her more than once, but decide against it each time.

Tommy hasn't been back since this morning, and it's almost opening time now. And with each minute that passes my apprehension grows. Can I even seduce him? I didn't do such a great job of it this morning, judging by the fact that he just left. Do I even want to keep trying? The mere idea wakes a flurry of butterflies in my stomach, which make it even harder to breathe. And even though I'm not sure the answer to that is actually a yes, I do want to try. And that feeling is so foreign it scares me.

"Go on, get some sleep," Crystal says. "I'll tend bar tonight."

"That would be great, thank you," I say. "I could use a shower though."

Apart from bringing in my suitcase, and getting a room to myself on the top floor I haven't even changed since last night. And if I want to give this seduction thing a go, I should make myself look presentable.

"Lola will show you," Crystal says and waves her over.

I follow Lola to the back, but instead of taking me up the narrow, wooden staircase that lead to my room upstairs, she keeps walking down the hallway.

"You can use the shower in Tommy's apartment, since there's no hot water upstairs," Lola says once she notices I'm not following.

"You sure?" I manage to say past the lump in my throat.

"Oh, it's fine, he doesn't mind. Besides, he won't be back for a couple more hours at least," Lola says over her shoulder, already opening the door at the far side of the hallway.

"I don't know…I don't mind a cold shower," I mutter, not moving from my spot. I'm all sorts of scared right now, of him walking in, seeing me naked, and this reaction is one I understand. The voice telling me it's exactly what I want is the weird one, the one I never heard before.

"Come on, don't worry about it," she says and waves me over, flipping the light on in Tommy's apartment.

I'm out of arguments, so I approach the door, even though my heart's beating fast and hard in my throat.

Tommy's apartment is actually just a large room, with a king sized bed at one end, a desk and closet at the other, and a cracked leather sofa in the middle. The bathroom is small, but looks clean enough.

"You can use my shampoo and stuff," Lola says and points to a row of pink bottles at the edge of the bathtub. "Hang on, I'll get you a clean towel."

She scoots past me out of the bathroom and opens the closet, pulls out a greyish white towel and hands it to me.

I grab it automatically. The fabric is rough against my skin and this suddenly feels like the worst idea I've ever had.

Lola smiles at me and then I'm alone in this stark room, which looks and feels unoccupied despite heaps of Tommy's clothes piled on practically every available surface. His smell hangs faintly in the air, and I'm not sure how I even recognize it since I only met him twice. But it's unmistakable.

A couple of skimpy dresses are lying around amid his clothes, along with a couple of bras and thongs. The sight of them jerks me back to reality.

Hoping Tommy's the guy who'll treat me right is a pipe dream, borne of my desperate desire to find my sister as soon as possible, and this weird hormonal reaction I have to him. He's hot. I don't deny that. But he's also a VP of an outlaw biker club. So he's dangerous by default. He's just someone who will use me and discard me like he does all the other girls in here. And I need that like I need to get raped again.

* * *

TOMMY

I enter the Lounge from the back, since I'm in no fucking mood for company tonight. Shade had me riding with him to two meetings. The first was about sorting out what happened to the gun shipment that never came yesterday, and on the second we were checking out whores. If I never have to look at another tweaked-out trafficked whore again it'll be too soon. It's exactly the reaction Shade wanted from me, so I kept my mouth shut. That didn't stop him from telling me over and over that the club's about to earn that 1% patch all over again until I wanted to puke.

I managed to record some of the conversations, and I need to get that shit encrypted and stored somewhere safe. I feel rotten to the core for betraying the MC with these recordings, and the pictures I take of the meetings and the gun shipments, but I need to secure a way out for myself that won't leave me in some shallow grave.

I curse as I enter my apartment and hear the shower running. Whichever of the girls is in there is going right back out tonight.

The tap turns off and the shower curtain flies open just as I enter the bathroom to kick whoever it is out.

But it's Tara staring back at me, her perfect lips forming an O as wide as her eyes. She's frozen in place, making no move to cover herself up. Nor should she. All the blood from my entire body rushes to my cock, making it so hard it hurts. I was right about this body she's hiding under those huge clothes. Her full breasts are so large they'd spill right out of my palms if I held them, and the nipples are tiny flesh colored buds that probably taste sweeter than candy. I'll never understand how she manages to hide that luxurious bosom under that funky plaid shirt.

Her waist is tapered, her hips flaring out, topping the smooth line formed by her shapely thighs and her perfect calves and feet. Her pussy isn't shaved, and the hair there is only a shade darker than her long, wet hair that's falling down the sides of her face, hiding the nasty undercut, and framing her perfect face the way it's meant to.

I knew she was interested, and there's no fucking way I'm kicking her out. All other pressing business can wait.

I take a step towards her and she blinks hard, finally waking from her trance.

But she shrieks as I reach out to take her hand, and flies out of the tub so fast, she'd fall if I didn't catch her. She's screaming, clawing at my arm as she drags herself away from me, glaring at me like some wild, caged animal. Her insane reaction shakes loose memories of my mom screaming exactly like this at my father. Painful memories I didn't even realize I still had. But if I release her she'll fall all the way and hurt herself.

So I pick her up, and push her against the tiles. But I have no urge to release my cock and fuck her up against this wall until she screams in pleasure. I just want to hold her, comfort her, wipe that terror from her eyes with a soft kiss.

"Relax, I won't ever hurt you," I say through gritted teeth, and I mean every word.

She stops thrashing, but she's breathing hard, her eyes fixed so firmly on mine, I'm sure she sees right past all my bullshit the way no one ever has. So I know she sees the truth of what I just told her.

And my cock is trying to convince me that I only startled her, and that she wants me to fuck her now that she's calmed down, but my brain knows better. Sure her eyes are softer now, inviting even, but terror and hatred is still mixing in them. And I realize beyond a shadow of a doubt that those are the only things holding her together, that she'd break apart into a million little pieces if she didn't have that.

So I release her, take a few steps back. She's still staring at me, motionless, only the lightening shooting from her eyes telling me she's alive. I still want to pick her up, toss her on my bed, kiss and lick every inch of her until she's begging me to fuck her. Which I would, until she passes out.

But that magical dream is broken as she snatches her clothes off the sink, and bolts out of the bathroom, a photo falling from the back pocket of her jeans right before she disappears through the door. I almost call her back, tell her she dropped something, but that'd be too fucking weird after what just happened.

The photo's of a dark-haired, blue-eyed girl who looks eerily familiar, though I don't think I actually ever saw her. Her eyes have a haunted look to them, even though she's smiling. And I know that look. My mom had those same wounded eyes. I didn't think I remembered that either, but I do.

I toss the photo on the desk and start undressing for a shower.

The woman in the picture is probably Tara's lesbian girlfriend or something. That would explain her hair and clothes, and the sick fear she had of me touching her. And while that opens up a very enticing set of girl-on-girl fantasies, that shit is never fun when they actually hate guys. Maybe I could get Simone and Ava in here later to act that shit out for me. Maybe that'll wipe these painful memories of my mom from my mind.