Breaking Out (18 page)

“No. Yes. I was desperate. It was fucking freezing. It had been over a week and I'd used every resource I had to find her only to come up short. What choice did I have?”

“There had to be a better one than that.”

“Tell me,” he said in exasperation. “You tell me what the better choice was. He had me by the balls, Shamus. What was I supposed to do, let my dick and my pride get in the way of saving her life? I love her and there was no way she was coming out of that decline without my help. Her mom's sick. She was dying and Evelyn would have frozen to death right beside her rather than leave her.”

“What's wrong with her mom?”

“A ton of shit; mainly, she's an addict. I found her lying on nothing but cardboard, coughing up blood, in an old abandoned mill by the tracks. I thought she was already dead when I got there. Evelyn wouldn't leave her, so I carried her out of there, had Sheffield take a look at her, and now she's checked into rehab. She hates me. She would've died had I not carried her out of there, but she's too fucked-up to care. The woman is a selfish cunt and uses Evelyn, but she's all Evelyn's ever had and she won't abandon her.”

“So now what? Evelyn found out about all this and dumped you?” Jamie asked.

“No, not completely. There were conditions to the agreement. A bellboy makes practically nothing. Sure, Patras employees are paid about twenty percent above the norm, but do you know how long it would have taken to get an apartment in even the shittiest part of Folsom on that salary? I didn't think there was much of a rush. To protect myself further, I stipulated that the minute Evelyn agreed to marry me, all bets were off.”

“
Marry you?
Lucian, since when are you the marrying type?”

“Since Evelyn. I love her. Why shouldn't I marry her?”

“Because you've never been with anyone longer than a year.”

“I was with Monique for three years.”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you, her and Slade playing your twisted game of house doesn't count. Marriage is between two people. There's no gray area to escape to when things get tough. You know this. I remember when we were kids, every time your mother would cry because your dad ran off somewhere with Tibet, you'd swear you'd never get married.”

This was all true, but he didn't feel that way anymore. Evelyn changed all that. “Well . . . it's a moot point now. She doesn't want to marry me.”

His friend's eyes bulged. “You asked her?”

“Last week. She shot me down—about twenty times.”

“Why? Doesn't she know you're Folsom's most eligible bachelor?”

“She doesn't give a shit about any of that. She said she wasn't ready, doesn't know if she'll ever be ready. The funny thing is, the more she said no, the more I realized how badly I wanted her to say yes.”

“That's because people don't tell you no enough. You just want it because you can't have it and you don't like being told something's out of your reach.”

“No, I want her because I love her, because without her I'm incomplete. She makes me a better person. She grounds me. Being with her is nothing like being with Monique or anyone else for that matter. She's . . . perfect.”

“Then what the fuck are you doing here? Fuck that little bellboy punk—”

“I can't. She almost got herself killed the other day looking for him. He'd been MIA, and she was convinced he was in trouble. She had no idea he was now working and doing better than he had been in years.”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “Scout's too good for a bellboy.”

“He quit working for me. Found a much better job, but she didn't know any of this. She was a mess. No matter how much I despise the little shit, he's her friend. She's stubborn, you know? She'd keep sneaking off to find him. I knew where he was and I couldn't take fearing she'd keep going back to the tracks looking for him where he no longer was, so I arranged a dinner.”

“Cute. You set them up on a nice little date, did ya?”

“Fuck you. I was there. She was happy. In a way it was worth it.”

“Give me a break, Lucian. You're smarter than that.”

“You would think, but lately I've proven to be incredibly dumb. When I contacted him he told me he was going to be collecting,
soon.
I saw it in his eyes. He wanted his shot and I couldn't let that happen—”

“Wait, wait, wait . . . You gave him a job, when? November? How the hell does someone go from absolutely nothing to bolstering their confidence into taking on the likes of Lucian Patras?”

“Slade.”

Jamie stilled. “Slade? How's he have anything to do with this?”

“He fucked me. Somehow he ran across the kid and found out about our arrangement. I don't know what Slade's issue is with Evelyn. I don't really care anymore. I'd rather take a pike up the ass than ever see him again. He found out and gave the kid a job.”

Jamie scowled. “What kind of job?”

“A good one, making about ten times what he was making at Patras.”

Jamie shook his head. “Why? Why would he—”

“The kid's Crispin Hughes's son.”

His friend let out a long whistle and sat back in his seat. “Fuck.”

“Yeah.” Lucian tipped his head back until his neck was resting on the back of the couch. His hand scrubbed his brow. “So I proposed, she said no, I freaked, thereby freaking her out in the process. Giving Hughes any more time would have only put the odds more in his favor. I didn't want him to be any more comfortable. The kid's a prodigy. I've looked into it. It's in him, same as it was in his father, same as my father instilled it in me. So I told Evelyn we needed to take a break.”

“I imagine that didn't go over too well.”

He laughed without humor. “No. She hates me. I've fucked things up so bad I don't think any more damage can be done. She wanted to know why. What the hell was I supposed to tell her? That I'd loaned her out to her friend?”

“Fuck that, Luche. Screw this kid. I don't care who his dad was—”

“I gave him my word.”

Jamie groaned. “You and your fucking word. He's a Hughes! Do you think he'd keep his word?”

“He isn't like his father. Smart like him, yes, but I have a feeling he's not dishonest.”

“Aw, that's nice. I'm sure Evelyn will appreciate his honesty when he tells her he wants to sleep with her.”

“What the fuck could I do?” he yelled.

“You should have told her the truth!”

His insides tightened. “I can't. I couldn't. It's no use now, because part of the deal is that I don't contact her, but before . . . I refuse to be the one to tell her what's really going on.”

“Why? If honesty is such an important trait to her, don't you think whoever explains things will ultimately be on her good side?”

He met his friend's gaze. “Imagine how it will go when she finds out. First she'll be irate. If I told her, she wouldn't listen beyond the first confession. She'd be out the door and I'd be right where I am now. I know what he has planned. He's her
friend,
sweet Parker who'd never harm a fly and thinks of everyone before himself.” He scowled. “She has him pegged as some sensitive, selfless, poetic sort of guy. I assure you he's anything but. He's as shrewd and selfish as his father. Only my intuition that he hated Crispin leads me to believe he'd loathe coming off as anything less than noble to Evelyn. I think it would kill him to be seen as anything remotely similar to the man who raised him, and right now I wouldn't mind him dead.

“All I was worried about that day was finding Evelyn and making sure she was safe—by
any
means
.
Parker
had conditions. He could've helped her. He knew that's what I was there to do, but he found a way to press his advantage. I was at the mercy of anyone who knew where she might be, and he used my disadvantage for his own purposes. Evelyn's the furthest thing from a pushover. Her life's been too hard for her to be naive. Once she has all the facts, and believe me, she will, she'll realize what he did.”

Jamie was quiet for several minutes. His hands were folded as his elbows rested on his knees. This was his pose for deep contemplation. Finally, he said, “So, she finds out he put the deal on the table. That's one black mark. She then finds out that, had you not agreed to his conditions, she would've frozen and her mother would've likely died.”

“Correct.”

“Okay, but Luche, that doesn't guarantee she'll come back to you. It doesn't guarantee that before she finds all that out he may have already gotten what he's after.”

His throat went dry and he swallowed. “I know,” he rasped, baring every bit of worry in his expression for his friend to see.

Jamie sat back with a jerk. “Fuck, this is a goddamn mess.”

“You're telling me?”

“No. I can see you don't need anyone telling you what a cluster fuck this all is.” He scrubbed his face with his palms then stilled. “What did you do to Slade?”

“I'm buying him out. Fuck if I'll do business with that prick ever again. I reminded him the only reason I'm in this predicament is because I'm a man of my word. I then gave him my
word
that if this ends badly for me, I would make it my life's ambition to destroy everything he loves.”

Jamie shook his head. “He's an idiot. Why the fuck would he get involved?”

“Because he wants to fuck me,” Lucian said snidely, still not understanding Slade's reasoning. He wasn't even sure he had a good reason. All he knew was that Slade used to be a good guy until he turned so cynical and bitter.

Jamie threw up his hands in exasperation. “We're supposed to be friends. Do you think this is because of Monique? Good God, he needs to let it go!”

“I know.”

“You had no more to do with her death than he did. It was a fucking accident. Jesus. Do you want me to talk to him?”

“Don't bother. The selfish prick's gonna do what he wants. Besides, it's too late to change things. I've got twenty-six days to sit here with my thumb up my ass and hope I don't kill anyone in the process. He better pray that doesn't happen, because the minute murder is on my radar, I'm coming for him.”

“Why don't you get out of town for a while?”

“And do what, write poetry about the one who got away? No. I need to work.”

“Well, your staff's terrified of you at the moment. If you're going to work, work. Don't make them pay for your mistakes.”

Lucian got quiet. “I really fucked up,” he confessed in a whisper. “What if I can't get her back, Shamus? What if this kid really is better for her and she sees that?”

“Knock it off. You're Lucian Bloody Patras. You've gotten everything you've ever set your sights on. What makes her different?”

He thought for a moment, then met his friend's gaze. “She may be poor, but she's the only person I've ever met with as much determination as me. She's my match, and for the first time in my life, I finally understand what others fear when they face me in a board meeting. If she's determined never to be with me again, take my word, she won't.”

“I find it hard to believe there's anyone in this world with as much determination and tenacity as you, Luche. I like Scout. You're right, she's a feisty thing, but she loves you. That fact is clear to anyone who sees you together. You're tired. Get some rest. Once you have a clear head you'll see things better. I don't give a shit who this kid's daddy was. He's not you. Christos was always a little classier, with a little more stealth, and a little more honesty than Crispin Hughes. That sort of thing sticks with its lineage. Evelyn may be your match, but Hughes isn't. She's not the one you have to take out. He is. The thirty days will be over before you know it and you'll have this fixed in no time.”

“God, I hope you're right.”

“I am.”

Chapter 17

Decoy

A chess tactic used to lure a piece to an unfavorable square

As the week progressed, things only grew worse. After dressing down an employee in front of the entire lobby, which unfortunately also included the man's fiancée, who worked on another floor, Lucian decided to head home. It was Friday and for the first time in God knows how long, he was home. Pathetic. So he decided to drink.

He drank whatever was sitting in the decanters on the bar, and then he called room service and had them bring him more. He drank until he couldn't walk without knocking into things, and he couldn't stand without the room tipping on end. He drank until his vision played tricks on him, and then he decided it was best to simply sit. So he sat and had a long discussion with himself about what an asshole he was.

His eyes were shut and his head rested on something. He thought he had last sat down on the couch, but couldn't quite remember. He wanted to check, but his eyelids were simply too heavy to move. When there was a knock at the door he groaned.

“Who's it?” he slurred.

Nothing.

He decided to fall asleep, then the knock sounded again. “Who's there?”

When he began to doze off and the knock sounded a third time, he tipped his ass off the couch and forced his eyes open. The world swirled and he moaned until it eventually righted itself. Pressing himself up on his knees, he groped the coffee table, hoisting himself on his feet. Like a marble making its way down a wobbling maze, he staggered, bouncing off the walls, down the hall to the door.

He stretched his eye muscles by blinking hard, then tried to find the peephole. Something sharp shifted in his gut as his hand went to the knob. Cursed fingers yanked on the door only to realize the latch was engaged. He undid the latch and threw the door open.

Unbelievable.

Through his off-kilter, blurred vision he saw three Evelyns standing before him, trying to combine into one as his eyes fought for focus. “Jesus.”

She gave a slight finger wave, but said nothing. He reached and caught air, then reached again and felt the warmth of her skin. Sweet heaven, she came back.

He yanked her inside and slammed the door, pressing her into the wall. Her dark hair was down and she had a lot of makeup on. She seemed so different even though it had only been a week. His fingers ran over her shoulders, feeling her, testing that she wasn't some sort of conjured dream.

“I can't believe you're here,” he whispered as he kissed her jaw, her throat.

Peeling away her coat, he threw it to the floor. Her touch was aggressive, needy. His mouth found hers as she yanked the knot of his tie the rest of the way loose. It slid from under his collar with a whoosh, and then her cool, nimble fingers worked the buttons of his shirt open.

His tongue pierced between her lips and went deep, reclaiming her. She tasted different.

“Never again,” he whispered between kisses, parting his mouth from hers to draw her shirt quickly over her head. Something caught his eye, but he was too drunk and lost in the exquisite moment to wonder what it had been. “I'll never let you go again.”

His cock was rock hard. Her fingers curved over the bulge in his slacks, and he moaned as she fondled him through his clothing. His palm cupped her breast and he stilled. His dick, now fully engaged, seemed to control his fingers as they pinched her nipple, but his brain objected. Something wasn't right.

She took over the kiss, aggressively gripping his neck and backing him into the wall. Lucian was never one to be directed in sex, yet he went docilely as his simple, brandy-sodden mind worked to understand why this was suddenly so, so wrong.

The wall halted her progress as his back hit it with an ungraceful thump. He watched her dark head as she kissed her way down his chest and dropped to her knees. His cock was already free and in her hands.

“Mmm, you're so big,” she purred in an unfamiliar voice as she prepared to take him into her mouth.

Something snapped. She yipped as he roughly grabbed a fistful of hair, holding on by a thread so as not to fall into a violent rage. He yanked until her face tipped into view. Through clenched teeth he growled, “Who the fuck are you?”

She whimpered and released him. “My name's Sherry.”

Appalled, he flung his fingers out of her hair, which was not nearly as soft as Evelyn's, and stepped away. After quickly righting his pants, he paced. The hall was dark. As he flicked on the switch, he turned to face her.

“Jesus,” he uttered. She had the same length of hair, the same delicate bone structure as Evelyn, but her eyes were not crystal blue like hers. No, this woman's eyes were brown. She also had freckles showing under a great deal of makeup. Her breasts were larger by at least two sizes, and there was a tattoo of a raven on her shoulder. That must have been what caught his eye at first, telling him something wasn't right.

He wished like hell he were sober. He couldn't think. The woman sat on the floor, watching him, looking like she wanted to bolt, but he still held her shirt in his fist and blocked her exit.

“How did you get up here?” he demanded.

“I . . . I had a key.”

Impossible. Only hotel staff, Evelyn, Dugan, and himself had keys to the penthouse. His alcohol-sodden brain cleared as if by magic. “Who sent you?”

Her lips pressed together. She lowered her head. “I was paid to do whatever you wanted. I'm sorry you're disappointed. If you give me my shirt I'll go.”

“Fuck that. I want to know who sent you here and I want to know now. Someone gave you a key.”

When she said nothing, he barked, “Prostitutes are paid. You either tell me who bought you or I call the cops and have them haul your ass downtown.”

She burst into tears. “Please don't do that. This was a mistake. I'm sorry.”

“Who hired you?” he growled.

She sniffled and covered her breasts. “I don't know his name. He's a client. I've only serviced him a few times, but he's nice and I never thought he'd put me into a dangerous position. Please don't hurt me or call the cops.”

“What does he look like?”

Her breath hitched as she drew in a stuttering breath. She looked at him with teary eyes. “Young. Brown hair. Green eyes—”

“Motherfucker.” He turned and forked his fingers through his hair. “How did you meet him?”

She sniffled. She was clearly terrified. Either that or she was an actress before she became a hooker. “He called my agency and asked for someone who looked like me.”

That cocksucker. Lucian shot out a humorless chuckle at the man's audacity. “What, they didn't have a girl with her blue eyes?”

“He requested blue eyes. He asked if I could get contacts,” she admitted in a whisper.

Disgusted, Lucian walked passed her and threw his ass into a chair. After a few minutes, she followed him. “Sir, if you give me my clothes I'll leave.”

Lucian looked at her standing with her coat covering her naked breasts. It was uncanny how much she actually resembled Evelyn. “He fucked you?”

She blushed and lowered her gaze to the floor.

“I take it that's a yes,” Lucian said slowly.

“I've only been with him a few times. After tonight I don't think I'll ever take his call again.”

He shook his head. What could he say? “I don't imagine he'll be calling you in the next twenty-three days anyway. How much did he pay you to come here?”

She gazed suspiciously at him. “One—Two hundred.”

Doubtful. Luckily he could play her little game too. Lucian reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. He counted out five hundred and tossed in on the table. “That's yours if you tell me everything you know about him. I promise not to hurt you and you won't have to work for the money he gave you. Sorry, but you're not my type.”

She gave him a measured look, then gradually approached the table. Small fingers scooped up the money, and she carefully sat on the chair across from him. He tossed her the shirt.

After she put it back on, she asked, “What do you want to know?”

“Start at the beginning. How did you meet?”

She adjusted her clothes and tucked her hair behind her shoulders. “Like I said, he called the agency asking if we had anyone who fit a description. He wanted thin, long chestnut hair with hues of auburn, blue eyes, early twenties. They sent me and two other girls. He sent the other two home and invited me in.”

“What happened during that first meeting?”

Her cheeks flushed. “Um, what usually happens . . .”

“He fucked you?”

“Well . . . yes.”

Lucian titled his head. “What's the ‘well' about? He either fucked you or he didn't. It's a yes-or-no question.”

“Um, first we talked for a while. His time eventually ran out, but he put more money on the table and asked me to stay until morning.”

“And did you?”

“Yes.”

“What did you talk about?”

“He was, um . . . inexperienced I guess you could say.” Lucian chuckled and she paled. “Are you going to turn me in?”

“No. My issue is with him, not you. Tell me more.”

She licked her lips and sat back. “Well, he said he didn't have a lot of experience and he wanted to know how to . . . please a woman.”

“He was a virgin?”

“Not exactly. He wanted to learn how to . . . make love. He said his experience was only with, well, quickies, I guess.”

Lucian growled. “Go on.”

“We started with kissing and he asked a lot of questions, what I liked, what I didn't like. Then we moved on to other things. He was very insistent that I not, um, you know . . . fake it.”

“I bet he was,” Lucian mumbled, shaking his head. “Continue.”

“Well, we slept together that night, and then he asked me to come back every two weeks. He said he would hire me more if I kept our arrangement between us and left the agency out of it. I'm not supposed to do that, but I sort of, um, liked him.” She shrugged, a gesture Lucian imagined some men found cute.

“So he could pay you less, no doubt.”

“Well, yeah, but that wasn't what it was about. At the agency's rate he would only be able to afford to see me every few weeks. If I cut them out, I took home everything I got. So, since he was nice, I . . .” she suddenly looked upset. A tear fell from her eye and she batted it away. “I came to see him every week, sometimes twice a week.”

Lucian watched her critically through narrow eyes. Then it dawned. “You liked him.”

“I'm a call girl. Emotion doesn't play into it.”

“But it did for you, didn't it, Sherry?”

She sniffled and wiped her eyes again. Her frustration with her emotions was evident in the way she kept readjusting her posture, searching for ways to hide her upset. Giving up, she confessed, “He was just so nice. He made me feel special. It wasn't just about the fuck for him. It was about the touch, the kisses, the looks. Clients don't usually look at me the way he did. I swore he was falling for me, but then . . . then he sent me here and I don't understand why. I assumed you were friends.”

“Certainly not friends.” He sat back and crossed his ankles. “He was learning how to seduce a woman and practicing on you.”

The statement stung her, he saw. She shrugged, pretending indifference and failing at it. “I guess.”

“Will you go back to him?”

She didn't answer for a long time. Quietly she whispered. “I think I'm in love with him.”

This woman was sent to fuck him, physically and metaphorically, yet he pitied her. She was caught up in a game she didn't understand. Parker used her to up his game when it came time to seduce Evelyn. All other thoughts got interrupted by the king of all thoughts. “Was he a good lover?”

She met his gaze. “He wasn't when I met him. I was the first person he ever . . . took his time with. Once he learned how to savor it, it became incredible, for both of us. He was the first person I ever made love with, so yes, I think he's a good lover.”

He drew in a slow breath that shook inside his ribs. “Did he bring you to orgasm often?”

She blushed. “Every time.”

His back teeth clenched. “What did he expect to gain from you coming here?”

“I don't know. He told me not to call him. Said he would call me. He said he wanted me to remember everything we did, every way you touched me, how you looked at me, then he said he would invite me over one day and I was supposed to report on what we did when he asked, no matter who was present, but I wasn't to admit that I'd been paid.”

“Son of a bitch,” he hissed. That shit wanted it to get back to Evelyn that he'd been unfaithful during their time apart. Fuck that. He needed to think. Here was a woman under the misconception that she loved Parker, yet she knew nothing about him. He'd used her to get closer to another woman.

“I want to tell you something, Sherry. You've been honest with me and I want to be honest with you. Parker Hughes is not in love with you.”

Her face tightened and she blinked back more tears.

Lucian continued. “He's in love with a woman who looks remarkably like you. He's trying to seduce her and he used you to enhance his skills in the bedroom. If he succeeds, you'll never hear from him again.”

Her shoulders shook as she cried silently. “How do I know you aren't lying to me?”

“Because I'm in love with the woman he's after. He sent you here thinking you were a close substitute in her absence. I'm sorry, but you're not. You see, when you love someone, only their touch will do. It's only in their scent you find intoxication,
their
kiss that tastes so perfect. It has nothing to do with you, but everything to do with her.”

“Believe it or not, I know what you mean. I felt the same way with him. I loved going home and still being able to smell him on my clothes.”