Page 8 of Midnight’s Captive (Stroke of Midnight #2)
Taryn stared at the spreadsheet in front of her. She’d opened it an hour ago, intending to get some bookkeeping done. That hadn’t happened.
What the hell was going on? She didn’t get distracted, especially not when it came to the bar. Her focus on Razor Jack’s was legendary.
Her knee jiggled. Why was she so damn antsy? She only felt this way when she was planning a rescue. Giselle was here, safe, so that wasn’t it.
She’d been restless all morning. Could be lack of sleep. After Dani had told her about her interaction with Ash after their meeting, it had taken Taryn too damn long to convince the other woman that, most likely, he’d only intended a tip when he offered her the credit chip.
Her best friend and first rescue had calmed down and regretted not taking the money. Taryn shook her head. Dani should know better—when someone handed you money, you put it in your pocket and said thank you. Still, she understood Dani’s reaction. The years on the street had left scars on both of them.
Between the proffered tip and the pile of credit chips he’d left with Taryn, Ash Cutter had been throwing money around all night. This morning she’d scanned the chips—they were all either unregistered or tied to names that weren’t his.
When Taryn had finally crawled into bed last night, she couldn’t get the man off her mind. Who the hell was Ash Cutter? And what the hell had he and his sister done to bring the Tremaine Corporation down on them?
“Screw it.” She closed the document and shoved away from her desk. Bookkeeping wasn’t happening today, at least not right now. A few minutes later, she strolled into the kitchen tucked into the bar’s living quarters. “Hey, ladies.”
Six young women turned toward her. Five called casual greetings.
Giselle, the sixth, sat frozen, a piece of toast loaded with butter and jelly raised halfway to her mouth.
The fear in her eyes pissed Taryn off. Her hands clenched and she wished Giselle’s pimp were here in front of her so she could take her anger out on him. But he wasn’t and Giselle needed a gentle hand. Needed to know that Taryn’s promises of safety weren’t a lie.
Taryn smiled gently, not wanting to scare the new girl further. It didn’t seem to help.
Giselle set the toast on her plate and stiffly sat back in her chair.
Dammit. Last night, Giselle had acted like the girls Taryn had seen who thrived in their new lives.
Turning away from the table, she poured a cup of coffee. There was no way she could deal with a scared and abused teenager without caffeine.
She raised the cup and closed her eyes, inhaling the rich aroma. God, that was good. Out in the bar, she charged an arm and a leg for this stuff. Back here, rich delicious coffee was unlimited.
These living quarters were her home and she tried to share that sense of belonging with the women she took in from the streets. This space was the first stop on a long journey. From the very start, she wanted their lives here to be better than what they’d come from. To Taryn, good coffee helped with that.
So did abundant healthy food, new clothes, and a private room with a small bathroom and a door that locked from the inside.
She sipped in silence. The dark, earthy flavor awakened her taste buds, while the caffeine filled the empty places in her soul.
Sip and savor.
Then again.
Finally, she felt ready for the conversation she knew was coming.
Taryn turned back to the table and grabbed an empty chair. She flipped it around and sat with her arms wrapped around the chair back, cradling her coffee. She made introductions between Giselle and the other women who were staying in the back rooms.
Giselle stared at Taryn. “You’re the Jack?”
Taryn sighed and nodded. “You can call me Taryn.”
“Is that your name?”
“Yes, that’s my name.” The only piece of her past she’d hung on to.
Her pimp had loved her name. It sounded exotic and he’d charged more because of it. The Jack—the previous Jack—had called her a lot of things, but not usually her name. She’d used that distance to help her reclaim her name, her sense of self.
Only years of barricading those thoughts away allowed Taryn to hide her shudder. She didn’t want Giselle to think she was bothered by anything she chose to tell her.
“Why did you take me last night?” She sounded so young.
The other girls around the table quieted. Every time a new girl asked the question, the rest listened intently, waiting to see if Taryn had a different reason than the one she’d given each of them. Each girl had a different story. Some Taryn had seen on the streets or huddling in a corner of the bar. Others like Giselle had been brought to the Jack’s attention by other prostitutes.
But the reason she helped them was always the same.
“Because you needed help. And because I thought you could survive that help.” Rescue wasn’t for the fainthearted.
“What if I hadn’t?”
Taryn never answered that question. Never would. These girls didn’t need to know how ruthless she could be. Would be. Taryn protected what was hers. If someone didn’t want to be here or caused trouble... well, she handled that, too.
“Not something we need to worry about, right?” Taryn watched Giselle’s reaction, waiting for the girl’s slow nod.
“Later today a doctor will be stopping by. A lady doctor,” Taryn added before Giselle could panic. “She’ll take a look at your wound and make sure everything looks good.”
“Do I have to?” Giselle asked.
“Yeah,” Taryn said. “I’m not a doctor and it’s better to have a professional take a look. She visits every couple weeks—or sooner if we need her.”
It looked like Giselle was about to argue again. “You can have me or one of the other girls stay with you during the appointment if you want.”
She held the teenager’s gaze until she sighed and nodded reluctantly.
Changing the subject, Taryn gestured around the kitchen. “Help yourself to anything in the kitchen at any time, unless it has someone’s name on it. Most everything is communal, but every once in a while, someone gets territorial.”
She turned to one of the other girls. “Would you show Giselle around and give her the rest of the rundown?”
When the other girl agreed, Taryn excused herself. “Business calls.”