Page 50 of Cruel Master

He nodded and I moved forward, gently nudging him out of the way as I opened it and reached inside. Thankfully, he’d been smart enough to pick up what I’d told him to after our phone call. Memorizing the cell I’d given him had paid off. “Here,” I said, pulling out the light gray sweatpants and a white shirt from the bag. I ripped off the tags and handed the clothes over. “Go shower and put these on after you’re done.”

Ronald took the clothes but didn’t move immediately, shifting awkwardly on his feet. “I-I forgot underwear,” he murmured, a blush stealing across his cheeks.

Now was definitely not the time to be laughing, so I repressed an amused grin and shook my head. “It’s not going to be a big deal,” I said. “You can wear these to sleep in, and I’ll run to the front and see if they have a laundry room I can use to wash your other things.”

His shoulders sagged in defeat, and he nodded. “Okay.”

“Oh, wait!” I called out as he turned away to follow my instructions. He paused, and I reached into my satchel, withdrawing a small case I always tried to carry. I flipped it open and retrieved a cheap razor and handed it to him. “While you’re in there, you should try to shave.”

He stared at the proffered razor for several long beats before he reached out and gingerly took it from my grasp. “O-Okay,” he responded.

I nodded and watched him go into the bathroom towards the back of the room. I waited five minutes after the shower was turned on before I snuck in and stole the dirty clothes he’d been wearing—including his underwear—from the floor before heading back out. I left my stuff on the still-made second bed and snatched the key from the dresser before heading out again.

More rain poured down over the side of the awning as I made my way to the front. It was a quick trip, though, thankfully, and twenty minutes later, I’d commandeered the only washer in the laundry room the motel had and was on my way back to the room.

Twin SUVs with blacked-out windows spun into the parking lot, speeding so fast that the second one hit the curb and nearly went up on two wheels as they came to a sudden halt. I froze, horror descending as I wondered if they were there for me or …Ronald!

The doors opened and several men poured out. My eyes darted the last twelve feet or so to room number 6, but it was too late. The men that came out of the SUVs were dressed in dark wash jeans and black button-up shirts, but I didn’t miss the bulges at the small of their backs. They were packing.

Quickly ducking behind a cleaning cart that had been left outside a nearby room, I crouched down and glanced around the side of it as three of them moved towards the very room I’d left Ron in and another two headed my way.

Motherfucking shit.My gun was in the room in my satchel, however it did me little good there. I had to think of something quickly. If they were here for Ron, that meant they worked for the corporation he’d left, but if they weren’t here for him, then … that meant they were here for me and Ron was still in danger.

I bit down on my lower lip and considered my choices.

One. I could stand up and reveal myself and see if they recognized me. If they did, then they weren’t here for Ron. Nevertheless, I was still without my gun and could not overpower five grown men packing heat on my own.

Two. I could remain crouched here and see if they would bypass me as they headed for the front office. It was a risk and highly unlikely that they’d notice me.

Three. I could cause a scene. This cleaning cart couldn’t have been unmanned. There had to be a motel worker nearby. Perhaps if I screamed loud enough, someone would call the cops. The threat of authorities could scare these guys away—or it could hurry them into getting what they came for and getting out.

Each plan was met with hesitation. They could all go wrong and, at worst, since these men were carrying guns, they could just decide to kill everyone here. It wouldn’t do to get a poor motel employee involved.

So, with that in mind, I did the only thing I could.

Considering the type of place this motel was and what kind of customers it likely attracted, I decided to remove my sweatshirt and tie it around my waist. I gripped the tank I’d had on underneath and yanked it down until the cups of my bra were visible and then I pulled it down another good inch to make it clear. When I didn’t think that was enough, I pulled up the hem of the shirt and made a quick knot above my belly and below my breasts. The more skin I showed off, the more distracted and dismissive they would likely be. My cut-off jean shorts were thankfully frayed and small. They’d looked perfectly acceptable with the sweatshirt on, but now I pulled the waistband down and reached underneath, gripping the straps of my thong and raising them over my hips.

I pulled my hair out of the ponytail it’d been in and let it drop over my shoulders. I scrubbed a hand through the strands, fanning them out even more and then flipping the pieces at the front of my face to cover one side more. Once I was done adjusting myself, I took a deep breath and stood up.

The two stomping towards the front office paused as they caught sight of me and I forced a light and overly relaxed smile. “Heyyy, big boys,” I murmured, faking a thicker, far more southern accent as they looked me over. “Y’all here for a good time? I can provide that if ya need.”

The two exchanged looks and then kept walking without saying a word to me. My racing heart slowed as I realized Gaven couldn’t have sent them. Even with my fake accent and the skin, there’s no doubt he would have made sure each of his men knew who they were hunting. That only left one reason for these people to be here. My client.

As the men stormed off, I forced a casual pace as I continued walking, curiously watching the three left behind as if I didn’t have a damn clue who they were or what was happening.

As I approached, the three men from the SUVs stood in front of Ronald’s door. “‘Scuse me, gentlemen,” I said lightly. “My … erm … friend didn’t say nothin’ bout a party.”

The taller of the three tossed a look my way and scowled. “We’re not here for you, whore. Get moving.”

I faked a gasp of outrage and bristled. “How dare you!” I squealed. “I’m a respectable lady!”

One of the men with him—a slightly shorter man with ginger hair and a scar that ran down the side of his jaw—scoffed. “Yeah, right,” he snickered. “With your tits out like that, there ain’t no question what you’re here for. Your client ain’t free no more. Do what the nice man said and move along.”

I twisted my hands in front of my stomach, pressing my arms together as it plumped up my breasts. “B-but my stuff’s still inside,” I said. “I-I can’t leave without no payment, neither!”

The ginger man moved away from the other two and blocked me. My eyes widened as the first pulled his gun out and sent me a glare before he twisted the handle of the motel door and when it didn’t move—because I’d locked it on my way out—he reared back and kicked it in. I flinched and gasped as the door splintered apart. Inside, I heard Ron’s cry of shock and fear.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.This was getting out of control fast.

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