Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Jasmine

This is the first time I’ve ever gone to a guy’s place. I never go home with tricks because it’s not safe. But I don’t get any creepy vibes from this guy. Quite the opposite. He seems like the Boy Scout type—honorable, a do-gooder. Tonight he rescued me like I was a stray puppy he found wandering the streets—a battered and bruised puppy.

His apartment is neat and orderly, kind of surprising for a guy. The living room furniture looks homey and comfortable. The kitchen is clean. I don’t see stacks of dirty dishes hiding in the sink or dirty pots sitting on the stove.

“You live here alone?” I ask Liam as he returns from seeing his friend to the door. Maybe there’s a girlfriend or wife who keeps the place looking so nice.

“Yeah. It’s just me. Why don’t you go sit on the sofa and relax while I get some food going? You’ll be more comfortable.”

I do as he suggests. I’m tired and sore, and the thought of sitting on something clean and comfortable sounds like heaven. The living room furniture looks new. There’s a low wooden coffee table sitting in front of a dark gray sofa and beside the sofa is a matching oversized armchair. The TV hanging on the wall across from the sofa is huge—I didn’t even know they made them that big now. It’s the kind of place where you can kick back and relax.

I walk over to the sliding glass door that leads out onto a balcony. Liam’s apartment has an amazing view of Lake Shore Drive and just beyond that, Lake Michigan. Moonlight glitters on the water’s surface. And all around us, the city skyline is lit up.

“What would you like to eat?” he asks me.

I jump, not realizing he’s standing behind me. “What are my options?” I’m not used to having a choice.

He thinks for a moment. “I can make you a salad, a burger, a ham and cheese sandwich. I’ve got cans of soup and chili in the cupboard. Boxed macaroni and cheese. I’m pretty sure I’ve got a frozen pizza. Several kinds of cereal. Eggs and bacon. Does any of that sound good?”

My stomach growls at the mention of food. The only thing I’ve had to eat today was some Ramen noodles around noon. “I’d love a burger.”

“I’ll get right on it.”

As he turns to go, I say, “Wait. Can I use the little girls’ room?”

“Of course. Sorry. I should have thought of that. It’s just down the hall, the first door on the right.”

“Thanks.” I watch him disappear back into the kitchen, and then I head down the hallway. The bathroom is easy enough to find. It’s the only room on the right. Across from the bathroom is a rather spacious bedroom. The bedroom door is partway open, and I can make out what looks like a king-size bed with a dark comforter on it. There’s one other door at the end of the hall—probably a spare bedroom.

I step into the bathroom and flip on the light switch. The bathroom’s clean, too. And really nice. Like everything’s good quality—the cabinets, the mirror, the tub/shower area with glass doors and what looks like expensive tiles on the walls. The shower head hangs down from the ceiling—I’ve never seen that before. It looks expensive. It looks like he does all right for himself.

I really need a shower to wash this grime off my body, but right now hunger is gnawing a hole in my stomach. So, food first, then a shower.

After I pee, I wash my hands with hot soapy water. I avoid looking at my reflection in the mirror for as long as I can before curiosity gets the best of me.

Damn. I look like a wild animal. My hair is wrecked and matted with blood at my left temple. There are numerous bruises on my face, and my left eye is a bit swollen. Liam’s paramedic friend put band-aids on the worst of my injuries. I’m officially a hot mess.

As I stare at myself, I feel sick. Who knows how long it’s going to take for these injuries to heal? I’m not going to be able to work like this because make-up can hide only so much. Tony’s going to lose his shit when he sees me. I bring in a lot of money for him, and benching me for a week, or even a few days, is going to cost him a lot. He doesn’t like being out money. He won’t care one bit that it’s not my fault. He’ll blame me, not the trick. He always does.

Feeling queasy, I sit on the side of the tub to catch my breath and think. I work hard to stay on Tony’s good side, because he’s not someone you want to piss off. I’ve seen what he does to the girls he’s mad at. But there’s no way I can hide my face from him.

My growling stomach reminds me that food is coming. Sighing, I leave the bathroom and head for the kitchen, where I find Liam standing at the stove. His attention is on the food in front of him, so I have a few moments to study him. Damn, this guy is hot. He’s tall, at least six feet, maybe taller. The short sleeves of his T-shirt are molded to rock-hard biceps, and I’ll bet he’s leanly ripped all over. I remember how he handled the trick in the alley—he had the guy down on his knees in seconds, squealing like a stuck pig. He definitely knows how to handle himself.

He must have heard me, because he glances back at me and smiles. His brown hair is short, his beard and mustache trim and neat. His eyes are the color of dark chocolate.

He looks me over and frowns. “Why don’t you sit down at the table before you fall? We’ll eat first, and then we’ll talk.”

“Talk? Who said anything about talking? I’m just here for the food. That’s it.”

I sit down at the table because he’s right, I am about to fall down. My muscles are jittery and weak. He hands me another glass of water before he returns to the stove to check on the burgers. There are plates already on the table, as well as silverware and napkins.

The food is sizzling in the pan, and the smell is incredible. My stomach starts cramping in anticipation.

Liam disappears into what must be a pantry, returning a moment later with a bag of sour cream and onion potato chips. He tears open the bag and sets it on the table in front of me. “Feel free to snack on these while the food is cooking.”

I don’t need an invitation. I pick up the bag and dump some of the chips onto my plate. “Thanks.”

“What do you want on your burger?” he asks. “Cheese? Anything else?”

“Yeah. Cheese. Ketchup and mustard, too, if you have it.”

He makes up two plates and carries them to the table. “What would you like to drink?”

“What are you having?”

“A beer.”

“I’ll have the same.” When he eyes me skeptically, I ask, “What?”

“Have you got some ID on you?”

I glance down at my body. “Do I look like I’m carrying ID? Anyway, I told you I’m legal.”

He doesn’t look convinced. But he goes to the fridge anyway and grabs two bottles of beer, twists off the tops, and brings them to the table.

He sits, and we both start eating in silence. Thank god, because I don’t want to talk. And if he’s got anything else on his mind, he’s tough out of luck. I’m hungry and tired and sore all over.

I scarf the burger down in minutes—god, that tastes good—along with more chips and the beer.

When we’re both done eating, Liam says, “Let’s go sit in the living room. It’s more comfortable in there.”

“Okay, but first there’s something I’ve got to do.”

“What’s that?”

“Take a shower. Do you mind? I feel gross.”

* * *

Liam hands me a Navy blue bath towel, a washcloth, and a clean change of clothes—his clothes—a pair of gray sweats and a black sweatshirt with some kind of martial arts logo on it. “They’ll be a bit big on you, but it’s all I’ve got.”

“They’ll do,” I say.

“And you’ll find a new toothbrush in the cupboard.”

“Thanks.” And then I slip into the bathroom and lock the door.

I turn on the shower, and almost immediately the water is hot. Jeez, at the house where I live, it takes like five minutes for the water to get hot.

I strip off my tattered clothing and step under the spray. There’s soap in here and a bottle of shampoo. I lather up the washcloth with soap and scrub every inch of my skin until it’s practically raw. But no matter how hard I scrub, I can never feel clean enough.

I don’t have the right shampoo for my hair, so I just wet it and do the best I can to finger comb the tangles and wash out the blood near my left temple. Then I scrub my entire body once more and rinse off under scalding water.

When I’m done, I dry off and then wrap my hair in the towel. I can’t bring myself to put my underwear back on, so I pull on the sweatpants commando style. Then the sweatshirt. I grab the hundred bucks in my skirt pocket and slip it into the pocket of the sweatpants. I find a brand new toothbrush right where Liam said it would be and brush my teeth.

I feel almost human again.

When I return to the living room, I find Liam sitting on the sofa. I sit on the armchair.

He grabs a wad of cash off the coffee table and hands it to me. “As promised, here’s four hundred. You can count it.”

I take the money and do a quick count. All twenties. Four hundred bucks. I fold the bills in half and shove them into my pocket. “You’re serious?”

He nods. “I told you I’d pay for the rest of your night. You’re still on the clock, right?”

Shit. He was serious. “So, what do you want for your four hundred bucks?” Hell, for four hundred, a trick can have anything he wants. Anything.

Liam’s eyes widen. “What do I want? How about nothing, other than we talk?”

“Just talk?” I don’t believe him for a second. People don’t do favors for other people without wanting something in return. “About what?” Hell, maybe he gets off on sex talk. It wouldn’t be the first time a trick paid me good money to talk dirty to him. Nothing surprises me anymore. I’ve seen it all.

“Let’s talk about you, for starters,” he says. “Are you really twenty-one?”

“Yes.”

“When’s your birthday?”

“March 28.”

“How long have you been working as a—” He breaks off.

“A prostitute? It’s okay. You can say it. Since I was seventeen.”

He frowns. “How did you—”

“That’s easy. My mom’s a hooker, too. She does tricks for drug money. So is my older sister, Angel. My mom started pimping Angel out when she was sixteen. It’s how she pays the bills.” I glance out the balcony doors at the night sky. “I knew it was only a matter of time before my mom tried to pimp me out, too, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let my own mother do that to me. So I ran away at seventeen, and soon I started doing tricks on my own. But it’s rough out there for girls working alone. Then I met this guy—Tony. He found me on the street, offered me his protection, food, and a place to live. I’ve been with him ever since. He’s pretty fair as far as pimps go. He lets me keep some of the money. If you don’t piss him off, he treats you good.”

“How much does he let you keep?”

“About fifty a night. Enough for new clothes once in a while.”

“Is this really the life you want for yourself?”

I frown. “There’s nothing else I can do. Working fast food doesn’t pay enough to survive on.”

“You don’t have to sell yourself, Jasmine,” he says. His voice is gentle. Not judgmental or condescending.

I scoff. “I have no education, no training, no skills to speak of. There’s nothing else for me.”

“There could be. I take it you didn’t finish high school?”

“No. I dropped out near the end of my junior year.”

“You could get your GED. After that, you could get a job or even go to college if you wanted to.”

I laugh. “Sure I can. Who’d want to hire a prostitute?”

“You can get out of the life if you want to. I’ll help you.”

“You’re crazy,” I say dismissively.

He doesn’t crack a smile. “I’m serious. Just say the word, and I’ll get you out.”

“You don’t get it. If I don’t return before dawn, Tony’ll come looking for me, and when he finds me, it won’t be pretty.”

“He won’t find you. Besides, I’d never let him—or anyone—hurt you.”

“It’s not me you should be worried about.” I gesture to my face and body. “He won’t mess up the goods because it’s bad for business. But as for you—” I point to him. “He’ll make you wish you’d never heard of me.”

“I’m not afraid of your pimp, Jasmine.” Liam doesn’t even bat an eye.

“You should be. He’s ruthless. And he’d never stand to lose a girl. Especially not one who makes as much as I do.”

“Do you want out?”

“Of course I do. But get real.”

“I am. I said I’d get you out, and I mean it. I’ll protect you from Tony, and I’ll help you get on your feet.”

I shake my head. “You have no idea what you’re saying.”

His expression hardens. “Oh, trust me, I’m not afraid of your pimp.”

Despite knowing better, I find myself desperately wanting to accept his offer. But it’s ridiculous. It’s way beyond dangerous for him—he’d be putting his own life at risk. He wouldn’t stand a chance against Tony and his muscle. “I can’t let you do this. Tony’ll kill you.”

Liam reaches for the remote control and turns the TV on. He brings up YouTube and starts a video. He points at the screen—it’s a fight ring in a huge indoor stadium. The title across the top of the screen says INTERNATIONAL KRAV MAGA CHAMPIONSHIP.

I watch a few minutes of the video as two men beat the hell out of each other in the ring. Their actions are mesmerizing—so fast, so brutal. Liam fast forwards to the end, when one of the men is declared the winner. The referee grabs the winner’s wrist and holds the man’s arm up in the air.

The camera zooms in on the winner’s face as text scrolls across the bottom of the screen.

LIAM MCINTYRE

KRAV MAGA CHAMP

“Is that you?” I ask. I look from the guy on the screen to the guy seated on the sofa and back again. “Holy shit! That is you!”

He nods. “I’m a martial arts expert. I teach classes here in Chicago, at my brother’s security company. So, yeah, I’m not afraid of a pimp.”

“You might be able to kick ass, but no matter how big of a badass you are, that won’t stop a bullet.”

Liam doesn’t seem to be worried. “My offer stands. Just say the word, and I’ll get you out.”

I glance at the clock on the wall—it’s one o’clock in the morning. I either return to the house before six, or I don’t go back at all.

“Why don’t you think it over?” Liam says as he rises from the sofa. He disappears down the hall a minute, then returns with a pillow and a fleece blanket, which he hands me. “It’s late, and you should rest.”

He crosses the room to set the security alarm. “Don’t try to sneak out, or you’ll set off the alarm. If you want to leave, tell me, and I’ll drive you wherever you want to go.”

I nod. “Thanks. I have to be back at the house by six.”

He turns out the lights and leaves me alone in the living room. I’m exhausted, and the thought of stretching out on the sofa is irresistible. I drop the pillow at one end of the sofa and lie down, covering myself with the soft fleece blanket. I let out a heart-felt sigh. This sofa is more comfortable than my own bed.

As I close my eyes, I can feel the throbbing in my face—the cuts on my cheeks, above my left eye. My right knee still stings.

My belly is full, and I’m having a hard time keeping my eyes open. I should tell Liam to take me back now, but the chance to rest here a while, where it’s warm and comfortable, is more than I can pass up.

I can’t quit the game. I can’t let this do-gooder risk his own life on my account. He may think he’s invincible, but he’s not. Tony’s ruthless. He’ll exact revenge on both me and Liam if I try to leave the life.

I can’t do that to the Boy Scout. It wouldn’t be right.