Chapter 1

"He painted over her scars with every color he could find until she lost them in the setting sun."

—Atticus

Six months later

Penny

In a city where everywhere there were gorgeous twenty-somethings that had been nipped, tucked, plucked, and polished within an inch of their lives, I was the odd woman out.

A cluckety-cluck bird only with a shapelier figure. Yes, I was a dancer like the rest of the girls I'd passed in the hallway, but I'd never been one of those cracker-eating ballerinas that barely ate five hundred calories a day.

That's why as I was standing in the large office, two men dressed to the nines in suits gawking at me, I felt more awkward than I had in my entire life.

"Pretty Penny. I wonder what you're thinking," the older of the two assholes snorted.

If I had a single additional person say to me ‘a penny for your thoughts' for the rest of my life, I was likely to go ballistic. No, I knew it for certain. As I stood in front of the two assholes who owned the club, I had a feeling the one leering at me the most was about to pop the question. Or maybe he believed now that the two of them had me in their crosshairs he could demand something more… personal of me.

That made my skin crawl.

"It was five minutes," I insisted. Maybe at this point since I'd been given two prior warnings for being late, I should grovel at their feet, but I couldn't do that. For all the things that had been stripped from me over the years, I refused to allow my self-esteem or my humility to be taken away. My mama hadn't raised me that way.

"Five minutes too late, girlie. You were told what would happen if you chose to be late again," the main guy who was sitting on his fat ass puffing on a cigar huffed, a gleam in his eye. His voice sounded like the thousands of drinks and tobacco products he'd indulged in over the years had taken a toll. Of course, he'd also obviously had his nose smashed more than once. Sylvester was the biggest prick I'd ever met, his greasy hair matching his oily stench that always created knots in my stomach.

"What a shame," Rocco Morelli stated with a gleam in his eye. "And we were going to place you on the auction block tonight."

"Maybe we still should." Sylvester was seriously thinking it over. "A price needs to be paid."

The big, fat pig was serious.

The auction block. Sex trading for big dollars was huge in Vegas. So far, I'd been able to avoid being lured or forced. Maybe now was the right time to stop working here after all. The gossip around the club was that a few girls had disappeared, never to be seen or heard from again. I could find a job working at Burger King or maybe a supermarket.

"My car wouldn't start. Not that either one of you care about the crap I go through." Because it was a piece of shit. Oh, hold on. Now I was whining? To hell with them. This had to be karma. Maybe it was shouting at me to get the hell out of town.

"She's got a mouth on her," Sylvester said, grinning. "That would fetch us a nice price."

"I could help tame her," the younger dude tried, even daring to walk closer. "But she would make an excellent addition. Granted, not as young as we like and our clients prefer, but I think they'll make an exception." He wrapped his hand around my throat, lifting me onto my toes.

Oh, fuck, no. At first, I'd ignored the scuttling of rumors, the girls warning me to keep out of their crosshairs for fear I'd disappear one day. Up to a few days before, they'd remained mostly professional around me. Now I wasn't certain of anything.

Sylvester grinned. "Yeah, it would be fun to rip away all that innocence she tries to fake. We know better, honey. You were made to be a fucking whore."

Rocco Morelli dared to cup and squeeze my breast. Maybe my impetuous actions would get me in serious trouble one day, but I refused to allow some slimy asshole to fondle me. I popped him in the face with enough force his hold was broken, his massive body tossed back by a few feet.

Sylvester moved his heavy body shockingly fast, backhanding me with enough force I was tossed against the wall. My ears were immediately ringing as I tried to get my balance. The two men were laughing.

"She's a bitch, Sylvester. We don't need her. I say we get rid of her."

I threw my hand out in response, doing everything I could to stand without falling over. Tears sprang to my eyes, fear clawing my throat until I was suffocating. The bastards were going to kill me.

Get out. Get the hell out.

I turned on my heel, throwing my head and shoulders back as I took long strides out of their office, heading for the employee locker room. The shitty space was also known as a sweat box since the cheap bastards had refused to fix the air conditioning unit in that part of the building. As I passed by several of the other showgirls, I could see shock and horror in their eyes. We all knew far too well the kind of brutality the men were capable of. Many of us had seen it firsthand.

You didn't go against the Morelli brothers without savage punishment.

I was sweating, constantly looking over my shoulder. What if they caught me? What if I was sold to some horrible monster? I had to get the hell out of the place.

Girls passed me, bumping into me as if on purpose. Another wave of fear tore into my system, the rush of adrenaline something I knew would be short lived. I tasted blood, the sickening sweet copper taste a reminder that the assholes were dangerous. Tears continued to fall, burning my eyes as I fled.

The inner voice inside my head was screaming to GTFO before I was made into hamburger for their lunch. I had no doubt the bullish men tossed the girls they hated into the large shark tank inside their hotel. How many times had I envisioned accidentally on purpose tossing one or both of the bastards into the massive saltwater aquarium just to see if they could swim?

Making demands also wasn't in my best interest, but I was owed almost two full weeks. And I desperately needed the money. Rent on the place I shared with another dancer was due, my bank account running short, and my puppy needed his vaccinations in less than two weeks.

Maybe I'd been as na?ve as I'd been accused of being after moving to Las Vegas. I'd hoped I could bring my dancing skills and successes to Sin City. However, I'd learned quickly that unless you knew someone in power or slept with them, you rarely were even shown the brass ring.

After grabbing my things, I didn't waste any time taking long strides into the parking lot, the late afternoon sun hitting me square in the eyes. I only prayed to God my little Toyota could make it for another few weeks. By the time I reached the driver's door, I was shaking all over, almost dropping the keys before managing to unlock, throw open the door, and slip inside.

As I prayed the engine would start, I noticed the younger of the two brothers was standing just outside the door smoking a cigarette. He didn't need to chase me. In a town that coveted bad men, I was well aware the bastard could find me. While the sun could be playing tricks, I knew in my heart he was glaring at me with venom in his eyes. I held my breath, the silent prayer bigger than usual.

What the fuck had I done?

When the engine turned over easily, purring like a kitten, I stroked her dashboard. "Thank you, baby." At least I had a quart of ice cream I would allow myself to indulge in as I cuddled with Remington under the covers. Tomorrow, I'd need to regroup.

I headed out, staring into my rearview mirror every few seconds. Thankfully, no one was following me. Within twenty minutes, I pulled into the tiny parking lot of the shitty apartment I lived in with Sheila. I wouldn't consider the girl a friend, but she'd needed a roommate and I'd needed a place to stay. We worked opposite shifts, which meant we rarely saw each other, which was good since we barely tolerated each other.

What living with her had offered was a safe place to keep my Goldendoodle. Even the bitch, as I'd referred to Sheila more than once, had a soft spot for my one-year-old fluff ball. He'd been my constant companion, a gift from my grieving father after my mother had died. I couldn't and wouldn't lose him under any circumstances. I grabbed my bag, wasting no time heading in through the main door. At least our building was fairly secure, even though located in a less than pristine part of town.

I took a deep breath before jogging up the three flights of stairs but the moment I reached the landing, I was even sicker inside than before. There were boxes tossed just in front of the apartment door without care, some turned over from the force used, what little I had to my name spilling out. Stunned, I couldn't move for a few seconds before Sheila appeared in the doorway, tossing another one, the few stuffed and hard toys I'd managed to purchase for Remington flying from the box.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I demanded, my voice shaking, but at least I'd found it.

Sheila stiffened, obviously not thinking I'd be home so quickly. She raked her hand through her long hair before throwing a hateful look in my direction. "What do you think? Tossing you and the smelly mutt out of my apartment. I knew you were worthless the second I met you."

Oh, shit.

I glanced over my shoulder, half expecting Rocco to be glaring at me from the bottom of the stairs. In another second, anger boiled from deep within, the longing to scratch out the girl's eyes strong.

No one treated me this way.

I moved closer, dropping down and picking up my baby's toys. I could hear him whining from inside. Since he didn't come to greet me, that meant she'd caged him or tied him up somewhere, which wasn't necessary. He was a very good boy.

"Why?"

"Because it's my place and from what I understand, you can't pay your rent. I'm finished with dealing with the shit you leave around and that fucking dog."

Maybe I should consider myself lucky that she didn't own a gun since she was fucking Rocco. I knew it. I'd felt it. I hated her for it.

What was I saying? I hated my entire life.

"Get the fuck out!" she screeched once again.

A strange sense of anger wafted over me, my former resolve kicking in. I was stronger than this. I could handle this bitch.

The smile on her face almost made me go postal but I stopped myself at the last minute, smiling instead. "So the rumors are true and you're sucking Rocco's cock. Or is it Sylvester's? Anything to climb the ladder, no matter how disgusting." With that, I did exactly what I'd done to Rocco.

I cold-cocked her, watching gleefully as her long, lean toothpick body was tossed against the wall beside the apartment door. There was far too much joy in my head, all the stupid things I'd put up with over the last few months floating in the front of my mind.

"You bitch! Get out now." Her face was bright red, a clear indication I was right. She fought to stand and I snorted, shaking my head.

"Gladly." I righted the box, placing it gently on top of another before getting in her face. "If you laid a finger on Remington, I will kill you."

And I meant it.