Page 10 of Wicked Attraction

This was my place, a gift for keeping the details of Brendan Rhymer’s death a secret, and it was just how I wanted it, expensive and luxurious and most of all,safe.

I dropped down on the plush sofa and curled my feet under me before I downed a shot of tequila and reached for the remote, turning on the television to help me forget the dream.

The memories, or nightmares as I called them, didn’t crop up often, usually only when I was stressed or afraid, two things I tried to avoid as an adult.

But with the shooting of Sadie and another go-around with Jasper, I should have expected it. But I didn’t because that was how trauma worked.

You forgot the trauma to survive, so you could live in the world without the shadows and demons coloring every fucking second of every damn day. If you did this long enough, you might forget it happened altogether.

Until it returned in vivid color. Often in a nightmare.

I clicked on the remote and found a celebrity cooking show to distract me. Padded to my luxe fridge for another shot and a beer to drown out the memories until they dissipated. I held up the shot glass with a bitter smile.

“Fuck you, dear old dad. Fuck the past, and fuck Jasper too.” All in that order. None of it was worth the real estate it took up in my mind.

The past and my father would reside there until the end of time, but Jasper? I still had a chance to purge him from my heart and mind. Maybe it was time to move on from Glitz. I had the money and life experience that I lacked when I found my way to the desert, so theoretically, I could leave. But the Ashby family, especially Sadie, would never let me go.

Ever.

They would probably kill me before letting me walk away, I knew too much, so it was just a thought. A fleeting thought that always popped into my mind whenever some bad shit went down. And it did, often, like whenever I felt my heart ache a little too much from loving Jasper.

Not that I would actually ever leave. I couldn’t, not because of the wholekill me deadthing, but because I owed Sadie too much.

I arrived in Vegas, a baby-faced sixteen-year-old with a smart mouth, big tits, and no experience in the real world. Old Man Rhymer came calling and tried to turn me out, turn me into a trick by ‘introducing’ me to one of his young and handsome business associates.

The guy claimed he wanted to show me his Ferrari. The naive little girl that I was, followed him down a dark alley where the bright red sports car shone under the golden glow of an overhead light.

I bent over and looked inside, ran my hands over the soft, buttery white leather with the red stitching, the gear shift, and all the other bells and whistles that were unlike anything I’d ever seen before.

He pushed me face down on the passenger seat, my legs hanging out of the car, and ripped off my panties. He’d been seconds away from shoving his gross cock inside me when I heard the click of a woman’s heels, followed by a crunching sound and then gurgling.

“Get up, girl. You’re safe now.”

I stood and turned to find the most glamorous woman I had ever seen dabbing blood from her face, neck, and chest.

“Um. This isn’t my car. Take it if you want.”

She laughed. “It’s yours now if you want it. He can’t use it.”

She looked down at her feet, and I followed her gaze to find the man still gurgling on the ground, a knife sticking out of his neck.

“What if he comes after me?”

“He won’t. He’s paralyzed. That’s why his head is the only thing twitching. He can’t move, and he’ll die right here unless you call for help.”

I stared at the man, knowing the right thing to do, but I ignored that look. He was no different from the man I’d ran away from.

“Fuck that. I’m not calling anybody,” I said, trying to sound tough.

Sadie smiled and held her hand out. “I’m Sadie.”

“I’m Maureen, but my friends call me Mo.”

She cocked a brow at me. “You have friends?”

“I did. Back home. Now, it’s just me.”

She nodded and pointed at the Ferrari. “You know how to drive that thing?”

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