Page 31 of Cruel Debts (Killers of Port Wylde #4)

TWENTY-SEVEN

ASHER

"Okay, Pretty Bird, no more sulking." I banged on the door one more time, already tired of this back and forth with her. "I'm taking you to work tonight."

Against my better judgment, but that was beside the point.

Locking her up wasn't working. Letting her stew wasn't working. And waiting around for her to not be mad at us and trying to bribe her with things wasn't doing shit to put a dent in the canyon between us and her.

Something had to give.

And if that meant doing something we didn't want to do, well, then the others were just going to have to get on board.

I wasn't going to watch her look like a dejected fucking dog for the rest of her time with us. I missed her smile. Trinity McCoy was a lot of things, but a sad girl? Never. And I'd be damned if we were going to be the reason for her turning into one.

Fuck that noise.

The door in front of me stayed closed for about two more seconds longer than I liked, so I banged on it harder this time, wondering if she was just asleep. "Trinity? Did you hear me? I said?—"

Suddenly I was knocking on air as a smiling, excited bundle of leather and lace rushed right past me in a hurry, a duffel bag in her arms. "Yes, yes, I heard you, Asher, jeez, let's go already!"

The speed at which she was able to get ready was truly amazing.

"Do you need to get dressed or anything?" I trailed behind her, more confused and definitely on high alert now. "You have everything you need?"

"Yeah, yeah, all my stuff is in the duffel bag, including my outfit." She waved me off, and I stood there in horror as I recalled the outfit she'd been wearing when she painted my body that one night.

Oh, hell no.

Standing around, watching her strut her shit in what amounted to lingerie, was going to be torture. Especially since I was already fighting the urge to give in to her obvious interest.

If I survived tonight, someone should really nominate me for the sainthood.

"Are any of the others coming?" She asked as we walked down the stairs to the main floor of the Guild, her whole body practically vibrating from the excitement bubbling over. "Or is it just you and me, ?"

I liked it better when she called me Asher, but I wasn't going to tell her that. She needed no more leverage over any one of us. Especially not me.

"The others will meet us there, I'm sure." Especially when they got home and found us gone, and discovered the note I left them that described in detail where I'd gotten off to, and why.

They'd be livid. But oh, well.

I'd cross that bridge when I got to it.

The car ride was tense; neither of us spoke to the other, the tenuous peace only serving to make it more awkward. I kind of wished she'd do something. Yell at me. Joke with me. Get sarcastic.

I didn't like it when Trinity shut up and stopped talking. Experience told me that was dangerous. Like poking a hornet's nest and then watching it from two feet away like the hornets inside it wouldn't seek revenge.

I just hoped whatever tenuous truce we had held long enough for me to figure out how to fix what we'd fucked up.

When we finally pulled into the club, I sighed in relief. I hadn't been subjected to any negative questions or judgment, and she hadn't given the vibes that she was still mad. In fact, she was still beaming as we walked in through a side door.

Although the bouncer there did give me a hell of a death glare when I insisted I be let in with her. She had to explain the situation before he'd step aside, and even then, it was with an enormous amount of simmering irritation.

He didn't appear to like his authority challenged.

Good. Let him stew over it. What did I care? I was here for one thing, and one thing only—keeping Trin safe.

I realized how difficult that would actually be as soon as I tried to follow her into a dressing room area and was stopped at the door, this time by a woman.

"Uh, sir, I'm sorry but you're not allowed back here.

Girls only." Her taloned fingers dug into my bicep, and I struggled to keep from flinching at the unwanted physical contact.

"You'll have to wait outside, or find something else to keep you busy.

" One look in her eyes revealed her little secret: she was more than happy to volunteer herself as a distraction.

"Not happening," I spat, grabbing onto Trinity's arm. "I'm not leaving you alone. That's my one rule."

Her look of frustration mirrored my own. "Asher, it's just a dressing room. I just have to put on my outfit, and I'll be right back. Nothing's going to happen to me while I'm in there." She gestured to the security guard a few feet away and sighed. "There's plenty of backup to make sure I'm safe."

"I don't trust them to keep you safe," I told her, my position firm. "Either I come in with you, or you don't go in."

"Asher—"

"Pretty Bird?—"

"Oh my god, listen. What if I leave the door cracked so you can hear?"

Her attempts at compromise were futile. "Not a chance."

"You're being unreasonable, you know."

"Uh, can you two figure this shit out and get out of the way? Some of us have to work." The girl from earlier was no longer trying to make herself into my next meal and had moved on to aggravation. "This isn't a parking zone."

"Bitch, pump your brakes, okay? I've been working here far longer than you, and I'll be damned if some two-week freshman is about to tell me what to do.

" Trinity grabbed my hand with an eye roll and leaned in through the door, clearing her throat.

"Girls, I'm gonna need you to hurry up and clear out for a few minutes.

I've got a babysitter, and I'm not allowed to change alone. "

There were a bunch of murmured complaints, but the girls started filing out one by one, some in various states of undress. Around the third set of tits that came out of the dressing rooms uncovered, I started to regret my stubbornness.

But not enough to go back on the demands.

"Come on, you asshole," she huffed, dragging me into the room with her and shutting the door. "I'll be quick."

I didn't move fast enough to look away as she dropped her trenchcoat and started stripping at light speed. Hell, when she flung her bra across the room, I instinctively reached out and caught it, flushing as I realized I was holding on to Trinity McCoy's fucking bra.

Her bra. That had just been on her tits moments ago.

Shit.

My phone started to vibrate, which was a bad sign.

That meant someone had gotten back to the dorm sooner than I planned.

If I didn't answer, they'd just keep calling.

If it were Hawke, he could have tracked my device had I not left our location behind.

But if I picked up, they'd want an explanation, and I didn't want to give one just yet.

Especially not in the presence of this frustrating woman?—

—who was busy pulling a pair of sexy neon-pink panties up her long legs, her ass bent over and bared to me, and holy shit, was that the hint of her pussy when she shifted her legs?

Fuck it. I could look away. I could pretend I wasn't staring.

But she knew better. She could see me in the fucking mirror.

When our eyes locked, she straightened and snapped the damn band of the thong, and I had to tighten my grip on the side of the chair I sat in, because I needed some pain to distract me from the tightness of my pants.

Boy, if the others weren't already on their way, there'd be no stopping the urge I had in me to take her, bend her over my knee, and spank the sass right out of her for the teasing. Maybe I'd show her what a real tease was, give her a taste of her own medicine.

But with the knowledge that they'd be here before I'd had my fill, my control was better. Stronger. Out of necessity.

"Trinity," I growled, just as someone banged on the door. "You'd better make this fast. It looks like our time is up."

Thank fuck, too. I was starting to slowly lose my mind.

"Oh, right, sorry." She was not sorry, not in the least. "Lemme just grab my wristband for the night, and the paints out of my bag?—"

She pulled some colored jelly wristbands off a hook in the corner of the room, considering each one before making her final decision and putting back the rest. Then, she bent over again, ass facing in my direction, and stuffed a bunch of her paints in a pretty pink toolbelt that matched her lingerie.

Next was her paintbrushes, then the palette that hung from a little hook on her hip, and finally, a hand towel that she hung off her other hip.

"Ready."

I'd say. I wasn't sure what this constituted as being ready for, but damn, was she ever ready.

To be fucked.

To paint someone's body from head to toe.

To drive me absolutely fucking bonkers.

On her way across the main room to the private areas, she greeted people she recognized, both patrons and workers alike.

She gave her favorite bodyguard an arm squeeze, slapped a few women's asses, and took a shot from a patron who'd just ordered one.

Everyone seemed to enjoy her presence, and she was positively beaming.

This was her home turf now, as much as it pained me to see her so at ease in a sex club. She felt safe here, comfortable. And these were her surrogate family members.

With us, she was a prisoner, and we, the jailers. With the people here, she was an equal.

She was free.

The difference was staggering.

I posted up along the far wall of her painting room for the next two hours as I waited for the others to join us.

Hawke showed first, not one to disappoint, with a girl on his arm already.

She looked like she was ready to fall into his lap when he walked into view, and he didn't bother to draw a line with her, content to let her hang on him like a leech while he watched Trinity work.

And work she did.

She ran circles around her patrons, many of whom tipped her extra because they were just so happy to have her back after such a long absence.

She handled them all with grace and professionalism, tagging in her burly assistant to remove the one man who started to protest her ending the session early because of his wandering hands.

I had a hard time resisting the urge to break every one of his fingers while she watched.

Liam showed up last, but whereas Hawke was calm, almost content with the situation, he was fuming. His eyes were filled with rage, and when he directed them at me, it was clear he blamed me for not talking to him first.

Too bad. I knew he'd shoot this idea down, and I wasn't taking that chance. I couldn't tell what direction Hawke would go, so without a guarantee of backup, I had to take drastic measures.

And that meant pissing someone off.

Namely him.

He sought me out with ease and leaned against the wall next to me, mimicking my pose. To an outsider, it looked like we were just two friends who'd stopped to have a chat and admire the view. Only I knew how pissed off, how dangerous, this situation was now.

"You brought her here alone." It was a statement, not a question. "After all the trouble we've had."

"She needed this?—"

"She needed to be safe. She needed to stay where we could protect her. And now she's in danger. Exposed. And so are we." He shoved one of the heels of his boots into my soft upper sole. "You're a lovesick, whipped asshole, and you're putting our whole operation in danger."

"Get fucked, Liam," I spat, eyes following Trinity as she finished up her last customer and promised to come back again soon for another session. "She's happy. Tell me it doesn't make you feel better to watch her smile."

He couldn't. As much as he wanted to play the stubborn mule, he, too, had something there for her. He could deny it and play the fool all he wanted, that was fine. But he couldn't lie to me. We'd been friends for far too long.

"She's better off unhappy and alive than happy and dead."

I looked over at her and froze. There were two strange men on the dias with her, and they looked too interested in the nearly-naked woman we were responsible for.

We moved in sync, the two of us like prowling predators as we inched closer to them, on high alert. Off to our left, Hawke is also watching, but he's content to hang back unless we need him. It's part of his Ghost persona. Hidden in plain sight. Always there but not.

It worked well for us.

When we were close enough to hear the conversation, my heart skipped a beat.

They weren't a threat in the sense that they were dangerous, but they were another kind of threat.

The sexual kind.

"So, pretty girl, what's the chance you wanna get out of here and grab one of these private rooms, see what it's like to run your hands all over a man's body instead of those paintbrushes?"

Trinity giggled, and her eyes struggled not to roll. I knew that look. I'd seen it on her face plenty of times before. This man didn't stand a chance. She wouldn't tell him outright, though. She was too well-trained for all that.

"Oh, you're so sassy, huh?" She slapped his bicep lightly, and he preened at her.

"I'm not sassy," his partner said, "but I am hung. And I know how to clean my plate when presented with a good meal." He licked his lips, and I internally groaned. The stupidest pick-up lines of the century.

Men were stupid. But these men were doubly so.

The first leaned in, running his fingers along Trinity's collarbone, and the second she flinched inward, I lashed out and gripped his wrist, halting his progression across her body.

"She's taken."