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He thinks he’s good, and I’ve gotta give it to him, when it comes to being a sadistic son-of-a-bitch, he’s a real wi
Years of experience flow through my veins. Retribution is my specialty.
I discreetly flick away the toothpick and paste on a chaste smile as he reaches the booth.
“Everything okay?” I ask as he hovers at the end of my seat, his forehead beading with sweat, his gaze darting around the room.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“Leave?” A twinge of panic unfurls in my belly, and I shove it down with a sip of gin. I’m the one in control here. Not him. “I can’t. I’m working, and you haven’t even started your drink.”
He grasps his glass and downs the contents in two large gulps.
Big mistake, Da
I release a girlie laugh, the sound obnoxious to my ears. “You’re eager.”
“I guess I can’t help myself. You’re a beautiful woman who’s nervous about her first gig. My gentlemanly nature means I’m obliged to ease your burden.”
I take another sip, a tiny one to ensure I remain level-headed. “And how will you do that?”
“By being your first customer.”
Ding, ding, ding. Jackpot.
“Oh.” My response is shy, but no matter how hard I try, I still can’t get my cheeks to heat. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
He reaches out a hand. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“Wait.” I can’t leave. Not yet. The drugs need time to start their numbing goodness. “We haven’t discussed payment.”
He reaches for his back pocket and pulls out a wallet. “Name your price.”
“That depends on the service.”
He retrieves a stack of bills and places them on the table. “Is this enough for a few hours?”
My lips part as I pretend to be gobsmacked by his generosity. In reality, I’m scrambling to stall. “Yeah.” I slide my fingers over the money, drag it toward me, then slip it into my clutch. “That’s more than enough.”
“Come on, then.”
He raises his hand again, and I stare. It’s still too soon. Too quick. If I leave now, I’ll have to think on my feet to slow down this sequence, and although I’m shit-hot and shiny when it comes to this, I’d prefer not to take u
“Can I finish my drink first?”
His mask of charismatic charm falters with the narrowing of his gaze. “I don’t have all night, sweetheart.”
“Right.” Fuck you. “Of course not.”
I slide from the booth, ignoring his offered hand, and lead the way outside into the chilly night air. “Maybe I should buy a bottle of something to celebrate.” I spin back to face the door, only to be stopped by his large frame sliding in front of me.
“I know you’re nervous, but we don’t need it.” His rush for a fix has risen to fever-pitch. His eyes are glazed, his cheeks flushed.
“It’ll only take a second.” I sidestep, and he shadows me.
“I’ve got whatever you need back at my place.” He walks forward, and I’m forced to retreat. One step. Two.
I raise my hand, placing it on his chest as I plant my feet. “I’m sorry, I’m going about this all wrong. We haven’t even discussed logistics.” Stall, stall, stall. “I have a room within walking distance. It’s small and simple and does the job. I’d just prefer if we had something to break the ice when we get there. Maybe a bottle of wine or some whiskey. I know a lot of body parts that taste better when moistened with liquor.”
Those plump lips smile down at me, and I see the expression for the threat it is. “With you, sweetheart, I don’t want booze.”
He grabs my hand in a tight grip, and it takes all my strength not to knee him in the groin like my intuition demands.
“Now, come on.” He tugs me along the footpath, toward the parking lot. “My car is down here.”
“We don’t need to drive. My hotel is literally at the end of the block. It’s an easy walk.”
“I’m not interested in walking.” He tries to charm me with a playboy sparkle in his eyes. “And my place is warm and clean. Not some seedy hotel on the wrong side of town.”
If I get in his car, we won’t make it to his Lake Oswego home. I’ll be driven to an isolated industrial area where he’ll try to beat me, rape me, then leave me battered and barely breathing on the side of the road.
No, thank you, Da
“I appreciate the offer, but I insist on my hotel.” I pull my hand away. “Neutral ground, ya know?”
His nostrils flare, and I wonder if he’ll drop this bullshit act and drag me, hair first, to his getaway car.
“It’s decent accommodation,” I exaggerate with a flash of my pearly whites. “You’ll like it.”
“It’s the car or nothing.”
My chest tightens. Fear and anxiety collide in a mass of tangled emotions. I can’t throw away my one and only shot at this.
At him.
But I can’t get in that car either. Not now. Not even with the looming promise of his Rohypnol-induced impairment.
Confinement in a small space would mean my fun would end and his would begin. I’d lose my advantage and he’d gain the upper hand. His strength against my strategy.
I have to stick to my plan or let him walk.
God, I don’t want to let this fucker walk.
“Then I guess this is where we part ways.” My face falls, and I don’t need to fake a stricken expression. I’m on the verge of heartbreak, devastated at the thought of this guy getting away, not only with what he’s done, but with the information I desperately need. “See ya, handsome.”
I give him a timid finger wave and the chance to demand a refund before I turn in the direction of my hotel. I take slow steps, and his pursuing footfalls don’t hit my ears. He’s not following. I guess he’s too frustrated to even ask for his cash.
Shit.
Four weeks of meticulous preparation disintegrate into painful splinters, each one penetrating my skin to exacerbate the failure.
This guy deserved what I had pla
Anger boils my blood, the potency so rich my throat tightens with the need to scream. I can’t turn back.
I can’t.
Getting in his car is too dangerous. The drugs might not kick in for another twenty minutes. Maybe more. He’d easily overpower me. I’m not stupid enough to believe my years of self-defense, martial arts, and boxing classes could save my ass in a confined space, up against a deranged psychopath.
The knife in my boot is insurance, but I’m not infallible.
I grind my teeth to the point of pain as I trudge the eight-minute walk to the sleazy, pay-by-the-hour hotel, with its flickering red ‘Vacancy’ sign.
What the hell am I going to do?
I may never get another chance to find Jacob. I’ve failed. Again. And not only on a personal level, but all those women Dan has abused won’t get a vicarious taste of vengeance.
How have I messed this up?
Was the meticulous preparation not enough?
Should I have watched him for longer?
Could I have tried harder?
Risked more?
Fuck.
I pull the hotel key from my clutch and stride to door fifteen—the last room in the single-story complex. I slide my key into the flimsy lock, preparing to lick my wounds in private, when the noisy crunch of asphalt alerts me to a vehicle entering the parking lot. My heart kicks. A sixth sense sends goosebumps erupting along my arms. Or maybe it’s optimism.