I can’t fucking believe I’m sucking Raine Storm off.

Here I am, though, on my knees in front of him. It’s just work, I tell myself. I’ve done this a thousand times.

But not with him. Not to him. I wasn’t supposed to. Of all johns in the whole goddamn city, he was the one I never planned on doing, even if I need the money. Hell, I always need the money.

He’s an asshole.

He’s Ocean’s little brother.

And… I’m enjoying this too fucking much, as I feared I would.

Normally when I’m with a customer, my body’s numb. Frozen solid. Can’t get hard if my life depended on it. Oh, I know how to fake it, how to hide the fact my dick’s limp and my balls are trying to crawl up into my body. I can fake it with the best of ’em.

But something weird’s happening to me right now, to my body, as he trembles and gasps and comes hard, his release scorching my tongue through the condom. I’m holding on to his powerful thighs, the fine dusting of hairs there tickling my palms, his scent invading my senses, his voice making all those sexy noises, and heat is rushing down my spine, straight to my balls.

I’m getting hard while giving head to a guy, and I can’t for the life of me figure it out, or remember the last time it happened.

If ever.

Raine gives a low moan when I drag my lips over his mostly spent cock, then I release him and draw back to remove the full condom. Even limp, his dick’s impressive and sexy, and fuck stop it, Jason.

Tying the condom off without thinking, my hands used to this job, I lean back, trying not to shake.

It fucking scares me. This guy scares me. I shouldn’t like how handsome he is, shouldn’t notice how blue his eyes are, how strong his body is. I shouldn’t want him. I don’t get to want anyone. And besides, I never really have.

I can’t fall for johns. For guys. Can’t afford that, and I can’t trust guys anyway. Never trust anyone. That’s the only truth in my life, the only fucking constant.

So I wipe at my mouth and get to my feet, wincing as the bruises over my ribs flare with pain, and try to forget how sexy Ocean’s little brother is, and how my body seems to respond to him like a well-trained dog. I bet if he told my dick to get up and roll over, it would.

Jesus.

I leave him standing there as I look around for the trash, then locate one in the kitchen and get rid of the used condom. When I return to the small living room, he’s still in the same position, only his deep blue eyes have sharpened, losing the haze of pleasure that covered them before.

And they’re intent on me, a question in them.

Fuck that. I’ve paid back what I owed him, and now I really need to get out there and make some money, or Simon will have my ass handed to me.

“J,” he says, his voice hoarse, and it sends another hot tingle down my spine. Why the fuck is he hoarse? He was damn quiet as he came compared to other guys.

“Jason,” I mutter, unable to stop myself. “Not J, or Jase. Got it?”

Fuck, fuck! There, right there is the reason I should never, ever do Raine Storm. Because he rattles me.

Not because he’s hot as fuck, or even because he was such an ass to me years back, so then what?

Besides, since when do I hold grudges? Only against hot guys, apparently. One particular hot guy who just happens to be the beloved little brother of Ocean, and besties with Jesse Lee, the two people I count as friends, that I can count on if I need help. Although they have their own families now, and I… I’m beyond help.

“Jason.” This time Raine moves toward me. Shit, I waited too long to reply. “What’s wrong?”

Laughter bubbles up my throat, and I swallow convulsively. Wrong? What the hell is he talking about? “Nothing.”

Where the fuck’s my tank top? And my jacket. I need to get going.

He grabs my arm as I spot my black tank top by the sofa and bend to lift it. His grin is tight, and a groan escapes me at the pain flaring where he’s gripping me.

Instantly he lets go, and I stagger sideways into the sofa, jarring my ribs.

“Goddammit,” I grunt, the pain pissing me off. Let’s face it, it’s been a shitty evening.

Well apart from sucking Raine off.

God fuck, I need to go now.

“Wait a sec, are those bruises?” Raine is suddenly closer, crowding my space. “I thought it was a fucking tattoo.”

He’s lifting a hand to my neck, and I jerk away, before he touches me. I don’t even know why, but I’m damn sure if he does, I’ll crack and break.

You’re right, I think, it’s a tattoo. A tattoo of pain and violence, a mark of my life, a life unlike yours. But I don’t say anything, just keep backing away instead, as if he’s threatening to grab me and…

And what, hit me? Kick me?

Kiss me?

Not sure which would be worse.

“I gotta go,” I whisper, my tank top bunched up in one fist. “Gotta work.”

“Wait!” he calls as I turn blindly toward the door.

I open the door and hesitate on the threshold—not only of his apartment, but of something bigger, something that’s pulling at me like a promise, a light right beyond reach. I turn around. “What?”

“Your jacket.”

He tosses it at me, and I catch it. I also catch the glint of anger in his gaze, and a flash of heat that has me scrambling out the door and down the stairs before I can analyze it any more.

I have enough on my plate as it is—without adding Raine to the fucking mix.

Pun intended.

Pulling up the hood of the jacket, I hurry down the dark streets, returning to my side of town. Not that there’s a line dividing the rich from the poor, the good from the bad—but I know it when I cross it, I feel it in my bones.

I know I’m entering my haunts, the hunting grounds, cuz the spot between my shoulder blades starts to itch, and my muscles tense.

I’m the prey here, I’m the hunted, and I have to pretend I like the feeling. It’s familiar and well-worn like an old shirt. It’s taken the shape of my fears, and it clings to me as I wander down narrow back alleys, trying to spot my gang.

It became my gang the day Kaia died, and I found myself the oldest in our little group. The oldest and most experienced in just about everything, from whoring to living hand-to-mouth and avoiding trouble, so I took over.

Kaia was a harsh pimp.

She was also the mother I never had. Losing her was a heavy blow. Didn’t think anything could make it worse, although having Simon replace her managed the damn trick. Things went from bad to downright ugly the moment he stepped in and announced this was now his turf.

Simon Gomez should have sat and rotted in prison until he died. Not only did he beat up my kids just to show he could, not only did he bring in drugs and guns and his bored thugs into my territory, into my life, but he also tried to rape Jesse Lee years ago and smashed a bottle on Jesse’s arm when he fought back. My friend’s still haunted by that time, and I’ll never fucking forgive Simon fucking Gomez. For any of it.

But instead of rotting in prison as he deserves, Simon got out after a year for good behavior and thanks to his connections.

And made my life hell.

I don’t see anyone from my little gang as I trudge down the street where we usually meet up. Probably got customers and left with them. Worry for them grips my insides, like every time, even though they aren’t really kids, not anymore, and the risks they take are fewer than mine. At least they don’t deal with Simon, not if I can help it.

Taking a deep breath, telling myself to cut it out and think of my own troubles, I move to the road and choose a corner that normally sees lots of traffic. I’ve scored plenty of times there in the past, and the police don’t pass by so often.

The hollow feeling in my stomach ain’t just hunger, or the itch for drugs: Simon is waiting for his cut, and I’ve nothing to show for tonight’s activities except for more bruises and confusion.

I lean back against a brick wall façade and settle in for the wait. Damn, it’s cold. I wish I had a shot of brandy, or even better a joint to warm up a bit. Traffic is slow. Way too slow. Leaves me time to think.

About my gang. About my fears.

Not so many of my gang are left. Mikey skipped town, and so did Mia after Simon’s goons beat her up. I made sure of it. I’m sending my kids off, one by one, to a safe place, out of Simon’s long reach.

But I’m not done yet. There’s still Josie, Mayleen and Adam who’ve been with me forever—well, for the past six or seven years at least—and two new relatively ones, Sheena and Clary, who wandered here from Milwaukee last year.

So I’m working my lily-white ass off every day and night, and still it’s not enough. Since I’m splitting the money I make between Simon’s demands and paying the way for these kids to leave town, leave the state and land in a good place, a better place—a place Simon doesn’t know about—my plan isn’t moving as fast as I’d have liked, even with the kind donations of Ocean and Jesse Lee.

And speaking of the devil…

Well, not Simon, thank fuck—but Jesse Lee. He’s walking my way, and I can’t help a smile, despite my worries. Handsome as always, with his tanned skin and bright green eyes, sexy even in the conservative sports clothes he favors these days.

Not that I blame him for blending in. He has a different life now, a family, a steady job. He wants to leave his days hustling on the street behind.

Wouldn’t we all.

“You’re a hard man to find,” he says by way of greeting, and we bump fists. “I came here last night, but nobody knew where you were.”

“Yeah. Places to go, things to do. You know how it is.”

He shoots me a sharp look. “Everything okay?”

“Now why wouldn’t it be?” I keep my smile on, even if it’s curling at the edges like burning paper, but this boy can see right through me. He’s known me for a long time—almost as long as Mayleen and Adam.

I remember Jesse Lee when we first met, many years ago. I’m barely older than him, but he’d looked like such a kid to me, tall and gangly, his eyes wide and full of fear. He never fit here, in the gutter.

Unlike me. I was born to this. He wasn’t, and I knew it from the moment I laid eyes on him he had to get out.

I also remember him covered in blood in that back alley when Simon Gomez smashed a bottle on his arm. That’s when I knew I’d do anything in my power to send him away from this life.

“You’re avoiding me,” Jesse says quietly, jamming his hands in his pockets. “Why?”

“Don’t be stupid. Of course I’m not avoiding you,” I lie, patting my back pocket for my smokes. Seems as if I’ve run out. “So what’s up? Tell me all about your pretty little family and the guys at Damage Control.”

Diversion. It’s my middle name.

“They’re fine. Soul Stain, the tattoo group from Chicago, are coming over for an event soon. Did I tell you about that?”

I shake my head, listen with half an ear as he talks about the event, his friends, his job, and wonder. Could I do that someday, too? Leave the streets, live a normal life and have nobody realize by looking at me who and what I was before?

Doesn’t seem possible from here where I’m standing, with the stench of car exhaust and piss in my nose, the cold biting into my skin.

“Jason.” He has that exasperated tone in his voice that tells me he’s called my name more than once. “Hey.”

“What?” I focus back on him.

“I said, now you tell me what’s going on. How’s the gang? Is everything okay?”

His bright eyes are concerned. Jesse’s a cool guy. I had a crush on him, back then. Hit on him a couple of times, until I realized he was one hundred percent a ladies’ man. No bisexual curiosity, and in any case, even if he’d ever been bi-curious, it didn’t look like he’d want to try anything with me.

Still, he’s been a steadfast friend all this time.

So again I lie—the only way to protect him, make sure nothing disturbs his perfect bubble of happiness. He deserves it. “Everything’s fine. Honest, man. Nothing’s changed.”

Well that last bit is true. Nothing has changed for the past two years. It’s all fucking shit.

He nods, maybe believing me, maybe not. “You’d tell me if you needed my help, right? Promise me, Jason.”

Suppressing a sigh, I nod. “Promise.”

Christ, lying sucks.

Then he digs into his back pocket and produces a small wad of bills, bound with elastic. “It’s that time of the month.”

And like every month, I take the money, swallowing down my pride. “Thanks, buddy. Appreciate it.”

It sucks. I’m not a charity case. I’ve been working all my life, ever since I can remember. If I didn’t desperately need that money… On some days, it makes all the difference between getting the shit beaten out of me, or just a kick to the ass out of Simon’s club.

As it is, this time the money in my pocket ain’t enough to pacify Simon, and knowing it comes out of Jesse’s salary makes me sick to my stomach—but it is something, and so far tonight, I’ve made nothing.

They have no clue, Ocean and Jesse Lee. They think I use the money to rent a room and for my daily expenses. They have no idea that it’s all siphoned into Simon’s bottomless, drug-laced pockets, the leftovers saved to send my kids away to safety.

The urgent need to get on with that flares up. “Look I gotta go.” I give Jesse Lee another smile, because dammit, he hasn’t given up, and he keeps coming through for me. “Thanks again for the help.”

He doesn’t let me get off the hook that easily, though. He hauls me to his side in a one-armed hug. “Be careful, my friend.”

It makes my eyes sting and my heart ache. “Don’t you worry about me, okay?”

And I move away before I break down and confess to him what a big fucking mess my life has become.

Walking away from Jesse, a vise around my chest, I struggle to get my mind back into the game. I shrug off my jacket, tie it around my waist and run a hand through my hair, wishing I had remembered to refresh the black eyeliner.

But hey, it’s a toss-up anyway. Some guys like me looking pretty, others rugged. I’m pretty tall and although I’m skinnier than my height implies—and not by choice—I’m not a pretty twink.

Most guys seem to dig that, lucky for me. Especially the shorter, weaker ones. They like to break me, make me submit. Gives them a kick, I guess.

Whatever it takes.

Christ.

Cars roll by. Sometimes a window rolls down, a guy checks me out. Some women, too, but when they take in my nail polish and gayliner, they usually do a double take and drive away.

Fact is, I go with women, too. I don’t discriminate. Money is money, and I fake it anyway, so why not? I may be into guys, but not the guys who usually pick me up.

Predictably, though, women rarely stop. They have a good instinct for these things, as it turns out, even on nights when I’m not wearing any makeup or even earrings or nail polish, like I am tonight.

In fact, tonight nobody seems inclined to stop, and my thoughts wander back to Raine, how he appeared in the alley like an avenging angel, saving me. How he took me to his home, how his rough voice commanded me to strip. The sounds he made as I sucked him off.

The anger in his gaze as I left.

Curling my hands into fists, I bow my head and wish time would crawl by faster.

I wish someone would pick me up and stop this vicious circle in my mind.

Finally a car slows in front of me, a shiny new sedan, a brick-red Chevrolet Impala.

I know my cars. If you stand on street corners as long as I do, cars are practically all you see, and you have to somehow pass the time.

The window rolls down and the driver appears, a clean-shaved guy in a suit and tie, giving me a once-over. He’s okay-looking, maybe even handsome, though he doesn’t hold a candle to Raine.

Focus on the work, Jason.

The guy is still looking, so I smile, push off the wall where I’ve been leaning, and saunter over to him. “Evening.” I put my hand on the roof of the car and lean in. “Wanna go for a ride?”

As it turns out, he does.

Shocker.

“Climb in,” he says, and I don’t need to be told twice.

“Sure thing.” I walk around the car as he unlocks the door for me. I slip inside. Smell of leather and air-freshener and the heater blasting warm air on my skin.

Nice.

At least I’ll be out of the fucking cold for a while, and the more I give Simon, the less likely he is to lose his shit again this week.

Fingers crossed this john isn’t into pain games, and I’m set.