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“Yeah! A co-op. It sounds wacky, a pimp running a co-op, but it works.”
“He runs a co-op with his hookers?”
“Hey! We don’t use the H word! Otherwise you could call it a ho-op.”
My eyebrow raises at her hilarious outburst. “Wow!”
“Yeah. I don’t shame anybody for sex work. And they’re all really happy with the arrangement.”
Spending time with Ora the rest of the afternoon relieves a lot of my stress. We shop around a bit, grab lunch, and as I leave, she makes me promise to show up to her party that night.
“Just come and unwind. Gramps makes sure I’ve got protection on my place, so there’s no worries for safety from spying drug dealers.”
I’m sure Gavin will argue that point…
But I don’t bother going home before I head over to Ora’s later that evening after several more failed attempts to find work and a huge failed attempt to collect money that Brad Thomas owes me, another one of my campus clients. The prick threatened to call the cops on me.
I guess that’s it. All of my leverage is gone. Which means I’ll never get paid by Brad, Todd, or anyone else at this rate. The only upside is that people like Jake and Myra aren’t expecting to get paid for the last job anymore.
I’m just… written off.
Feeling thoroughly overwhelmed, I debate heading home to cry and curl up in a blanket when my phone dings with a reminder from Ora not to vanish.
You know what?
Drinking sounds like a way better idea than wallowing.
-Hey, I won’t be home tonight. Found a lead on work, then crashing at a friend’s. I promise it’s safe. I’ll text you with a check in once I’m there for the night-
I shoot a text to Gavin, hoping he won’t be an alpha protective prick about my staying out.
-As long as you trust them. Text or call if you need me-
Thoughts of Gavin tease at another itch I really need scratched, which means I definitely do not need to be alone with him at the house tonight.
Not that he wants what I want, but I don’t need more torture right now.
Maybe I will get some action at Ora’s, let off some steam.
Ugh. Probably not. I’m a mess.
My nerves come back, frayed as ever as I clunk the truck door shut and hurry down the street in the dark. That sensation that I’m being followed, watched, comes back in a zap of shivers as I reach the corner.
My breathing speeds up with my heart rate, making me panic.
I shoot a glance over my shoulder, certain someone is right behind me…
When I slam headlong into someone, a rock hard chest, and I feel strong hands grip my shoulders tightly.
8
HELLENA
I’m about to scream when one of the hands grabbing me clamps over my mouth lightly, stifling my cry.
“Whoa…Hellena?”
The shocks of fear warp into something else at the sound of that voice and the realization of whose hands are keeping me from bolting.
