Page 1 of James (Big Northwest #6)

CHAPTER ONE

JAMES

“ R AWN .” SIERRA CALLED out her stage name from across the poorly lit dressing room at the back of The Secret Garden.

“What?” James leaned closer to the lighted mirror in front of her as she continued fine-tuning the swirling design of sparkly aqua waterproof liner curling around her eyes.

“You got a request.” Her friend flopped down into the seat next to her, looking disappointed. “He’s hot as fuck and unfortunately, only interested in you.”

James finished adding the glitter portion of her signature makeup and went to work dusting iridescent powder across her skin. “I’m not on the clock yet.”

Sierra snorted. “You better not let Jerry hear you say that. He’ll lose his shit.”

“Jerry can kiss my ass.” James leaned back, giving herself a once-over to double-check her work. “Actually, I take that back. He’d enjoy it too much.”

The owner of The Secret Garden was as slimy as they came. Unfortunately, the guy also ran the most popular gentlemen’s club on the Las Vegas strip. How that happened was anyone’s guess, but likely involved more illegal shit than she cared to consider. But good money was good money and she’d take every bit of it she could get her hands on.

“Ew.” Sierra grimaced, making a gagging sound. “Don’t even say shit like that. I just ate.” Her disgusted expression shifted, turning concerned. “I take it that means he tried to get you to fuck him again?”

“He’s always trying to get me to fuck him.” James bit back the hit of anger that came whenever she talked about her boss.

Or saw him. Or spoke to him. Or when he breathed. It was really fucking aggravating how he kept doing that.

"Gross." Sierra adjusted the cropped satin robe tied at her waist. "He's notorious for trying to fuck the girls who work for him, but usually loses interest pretty quick when fresh meat comes in." Sierra’s dark eyes moved to meet hers in the mirror. "Hopefully he'll lose interest in you sooner or later."

James managed a small smile, hoping it was enough to reassure her friend. "I'm sure he will."

It was a complete and total lie. If Jerry was only interested in fucking her, the slimeball would have moved on to an easier target the first time she brushed him off. But sex wasn't all the skeevy club owner claimed to want from her. For some reason, he'd decided he wanted her as a more permanent fixture in his life. A tall blonde girlfriend on his arm to show off to his other sketchy friends. A woman who would make him seem desirable and high value.

In the six months she'd been at The Secret Garden, his advances had only gotten more frequent and more aggressive. So much so, she'd considered ripping his throat out the past couple run-ins they had.

That wasn't a good development. Thoughts of homicide were normally the sign it was time to move on. To go somewhere else. Start over.

But the money she made there was insane. Enough that the balance in her bank account was climbing at an epic pace even while sending a hefty monthly amount to her sisters in Shadow Pine. And money talked. It was one of the main ways to have power in this world.

Another primary one was to be the owner of a dick, but that wasn't as easy to obtain. Especially since it wasn't looked upon as favorably when you sliced it off and put it in a case.

" Rawn ." A new voice yelled the stage name she chose years ago when she first left her sisters to see what the real world had to offer—and to find out if it was as fucked up as the one she grew up in.

It was.

" What ?" James snapped. There was a hint of a growl in her voice, but she quickly covered it up by coughing, making it seem like there was something caught in her throat. Plastering on a fake smile, she controlled her voice and repeated, "What?"

Lynne, the sixty-something self-proclaimed stage mom, looked from her to Sierra, then back again, her expression haughty. "You've got a request. Remember?"

Taking a slow breath, hoping it would temper the anger simmering beneath her skin, James barely managed to keep her tone even when she said, "I'm not on the clock yet."

She always got ready for her shifts in the dressing room at the club. The makeup she wore to lure men into emptying their pockets was elaborate and eye-catching… and would lead to questions from her neighbors she didn't want to answer. Most of them were old as hell and would absolutely judge her for the way she chose to make her money. And she’d hate to have to tell them all to kiss her ass.

"I don't fucking care. You're here. That means you're working." Lynne held the door open wide. "Come on. Get your skinny ass out there."

James gritted her teeth. As the youngest of her sisters, everyone always assumed she was the sweetest. The baby. The one who was doted on and sheltered into docility and meekness.

Nothing could have been farther from the truth, and the nearly uncontrollable desire to scratch Lynne's eyes out showed just how edgy she was becoming in this place.

Yeah. It was time to move on. But she might as well make a few bucks on her way out the door.

"Fine." James stood from the chair she'd occupied for the past hour, yanking at the tie of her own satin robe before letting it slide down her arms and tossing it Sierra's way. "Can you hang that up in my locker?"

"Only if you promise to give Mr. Suit and Tie a kiss for me." Sierra snorted. "But make sure he knows that's extra."

"Mr. Suit and Tie isn’t getting anything he doesn't pay for." James glared down at Lynne as she closed in, angling one eyebrow at the older woman while crowding her space. "Where's the dick who can’t wait?" She wasn't hunting this asshole down. And if he hadn’t sprung for a private room, the twat was about to get an ‘accidental’ heel to his crotch.

"Three." Lynne managed to sound bored through the hint of fear making her shift on her feet.

James smirked, bumping the smaller woman’s shoulder as she passed. “Thanks.”

Authority had always been a bit of a sore spot for her, and Lynne never missed a chance to throw around the tiny scrap of power she had there. In return, James never missed the chance to intimidate the shit out of her.

To be fair, she never missed the chance to intimidate much of anyone. Life was too short to let people think they might be able to walk all over you. While most women in her position filled their bank accounts with money earned from being sweet and flirtatious, hers came from offering a peek at what she really was. The power she carried.

And men ate that shit up. Licked it right off the bottoms of her size-ten feet.

She reached the door to room three and paused, rolling her neck as she tried to shake off everything weighing her down. Jerry and his bullshit. The move she was going to have to make. The past she couldn’t seem to outrun.

After blowing out a long breath, James twisted the knob and opened the door. She made it one step into the room before stopping in her tracks.

Sierra had not been exaggerating. Mr. Suit and Tie was hot as fuck. Maybe even hotter. He was dressed impeccably and expensively from the top of his perfectly groomed sandy blond head down to the scuff-free finish on his cap-toe Oxfords. The man oozed wealth.

And she was a big fan of wealth. Men this pretty were usually huge pains in the ass, but the watch on his wrist cost more than her car and the suit on his well-built body was custom made, so he clearly didn’t mind spending money on himself.

Hopefully he felt the same way about her.

His gray gaze moved down her mostly-naked frame, not even pausing on her bare tits before coming back to her face. “Figures.”

His reaction was… not what she was expecting. At all. “Excuse me?”

Instead of repeating himself, he snapped, “Close the door.”

Here was where things could go one of two ways. She could do as the fancy man told her, or she could be a pain in the ass.

The decision was always the same.

“I don’t think so.” James left the door open and crossed the small room, ready to make her position in this hierarchy perfectly clear. “If you want it closed, you can do it yourself.”

The man shrugged. “Your call. I don’t personally care either way, James.”

There weren’t many things a man could say that would shock her. She’d heard just about every collection of words in existence fall from their lips. Most of them vulgar. But this…

Was a fucking problem.

Without missing a beat, she kicked the door closed with one heavy, acrylic-bottomed stiletto, and advanced on him, the feminine rage that drove nearly every decision she made simmering under her skin. She was on him before he could blink, straddling his lap, her knees pinning his thighs together as one hand closed around his throat, cutting off his airway. “Who the fuck are you?”

No one there knew her name. Not her real one. If she hadn’t already been planning to leave town, this man knowing who she was would have had her packing her bags.

Mr. Suit and Tie opened his mouth, but—thanks to her hand on his throat—nothing came out. He angled a brow at her and waited.

It took an immense amount of willpower to loosen her grip. She leaned down until they were nose to nose as her fingers relaxed. “Don’t make me regret that.” Keeping her hold on his throat, she repeated her question, enunciating each word. “Who. Are. You?”

“Phillip Foster.” He stretched both arms across the back of the black faux leather loveseat he sat on, looking unbothered by the venom in her voice and the hand still poised to snuff him out. “Your sisters hired me to find you and bring you home.”