Page 48 of Trip Through Your Wires

“Now,” he clears his throat. “Would you like to hear the terms of our deal?”

“Deal?” I repeat, mouth gummy with tears and vomit.

“I have drawn up a contract that asks for one year of service. After that year is up, I will turn over the footage that proves you shot my son. You will be free to go about your future, with my word I will not pursue charges.”

“And my friends?” I ask shakily.

“With each subsequent year of service, the evidence that implicates your friends will also be destroyed.”

I count the years in my head, vision blurring. “Four years?”

He smiles at me viciously. “Seems fitting, given the crime, no?”

He removes a piece of paper from the folder and pushes it toward me, then sticks up his hand and gross Dane hands him a pen.

“Sign the agreement,” Richardson says simply, placing it on the table between us. “Work for me, and your future is secure.”

“Work for you?” I ask with a shake of my head.

“Why do you think you are here?”

I flick my eyes to the girl cleaning the floor. She has to be my age, maybe younger. “You want me to clean your floors?”

“No,” he sits back with a smile. “I want you to dance.”

“Dance?”

He nods toward the stage. “My clientele is growing and I need help keeping them happy. I have no doubt you can help me do that,” he says with a smile. “You are, after all, a pretty girl, just like your mother.”

The idea of dancing for bored husbands and lecherous old men makes me sick to my stomach. “And if I don’t?”

“You owe it to your friends, Ms. Miller. They have futures to protect. Don’t you want to protect them, the way they did you that night?”

His words prick my skin and the way he’s looking at me sends a shiver down my spine. “If I do this,” I look down at the paper and swallow, “I have your word you will leave them alone?”

“I won’t touch any of them, including the golden hair on Ms. Butler’s head. But if you do not sign this deal, I will not only hesitate to bring that evidence to my very good friend the Governor, but also make sure a copy is sent to every newspaper and TV station across the country.”

I eye the paper nervously, eyes filling with fresh tears. “You’re a bastard.”

He laughs. “That I am not, I can assure you. Unlike Ms. Butler and so many others in Cherry Cove, I am a blue blood, and we always come out on top. So sign the agreement, Ms. Miller, because this is one fight you cannot hope to win.”

Grabbing the pen, I draw in a breath to steady my shaking hand, then sign. When done I set the pen down, and he rips the paper out of my hand. I can’t help but feel as if I have not only sealed my fate but sold my soul to the Devil. At this point, they’re one in the same.

Chapter 10

Jake

As predicted, once we returned home from practice the storm arrived. A wicked wind howled all afternoon and into the night, covering everything in snow. However by morning it had passed, leaving behind a world that was quiet and Christmas card worthy.

“Weatherman says that’s the last of it,” Cruz says, coming up behind me as a stand at the living room window, taking it all in. The sky is blue, and icicles cling to the rooflines. It’s beautiful. Peaceful.

I loved the snow. Growing up in Connecticut, it was hard not to. Some of my favorite memories as a kid were of snow days—drinking hot cocoa for breakfast and playing in the back yard with my sister.

I remember waking up early, floors still cold as the wood burning fireplace in the family room warmed up the house while my sister and I sat at the breakfast nook listening to the radio, waiting for the news that school had been canceled. Man, when those days happened, it felt like we’d won the lottery.

“What a difference a year makes.” I shake my head, thinking back to last year at this time, when the weather was nice enough to practice in short sleeves.

“No shit,” he agrees, and something tells me he isn’t just talking about baseball.

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