Page 31 of The Senator

That fantasy was so real I could almost reach out for it. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry to hear that you lost your friend. Is it an anniversary time, or something? Is it why that guy came to see you?” I had to know why the guy turned up when he did.

Nash cleared his throat. “Actually, he’s doing a favor for me. He’s one of those people I don’t have to talk to all the time. If I ever need him to do something, he’s there in a heartbeat. Everyone in the club is like that.”

“What… Uh, what’s the club, if you can tell me?” I knew zilch about motorcycle clubs, but I’d at least search for it to see if they were criminals. Hell, I had a few friends in certain organizations who could run a check on them.

That might be the best way to handle it. If they were bad news, then I’d just look out for Nash as best I could. I didn’t want anything to happen to him. He was becoming too important to me.

CHAPTER 14

NASH

“Yes! Take it to the root, Senator.” I pumped my cock in and out of his luscious mouth. His tongue was like suede as it swirled around the head and under the rim of my rigid shaft, driving me out of my mind.

His slick finger was circling my hole, sending sparks up my spine as his mouth worked me over, pushing his head down such that the swollen crown of my cock was in his velvet throat, making him gag. I tried to pull back, but his finger in my ass tugged me forward, which gagged him again.

It was a beautiful sound, but something annoying kept blaring in the background, no matter how hard I concentrated on the feeling of Spencer’s mouth, throat, and probing finger, I couldn’t ignore the horn blasting in my ears.

I woke from the delicious dream and anger engulfed me immediately. I sat up and grabbed for my damn phone, which was blowing up. I saw ten missed calls from the same number, and after a minute, I recognized it. Denver.

It had been ten days since I’d returned from southern Virginia, leaving Denver and the crew investigating Spencer’s situation. I’d texted Denny a few times since then, but all I got in return were complaints about my lack of patience.

Every night since I sent Spence that first text, we’d been spending time either talking or texting, depending on whether I was working. I’d taken a few escort jobs—no sex involved—since it was the holiday season, and I’d even worked a gig as a waiter on Thanksgiving for Naomi Chu.

Sean Fitzpatrick was holding an open house at a homeless shelter in Northeast, so I worked it, and then donated my pay back to the shelter. It was a gratifying day for me, and after the masses were fed, Sean bought us pizzas. It was preferred by those working the event, because after serving turkey and the fixings all day, the last thing I wanted to eat was a Thanksgiving dinner.

Later that night, I found out Spence spent the night alone because Vani and their son, Jay, went to see Vani’s family for the holiday. I felt horribly guilty for not inviting the Senator to spend the day with me. When I told him what I’d done and apologized for not inviting him, he was gracious about it. “My being there would have taken the focus off the necessity to have the open house in the first place. I’m proud of you for doing it. I wish I could have done something similar.”

I coughed and swallowed, brought from my warm memories by my phone blowing up, yet again. “Yeah, Denny. What the hell, man?”

“It’s fuckin’ ten in the morning, kid. You still in bed? Oh, am I interrupting something? You and the Senator, dot, dot, dot?” I laughed at the fucking nosiness that permeated The Volunteers. It would always make me laugh.

“Hardly, and you know why. So, what’s so important that you’re ruining my beauty sleep.” If I didn’t press him, Denver would talk forever.

“Well, uh, I was able to find that photographer. He lives in Woodbridge. He works freelance, and it seems he worked on the Senator’s campaign. Also, his sister works in Brady’s Senate office, so that could be your leak. We’re still trying to backtrack who gave the order for the pictures in the first place. We’re looking through bank records right now.”

That made sense. I wondered why they didn’t go legit and become private investigators. With their tech guy, it sounded as if they could run the world.

Denny continued. “Hey, you know your guy has a lot of money to lose if he gets divorced. He was a good lawyer, and since he became a senator, he’s gained a lot of supporters, who like to give him money.”

That wasn’t something I expected to hear. “You think he’s dirty?” I blocked out the part where they were violating Spencer’s privacy by checking him out too.

“Not at all. He gives a lot to charity, and he had an inheritance from his grandparents. His kid has a college fund, and the wife’s apparently a great real estate agent because the woman made some bank last year. Just highlighting some points of interest that you might want to know,” Denver responded.

“I sent you a check for the rental car. I pay my own way, Denver.” I didn’t like that he thought I was interested in Spencer and Vani’s money.

People seemed to think because I was a sex worker on occasion, I was a gold digger as well. I worked two jobs. I paid my own way. I wasn’t a charity case.

“Little brother, hop off that high horse before you break your neck. I’m tearing up the check, so don’t send another. I meant nothing by it, so knock that chip off your shoulder. I’m just giving you the information you need to make an informed decision. Anyway, as soon we dig up something more, I’ll call you. Take care of yourself.” Denver ended the call.

I lay down on my back, ready to doze off again. I had nothing going on that day, which was a fucking relief. The banging on the door a few minutes later wasn’t appreciated at all.

I rose from the bed, pulling on pajama pants and a T-shirt to go to the door. Shoot me—I liked to be comfortable and sleeping naked afforded me room to move around.

I went to the door and looked through the peephole, not surprised to see Vani standing there. I unlocked the door and pulled it open, watching her thoroughly appraising my appearance. “Where’ve you been?” Her tone wasn’t appreciated. Neither was her barging her way into my apartment without invitation.

She was dressed to the nines. She looked beautiful, but her eyes showed a weariness that gave away her actual level of stress. “I’ve been here and working. How’ve you been? Want some coffee?” I walked toward the galley kitchen, hearing her heels clicking on the hardwoods.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” She didn’t sound like she cared if she did as she placed her handbag on the counter before leaning against it.

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