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It’s always been an option. There are men out there who will give me food and shelter in exchange for warming their bed.
But I could never…
“Having second thoughts?” Uncle Mickey looks at me like he can see exactly what’s going on in my head. “It’s not too late to turn back.”
Turn back.
Go back to Kyle.
That’s not a fucking option. Not if I don’t want Abel to grow up abused and fucked up.
There will be no other opportunities to make this kind of money.
With the amount of money they’re willing to pay, I can secure Abel’s future.
All it will take is me spreading my legs for a stranger…
A pit begins to form in my stomach and I feel a little sick.
I’d do anything for Abel. Anything.
Even this.
Watching my face, Stewart smiles when I dip my chin for him to go on.
Salvia fills my mouth and I fear I’m going to puke as he adds Nathaniel’s picture to the others on the coffee table.
There’s so many of them…
All of them rich and obviously powerful.
What would any of them want with me? Even if I want to do this, can I?
“Our final and most important target—Jude Vanderbilt,” Stewart says. “There’s a significant bonus if you can manage to tag him. Our client is the most interested in his whereabouts. It won’t be easy, though. He’s highly unpredictable.”
I look down at the picture. At yet another stupidly handsome man in a suit. “Why?”
Stewart shrugs his shoulders. “It’s personal.”
Staring at Jude’s picture, I wonder what he did to piss off whoever wants this job done.
Out of all the men, he seems… the most dangerous. He doesn’t appear to be as big as Gabriel. That man, even in photographic form, is intimidating as hell. But there’s an edge to Jude, to his appearance, that the others don’t have.
Maybe it’s the ink creeping up his neck from beneath his suit.
Or the look in his eyes.
He has the kind of eyes you only see in the mugshots of serial killers and mass murders.
Intense eyes full of something… wild and unpredictable.
The longer I find myself staring at him, the more I’m determined to avoid him at all costs.
Significant bonus or not.
“You don’t have to do this,” Uncle Mickey says, his tone surprisingly gentle.
Fighting back a shiver, I tear my eyes away from Jude’s picture and look at him.
