Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Liam

I’m not surprised I can’t sleep. There’s a stranger sleeping on my sofa—not just any stranger, but a prostitute. This poor girl doesn’t belong in that life—no one does. She acts like it’s a choice, but how can it be a choice when she has no other options?

I meant what I said. I’ll get her out of that life. I’ll help her get on her feet and become self-sufficient.

After tossing and turning in my bed, I finally get up and head to the kitchen for some water. As I pass through the living room, I see that she’s asleep. It’s five o’clock in the morning. If she’s got to be back by six, we’d better leave soon.

I sure as hell don’t want her to go back, but it has to be her choice. “Jasmine?”

She sits up, her dark eyes wide with panic.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to startle you, but if you’re going back, we should leave soon.”

She yawns. “What time is it?”

“Five.”

She groans and lies back down, her dark curls spilling across the white pillowcase. “I don’t want to go back,” she admits in a quiet, sleepy voice. “But I’m afraid of what will happen if I don’t. And I sure don’t want to put you in danger.”

I clamp down on the impulse to reach down and touch her, to reassure her and comfort her. But she’s already made it clear she doesn’t want to be touched. I don’t blame her. No one should ever touch her again without her explicit permission.

“You don’t need to worry about me, Jasmine. Or yourself, for that matter. This is a secured building with security guards on duty twenty-four-seven. No one’s getting in who shouldn’t be here. Why don’t you go back to sleep? We’ll figure out our next steps in the morning.”

I can just make out the indecision on her face. “It’s okay,” I tell her. “You’ll be safe. You have my word on it.”

I continue on to the kitchen to get a glass of water. After I down that, I head back through the living room. She’s so still, I wonder if she fell back to sleep. Part of me wants to let her sleep, but part of me knows I shouldn’t. My opinion isn’t the one that counts here.

To my surprise, she glances up at me, her gaze filled with worry.

“Have you decided?” I ask her.

With a groan, she presses her face into the pillow. “I don’t want to go back,” she says, her voice muffled by the pillow. “I’m just afraid of what will happen when I don’t.”

My chest tightens painfully. No one should be afraid to choose their destiny. On impulse, I run my hand over the top of her head, brushing her hair back from her forehead. I love the feel of those bouncy curls against my palm. “You don’t have to be afraid,” I tell her. Sweetheart. I don’t add that last bit even though it’s on the tip of my tongue. There’s something about this girl that brings out my protective instincts. “I’ll take care of everything. Now go back to sleep.”

Once I’m back in my bed, I manage to sleep until my alarm goes off at eight. I moan as I stretch my arms and shoulders. I probably got a whopping three hours of sleep last night. At least it’s Saturday, and I don’t work on the weekends. It looks like we’ll be busy, though. She’s going to need everything because right now she has nothing. Not even the clothes on her back.

* * *

Jasmine is still sleeping when I head to the kitchen to make breakfast. While I’m cooking eggs, I formulate a mental checklist of all the things she’s going to need—clothes, shoes, toiletries, and whatever else girls need. As soon as she’s feeling up to it, I’ll take her shopping.

Just as I’m about to go wake her for breakfast, I spot Jasmine lurking in the open doorway. “Good morning,” I say.

“Morning.”

“Did you sleep okay?”

She shrugs. “I’m sore all over, but yeah, I slept okay. Your sofa is really comfortable. It’s way better than my bed at home.”

“Where is this house, and who lives there?”

“It’s on the south side. It’s a former boarding house, so there are lots of bedrooms and bathrooms.”

“How many girls live there?”

“Right now, I think twelve. Plus the guards.”

“Does Tony live there, too?”

“No. He has a nice place in Lincoln Park. I’ve seen it a few times.” She shrugs. “Sometimes he takes a few girls home with him for the night. I guess it’s a perk of being the boss.”

“Do these girls get a say?”

She shakes her head. “Not if they want to walk the next day.”

I start plating the food. “Ready for breakfast? Have a seat.”

When she walks into the kitchen, I notice that she’d brushed her hair. It’s not quite the same wild mess it was last night. Even with all the bruises on her face, she’s stunning.

Jasmine sits at the table. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Nope. Food’s ready.” I set our two plates on the table. “What would you like to drink? Milk? Orange juice? Coffee?”

Her beautiful eyes light up. “Coffee for sure. I can’t function without it. Caffeine’s the only drug I need. Can I have some orange juice, too? I haven’t had orange juice in years.”

I pour coffee for both of us and set our cups on the table, along with a bottle of French vanilla creamer. Then I pour her a glass of OJ and set it in front of her. “You’re going to need some things—clothes and shoes, for starters. Do you feel up to going shopping this morning?”

She pales and shakes her head. “I can wear your clothes, if you don’t mind.” She grasps the front of the sweatshirt she borrowed last night. She reaches into her pocket, withdraws the cash I gave her last night, and lays it on the table. “Here, this is yours.” She glances at the clock on the microwave. It’s eight-thirty now. Her six a.m. window has passed. “I guess I won’t be needing it after all.”

“You keep it,” I tell her. “You’ll need money for clothes and other stuff.”

“But I didn’t do anything to earn it.” She side-eyes me, looking a bit wary, like I’m going to demand a blow job right here and now in exchange for the money.

I smile. “Keep it.”

“I don’t take charity,” she says quickly.

“Then consider it a loan.”

She laughs. “Yeah, right. When would I ever be able to pay back a four-hundred dollar loan?”

“When you’re on your feet and have a job you love. You can repay me then.”

Her posture eases. “Okay.” She reaches for her fork and takes a bite of egg. After she swallows, she looks at me from beneath long dark lashes. “I won’t forget about the money.”

I want to reach out and pat her shoulder, encourage her, but I have to remind myself not to. She’s had a lifetime of people touching her. I assumed she’d want to get some clothes, but that doesn’t seem to be a pressing need for her right now. I think the fear of going out in public outweighs the need for clothes. She’s right—she can wear my clothes as long as she needs. For a moment, I consider going out and doing the shopping for her, but I really don’t want to leave her here alone for a significant length of time. She’s anxious enough as it is.

After we finish breakfast, Jasmine offers to help me with the dishes. She clears the table, and I rinse off the plates and put them in the dishwasher. Then she crashes on the living room sofa while I go take a quick shower.

Just as I turn off the water and step out, my phone rings. It’s Jason. He’s probably calling to check on Jasmine. “Jason, hi,” I say as I dry off.

“How’s the patient? Did she get home okay last night?”

“She’s doing better.” I refuse to call wherever she was staying her home. “And for the record, she stayed here with me last night. She’s not going back.”

Jason is quiet for a moment. “What’s the plan, Liam?” He pauses a moment. “Am I wrong in thinking she’s a sex worker?”

“You’re not wrong. But I’m going to help her get out of that life. I’m going to help her get on her feet.”

“I see. Well, that’s admirable, but I don’t think it’ll be as easy as you might think. If any of those cuts get infected, let me know.”

“Will do. Thanks, Jason.”

“Hey, Liam.”

“Yeah?”

“Watch your back, man. Her pimp’s not going to just let her walk away without a fight.”

“I know. I’ll be careful.”

* * *

Once I’m dressed, I return to the living room and find Jasmine standing by the balcony door looking out at the street below. “You doing okay?” I ask.

With a gasp, she practically jumps out of her skin. “I’m fine.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” I notice her gaze is directed down at the street and not at the picturesque lake view off in the distance. “Are you looking for something?”

She shrugs. “Just watching.”

“He doesn’t know where you are, Jasmine. You’re safe.”

She glances at me, and I can tell she’s not convinced.

“You’re going to need clothes,” I tell her. “Are you sure you don’t want to go shopping?”

She shakes her head as she returns to watching the street. “I don’t want to go out.”

“Are you afraid someone will recognize you?”

She nods. “If word gets back to Tony, I’m screwed.”

I know she’s scared, and I don’t want to push her.

I sit on the sofa, hoping to give Jasmine some space. She wanders around the small living room and ends up at my bookcase, where she skims the shelves of hardcover books. Most of my books are digital, but I do have a few dozen print books that are special to me.

I observe her as she checks out my collection of sci-fi books, a few self-help books, and my brother Jamie’s military thriller novels in hardcover. “Do you mind if I read one of these?” she asks as she runs her index finger along the spines.

“Go right ahead. My brother would love it.”

“Your brother?”

“Yeah. Jamie McIntyre. My brother wrote those thriller novels.”

She pulls one of the books out and skims the cover. “You’re kidding. This is your brother?”

“Yep. He’s a former US Navy SEAL. Now he’s an author.”

Jasmine cracks open the book to the first page and starts reading as she walks over to the big armchair and takes a seat. She draws her bare feet up beneath her, then covers herself with the fleece blanket.

“You like to read?” I ask.

She looks up and nods. “When I was a kid, books were my escape. Every day after school, I’d go straight to the library where I’d stay until dark, doing my homework and reading. The librarians were really nice to me. They’d bring me sandwiches and fruit.” She smiles wistfully. “The library was my safe place, and books helped me forget about what was waiting for me at home.”

“No child should fear going home.”

Her eyes fill with tears, but she doesn’t say anything more. Instead, she turns her attention to the book in her hands.

While she’s reading, I watch part of a football game on TV, keeping the volume down low. I keep one eye on the game, and the other on Jasmine. After a while, I notice she’s dozing off. I’m not surprised. She must be exhausted from all the stress.

If she’s going to be staying here with me for the time being, she needs someplace better to sleep than on the sofa. I’ll give her my bed, where she’ll be more comfortable. She’ll also have some much-needed privacy. While she’s napping on the armchair, I get up to change the sheets on my king-size bed.

When the bed’s ready, I return to the living room and gently wake her up. “Why don’t you go lie down on my bed? I just put clean sheets on it.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t take your bed.”

“Sure you can. You’ll be more comfortable in there, and you’ll have more privacy.”

She sits up and closes her book. “Liam, you’ve done so much for me already. I’m not kicking you out of your own bed.”

“I don’t mind. I have a spare bedroom, but it’s currently set up as a workout room. I’ll see about getting a twin bed in there. I’m sure there’s room.” I nod toward the bedroom. “Go on. Go try it out.”

She seems more than a little reluctant as she follows me to the room and stares at the bed.

“Go ahead,” I tell her. “Lie down and rest.”

She lays her book on the nightstand and sits on the edge of the bed, bouncing once. She smiles. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, but you’re welcome. Get some rest.” I switch off the bedroom light and close the door behind me so she can nap in peace.

I return to the living room and continue watching the game, but my attention is on the young woman sleeping in my bed. I hardly know her, and yet I can’t help but be impressed. She’s made a brave choice, and I’m committed to helping her see it through.