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Page 6 of Midnight’s Captive (Stroke of Midnight #2)

Their exit from the motel had gone as planned and the ride back to the bar was uneventful. Once there, it took Taryn almost an hour to get Giselle settled into one of the back rooms. The excitement of the evening had masked Giselle’s fear, but once they slowed down, she was understandably afraid that her pimp would find her.

Taryn didn’t blame her. Escape was hard, often impossible. She’d tried over and over and had the scars to prove it. Only time and support would ease Giselle’s fears.

She stood outside Giselle’s door, waiting for the telltale snick of the lock. There it was.

“Good girl, Giselle,” she murmured. The new girl was smart. That would increase her chances of being one of the ones who made it.

Exhaustion flooded through her. It wasn’t last call yet and she debated about checking in with Dani. No, the bar was in good hands and Taryn was totally drained. Rescues were high stress. Any number of things could go wrong and she had to be prepared for all of them.

She turned down the hallway that led to her room and found Jenna, one of the waitresses, waiting for her.

“That guy’s here.”

“What guy?” Taryn stared at her blankly. It wasn’t a date. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a date. Or anything resembling one.

“The one who wanted to see the Jack. Dani said to let you know.”

“Shit.” Now she remembered him. The cute corporate drone who had been savvy enough to be aware of the Jack, but not who the Jack was. “He came back?”

Jenna shook her head. “He never left.”

Fuck. She was so damn tired. Official meetings with the Jack required all her focus. Taryn forced a smile. “Give me fifteen minutes to clean up then bring him to the office.”

“Will do.”

Jenna turned to go and Taryn put a hand on her arm to stop her. “If you could get me a coffee, too, that would be amazing.”

With her coffee in hand and the first gulps of caffeine hitting her system, she studied the man on the other side of her desk. Dark hair that gleamed in the brighter lights of her office. Boring clothes that didn’t improve with better lighting. But it was his eyes that caught her attention. Gray eyes that held pools of shadow. She pegged him for about her age, but the dark circles under his eyes made him look older.

He’d blurted “You’re the Jack?” when Jenna let him into her office and he’d continued to study her when she’d nodded. He hadn’t said anything else after that.

Taryn wanted this over with so she could get to bed. She leaned back in her chair, enjoying the way it conformed to her body. “What is it you think the Jack can help you with?”

Supplicants to the Jack usually came in one of two types: those who wept and begged and those who demanded. The man before her did neither. He didn’t even fidget.

The visitor’s chair was intentionally uncomfortable, intended to remind those who sat there that she had the power, not them. It hadn’t been Taryn’s idea—the chair was a carryover from the previous Jack, and maybe even the ones before him. Taryn had only kept it because it worked.

When he finally spoke, it was something she could never have imagined. “Free my sister from the Tremaine Corporation.”

“Oh, is that all?” The sarcasm slipped out because she was tired and her defenses were down. But since this man had no experience with her as the Jack, he likely wouldn’t recognize how unusual, how out of character that was.

He was the second Tremaine employee to cross her path in the last several weeks. Most corporate types avoided this part of town. For him to be here... Her gut said something was up with that company, something more than just the new CEO. Could she use this to her advantage?

“That’s a big ask.”

He nodded.

“Big asks don’t come cheap.” She watched him closely. Was this a trap?

“I realize that. Can you do it?” His voice was strained, a crack in his cool facade. There it was—this was personal.

Or maybe that was her imagination. He was a cool customer.

Could she do it? Probably, but drawing the attention of a corporation wasn’t something she did lightly.

She didn’t know much about the inner workings of a multinational like the Tremaine Corporation. Whispers said that there was a way to buy out a contract. Dizzie, a Tremaine courier who had used the Jack’s services, had definitely been working toward that. Personally, Taryn thought it was just for show. Letting people go wasn’t in the best interest of the company.

“If you have enough money to purchase my services, surely you have enough to buy out her contract.” Taryn watched him closely.

He flinched and lifted a hand to the back of his neck. He stopped halfway, clenched his hand into a fist and dropped it back into his lap. “That’s the problem. She doesn’t have a contract.” He paused, stared at his hand. “She is the contract.”

“Well, shit.” The words whooshed out, tiredness once again getting in the way of her self-control.

“Yeah, that about sums it up.” He laughed bitterly.

“How did that happen?”

He met her gaze, unflinching. “Does that matter?”

“If you want my help, then yes, I expect you to answer my questions.” That was a hard line.

“She got caught in the middle.”

That was a non-answer if she ever heard one. She’d let him finish, but Taryn couldn’t see a reason to help him out. She wouldn’t go up against a corporation on vague answers. “I assume because she’s the contract, your sister can’t leave Tremaine Corporation on her own.”

He laughed, a bitter, angry sound. “Correct.”

“Is she in prison?”

He shook his head.

Taryn set her coffee cup aside, then leaned forward, elbows on the desk. He watched her every move and she didn’t speak until she had his full attention. “I don’t have time to play twenty questions, Mr. Jackson. If you’re going to waste my time, you can leave.”

“Cutter.”

“Cutter what?”

“My name is Ash Cutter. Not Eli Jackson.”

Before escorting him to Taryn’s office, Jenna had pulled the name from the credit chip he’d left at the bar. Another lie. Another strike against helping him.

She had to admit, though, “Ash” suited him better.

“Okay, Ash Cutter. I’m done with the games. Give me details or get out.”

“Will you help me?” He looked slightly panicked.

“I can’t see why I should. You’ve done nothing but play games and waste my time. I should charge you for the last ten minutes.” She was tired, getting a headache. He might be good looking, but he was woefully unprepared.

“You want me to pay? Fine, here.” He stood and dug into his pocket. Pulling out a handful of credit chips, he tossed them on the desk, where they clattered and bounced.

One, two, three, four... A dozen credit chips of various sizes lay before her. “You just wander around with a pocket full of credits?”

Not what she expected from a run-of-the-mill corporate drone. Damn him for getting interesting again.

“Yeah. Don’t you?” he challenged.

Taryn smirked. Of course she did, but she ran a bar in Seattle’s seedy underbelly. She wasn’t beholden to a company like most people were. She didn’t casually swipe her company-issued card to buy things.

She swept the credits up with one hand and dropped them in a drawer. “That should cover our conversation tonight.”

It didn’t matter how much they were worth. She didn’t need his money. She’d take it—she wasn’t crazy. The chips could be blank, but he had to know that was a bad idea. She’d never help him rescue his sister if they were worthless.

“So, you’ll help?”

He was persistent. “Oh no. I haven’t agreed yet. You’ve bought yourself another meeting.” She smiled across the desk at him. The one that had made men in his position cry. He stood his ground. “Set something up at the bar on your way out. They’ll let me know. Daryl will show you out.”

“I need an answer now,” he insisted.

Taryn stood and looked at him with a mix of pity and exasperation. “Think very carefully about what you just said. You won’t like my answer if you insist on having it tonight.”

Her office door opened and he didn’t have time to respond before Daryl stepped in. Her guard looked at Ash and sneered.

Ash braced his hands on the desk and leaned over it. Taryn watched him, curious if he would threaten or beg. Despite her initial read, he was just like everyone else.

“I will convince you to help me. I’ll do whatever it takes to get my sister out of Tremaine’s hands.”

“I’ll give you another chance to convince me, Ash,” she drawled his name, enjoying the way it rolled off her tongue, “but you’d best be much better prepared.”

Very few people understood that this truly was a business. She may not run it exactly the way the previous Jack had, but she did run it just as carefully. Sob stories didn’t move her. Cold hard cash did. Stories didn’t protect her or the women she rescued. Money did.

She watched him, saw him struggle not to respond. Ash didn’t move for a long second, long enough that Daryl looked at her, a question in his eyes. She waved him off.

“Fine. I’ll see you later.” Ash turned and left the room.

Taryn admired the view until Daryl closed the door behind both of them.

Ash Cutter was interesting enough to earn another meeting. It didn’t hurt that he was hot. Too bad neither were reason enough to help him. She had her hands full as it was.