Page 3 of James (Big Northwest #6)

CHAPTER THREE

JAMES

A DJUSTING THE BAG slung over one shoulder, James pulled up the hood of her well-worn sweatshirt, making sure it covered her hair and as much of her face as possible before ducking into the back door of The Secret Garden. It was technically too hot for the thing, but a necessary evil for flying under the radar.

She’d planned to quit the day Phillip Foster showed up, but learning she’d been found by her sisters meant a diversion from her regularly scheduled programming. Normally when it was time to pack up and get out of town, she moved an hour away, maybe two. That wasn’t going to be an option this time.

She had to get far enough from Vegas they wouldn’t be able to track her down, which would require a little more fundage than she was used to spending. And that made her nervous.

She decided to squeeze in a few more shifts, pad her bank account a little more by milking Vegas for as much as she could before leaving it in her rearview mirror.

Like she had so many other places.

Unfortunately, every time she came into the club, her chances of running into Jerry were high, so she had to be careful. Strategic. Sneaky.

Luckily, those were all skills she’d learned at an early age and perfected as she’d grown into her own.

Slouching her shoulders and dropping her head—hoping to hide her height—James darted past the club owner’s office. The door was closed, but the dick still seemed to have a sixth sense of when she was close, so she held her breath, praying he wasn’t in.

When she reached the dressing room, she finally exhaled, blowing out the air from her lungs as she hurried to one of the open seats. Dropping her bag onto the counter, she fell into the chair, slumping down in relief.

This was stupid. Even for her. She was playing with fire, and while that was normally right up her alley, the risks were starting to outweigh the rewards. Tonight had to be her last night, so she needed to con as much cash as she could out of the horny idiots waiting to stare at her tits.

Shouldn’t be too tough.

Peeling off her hoodie, she went to work, painting on her makeup and waving her hair. Normally, it took almost an hour to be stage-ready, but the past few days she’d managed to cut the time down to thirty minutes. Necessity was a great motivator.

Once her hair and makeup were done, she shucked her shorts and T-shirt and stepped into the barely existent iridescent thong that served as her ‘costume’. After sweeping a few brushes of shimmering glitter across her shoulders and collarbones, she shot a few sprays of her favorite perfume at her skin and hurried out.

Again, she kept her head down, moving quickly through the halls leading to the main floor. At this point there was no hiding who she was, but speed was her friend. If she was barely a blur of blonde, Jerry might not immediately be able to narrow down the list of possibilities. By the time he realized she was there, her ass would be in the middle of a group of paying customers.

Jerry was a lot of things, but willing to interrupt dumbasses emptying their wallets wasn’t one of them. As long as she made it to the main floor, she’d be fine. She could finish this shift, leave the house its cut, and then get the fuck out of sin city.

The whiny pitch of Jerry’s nasal voice echoing down the hall had her moving faster, putting her at practically a run when she reached the door standing between her and relative safety.

“Rawn.” A hand clamped down on her arm, the power in it way too much for it to belong to her boss.

She went still, refusing to react while pulling in a deep breath, trying to keep her cool. “I need to get out there. My shift is starting.”

The hand at her arm tugged and she allowed it to turn her in place, bringing her face-to-face with Jerry and his goon. Self-restraint had never been her strong suit, but laying both men out here in the hall wasn’t an option. So she fought her instinct to fight, instead plastering on a placid expression.

“Who’s going to be upset if you’re late?” Jerry grinned. “Not your boss.” It was a thinly veiled reminder that the ass believed he held the power in their dynamic.

He didn’t, of course. The only control Jerry had over her was if she wanted to continue working at The Secret Garden. He had the ability to fire her and send her packing. But it was even more evident now her time in Vegas—and therefore her time at The Secret Garden—was over. That left Jerry with nothing in his hand but his sad, limp dick.

He just didn’t know it yet.

“Let’s go somewhere to talk.” Jerry moved in at her side, relieving the bouncer holding her hostage with a flick of his wrist. “Privately.” His sweaty palm came to rest against her lower back, sliding down until she was considering the ramifications of breaking it.

Would someone possibly witness the act? Yes.

Would it be worth it? Also yes.

She was about to reach for his wrist when a group of patrons stumbled through the door behind them, their weaving bodies bumping right into her, Jerry, and the bouncer. Jerry was caught off guard by the collision and lost his balance, toppling over. The bouncer saw it coming and was only knocked back a few feet. James managed to sidestep the mess, but before she could get away, one of the men grabbed her, his hold bruising as he pulled her close.

“Well look what we have here.” His leering face inched closer to hers as his voice dropped low. “Why don’t you come home with me? I’ll make it worth your while.”

“No, thanks.” James twisted her arm, trying to work free of his tattooed grip. “I’m out of your price range.”

The man held firm, his fingers sinking deep enough to bruise as he shoved her against the wall. “No one said I was going to pay you.” His breath was hot against her ear as he leaned close. “I was thinking that if you came quietly I wouldn’t rough you up before I delivered you to the boss.”

The boss ? What the fuck was he talking about?

Her eyes darted around the hall, the full scope of the scene finally registering. One of the men had Jerry against the floor while the other two were taking on the bouncer. They all looked strikingly similar—from what they wore, to the expressions on their faces, to the weird tattoos across the knuckles of their hands.

These weren’t drunk guys who got lost on their way to the bathroom. This was something else. Something she needed to get the fuck away from. Now.

And her options were limited. Mostly to violence. Which was fine. That was her favorite option anyway.

Smiling sweetly, she met the eyes of the man holding her. “That’s a very generous offer.” She let her words sink in for a minute, giving his little brain time to brew up all the possibilities that might be in front of him. Then she lifted one foot, bringing the hefty heel of her shoe down onto his shoe. Hard. “But I’m going to have to pass.”

He released her, howling in pain over at least a couple broken toes, giving her the room to escape.

She spun away, ready to run, but only made it two steps before one of the guys incapacitating the bouncer caught her by the hair.

Her reaction was instinctual. Driven by who she was and what she chose to be.

And before she knew what was happening, the man was on the floor, staring up at her with dead eyes, his neck snapped.

Oops. That was possibly an overreaction.

Her attention jumped to the remaining men, all of them dressed in dark suits. All of them carrying weapons. All of them looking a lot like hit men.

Maybe it wasn’t as much of an overreaction as she initially thought.

Luckily, their buddy laying on the floor seemed to confuse them, affording her the opportunity she’d been seeking. Before they could discover his deadness, she sprinted away, thanking God for her strong ankles and the sturdy straps around them.

Getting away would be nearly impossible without her car, so she had no choice but to race for her bag in the dressing room, snatching it off the counter and her hoodie from the chair, before hauling ass to the exit. She hit the release bar on the metal door without slowing down, the clear soles of her platform stilettos smacking against the hot asphalt as she ran for her car, throwing everything across the seat as she fell behind the wheel and started the engine.

James pulled out of the lot, tires squealing, as the first man broke through the door. He stopped, squared up, and aimed.

Was he really?—

She ducked as the first bullet hit one of her taillights, shoving her foot to the floor as the next two went wide, missing her sedan. The final shot came as she turned, piercing a hole through the back side window before traveling through to the other side.

“Motherfucker.”

She took in the state of her glass-covered back seat then reached down, fighting off the shoe not aiding her escape before chucking it over one shoulder. Shifting around, she pressed her left foot to the gas and wrestled the other heel off, throwing it back with its sister. Checking her rearview for any sign of whoever in the hell just tried to abduct her, she took another quick turn. When no one followed her erratic path, it became slightly easier to breathe. But only slightly.

What. The fuck . Was happening?

Where in the hell had those men come from? Who was their boss and why did he send them after her? There were too many questions and nowhere near enough answers.

That left her with only one solution.

Get the fuck out of town right now. No finding a new place. No packing up all her shit. She was going to have to walk away from everything.

Again.

After taking a few more unnecessary turns, she aimed for her apartment. Nothing from The Secret Garden tied her to the address, but that didn’t mean anything. If they’d found her at work there was the chance they could also find her at home. She had to make this quick.

Taking one more look around to make sure no one was in pursuit, she pulled into the parking garage of her building, slotting her car into the designated spot for her unit before jumping out. She was about to close the door when her state of undress finally registered.

“Fuck me.” James turned, grabbing her hoodie off the seat and pulling it over her head before slamming the door and running barefoot into the building she’d called home for nearly six months.

It was the longest she’d stayed anywhere since leaving Washington, and the place was starting to grow on her. Too bad, since it was about to be one more home she left behind.

Skipping the elevator—getting stuck in a box with one of her elderly neighbors was not how she wanted to spend the next five minutes—James went right for the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time. Thanks to genetics and spending her evenings dancing, she was barely out of breath when she reached the fifth floor.

After taking a second to peek out into the hall through the narrow glass, making sure the coast was clear, she shoved the door open and high tailed it to her unit. Unlocking it was tricky since her hands were still a little shaky, but after a couple tries, the bolt flipped open and she was in.

First stop—pants.

She darted into her bedroom and grabbed the closest pair of shorts from her dresser, jumping into the leg holes on her way to the closet. Holding up the unfastened denim with one hand, she used the other to drag her largest suitcase free. Lifting it onto the bed, she paused to button and zip her fly, then opened the case and started throwing in clothes, focusing on the basics.

After tossing in a pile of socks, she stopped to pull on a pair. Once they were on, she shoved both feet into her favorite sneakers as she collected more items to pack. Bouncing on one foot while she tied the laces on the other, James made her way into the bathroom for toiletries. Grabbing entire drawers, she carried them into the bedroom and dumped all the contents into her bag. It was going to be a fucking mess if anything opened, but not nearly as big of a mess as if those goons caught her here.

Once the bathroom cabinet was cleared out of everything she wanted to take, James grabbed the fireproof box from the closet and opened it up, digging out the stack of documents she guarded with her life and turning to her suitcase. Her eyes flicked between the bag and the papers. The box was big and heavy and screamed ‘here’s all the important shit’, so getting caught with it was not an option.

No one could find these papers. They would lead anyone chasing her right to Shadow Pine, and that would defeat the whole purpose of staying away.

The whole reason she wasn’t with her sisters now.

The damn things should have been in the same safety deposit box that housed her cash and driver’s license, but it hadn’t seemed like a good idea to keep everything in one place. Now it sounded brilliant, That bad decision was one more way she’d been stupid. Foolish and cocky. Refusing to admit she was in over her head.

And her sisters shouldn’t pay the price for the mistakes she’d made.

Walking back to the bathroom, James dropped everything into the sink and grabbed the stick lighter she used for the scented candles scattered throughout her home. With a flick of the switch, everything connecting her to Shadow Pine went up in flames. Making sure nothing else that might catch fire was close, she grabbed a towel and closed the door, stuffing the terrycloth into the gap at the bottom so the smoke wouldn’t set off the fire alarm, sending everyone into a panic.

Her aging neighbors shouldn’t be punished for her stupidity either.

James was back in her bedroom, zipping up the suitcase when the knob of her front door jiggled. The sound was barely audible, but it seemed to echo through the space like a fucking death knell. She turned just as the door started to open and her stomach dropped to her feet.

It was too fucking late. She’d lingered too fucking long. In lots of ways.

Without hesitation, she took off, running straight to the door as a man in a suit stepped through. He only made it a few feet before she was on him, slamming the door closed and his body against it.

The impact was significant and made them both grunt, but the element of surprise she expected was turned back on her when his arms locked around her body and rolled them down the wall. Her back hit the textured plaster as one wide palm curved against the back of her skull, protecting it. She started to fight, working one leg loose with a plan to stick her knee right in the man’s crotch, but a familiar voice stalled her efforts.

“Relax, James. It’s me.” Phillip leaned back so she could see his face, his lips curved in a smile. “Glad to see you’re as vicious as ever.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” She was still salty about the way he’d walked out a week ago, leaving her wound up and unfulfilled. But it seemed like she wasn’t the only one unfulfilled.

Her eyes dipped down their fronts, where his hard body pressed into hers.

And it was hard. All of it.

“Do you seriously have a boner right now?” The more important question was, why was the possibility making her throb in very inconvenient places?

Also, what the fuck was he doing in her apartment? It said a lot about her that his breaking and entering was an afterthought, but whatever.

“We can talk about that later.” Phillip stepped back, releasing her. “First, we need to get the fuck out of here. There’s a whole group of questionable looking men probably coming up the elevator as we speak.” His eyes fixed on her face. “And I’m pretty sure they’re not here for a social visit.”