Page 19 of The Escort

“I see those AA meetings are working out well for you.” I walk over and snatch the beer from his hand.

I twist the cap off and chug down half of it. It’s cold, and after beating up that wall, it tastes delicious.

“Oh, you’ve done your investigative work, haven’t you?” He pulls another beer out for himself. “A few months back, I was hitting the hard stuff a little too hard. I showed up drunk at the jail to visit my mom. Now, the warden will only let me back in after I do six months of AA meetings.”

The confession takes me by surprise. I never expected him to be honest and not about something so personal. “Your mom’s in jail?”

His lips press together. “You know all about my mom.” He wags a chastising finger at me. “My brothers and I take turns visiting her on the weekends.”

“Is that why you do the escorts? Because of what happened to your mom?” Yes. I read the news articles. His mother claimed his father had been abusing her for years. But it appeared she had no chance against her dead husband’s family’s money.

“Intentions.” He tilts his beer at me. “They’re our pathways.”

“How does it work? The escort service?”

He sets the beer on the table and crosses his arms over his chest. “You know the resource for your story. She’s a junkie.”

“But she did call the domestic center for help.”

“She’s an unreliable source. That’s why you’re here.”

He’s trying to deflect, but I can play the game. “You were there when your mom shot your dad.”

“I was,” he says without blinking an eye. “I don’t remember much because I was only eight, but I was my father’s favorite. He had three sons. I’m the youngest, and the lucky one to be granted his name.”

“You were close with your dad?”

“I hated my father. How is your relationship with your father?”

Another deflection. “Off the record, I hate the man,” I admit.

“Well, we have that in common.” He stares at me for a long moment as if trying to read my intentions. “I don’t know what you’re looking for, but you know the story you’re after. If you expose it, it’ll hurt the ones who need it. And frankly, I don’t take you as a selfish person. So what are you really after?”

He’s right. I know he is.

“Unless…” He sets his beer on the table and slowly saunters to me. “It’s me you’re after?” He stops, slipping his hands to my sides. Hot air burns my chest, suffocating my response. “I’ll hold your shirt so you can remove the dusty one.”

I pull the shirt he gave me up and over my head, feeling every strand of my hair falling back around my hypersensitive neck. His fingers press deeper into my hips.

He draws me to him.

“Chosen, I’m going to kiss you now.” His head bends down.

I should stop him. Say no. Pull away. Fight the consuming need to experience his lips against mine. Again.

I should do something!

His soft, warm flesh melts into mine…

Chapter 8

I lock the door and head to my SUV.More confused about what Chosen wants. The way she responded to the kiss, I should have had an inkling, but then she followed it up with a slap across my face before she bolted out the door.

What’s up with this woman? She has this glint in her eyes. It’s not bright or all-telling. The flicker almost seems anger-driven. But I sense it’s alive because of me. I don’t understand what I ever did to her. We’ve only just met. I never laid eyes on her before the night at the bar. I’d remember. It makes no fucking sense.

The more I’m with her, the more I’m convinced she’s not after the escort story. She’s after something else.

I jump in my SUV. My cell starts ringing. I fish it out of my jeans and look at the screen.

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