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“He’ll unload the whole place for ninety grand,” I said. This was pocket change to Devon—and to me, now. We exchanged a look. “But that’s not all. I started wondering, if he’s docking all of these women’s pay, what is he using the money for? Not his rent, obviously—he’s not paying that either. So where the hell is the money going?” I looked at them. “So I had my investigator dig. This Trent guy lives in a low-rent apartment he inherited from his parents. He doesn’t have any alimony or child support payments. He doesn’t have any big debts on the books. He doesn’t gamble that my guy could find, or go on trips, and he isn’t supporting some rich girlfriend. We couldn’t find where the money was going, but we could see everywhere that it isn’t going. So what does that tell you?”
Devon nodded, following where I was going immediately. “Drugs,” he said.
“It has to be,” I agreed.
In the darkness, Devon laughed a low laugh. “There’s nothing I love more than putting a drug dealer out of business.”
After he’d inherited his money, some drug dealers from Devon’s past had tried to blackmail him to pay up by threatening Olivia. Devon had responded by wiping most of them out in one of the city’s biggest-ever busts. It wasn’t permanent, of course—these guys were like rats—but still, it was a pretty doomed lowlife dealer who crossed paths with Devon Wilder.
Ben finished his beer and tossed the empty bottle into the garbage-filled pool. “I’m in,” he said. “I live for this shit.”
“We’ll split the building,” Devon said, looking at me. “Give me a day and I can get it done. I want to do it for Olivia. She’s going to be upset when she hears what her sister’s been through. And then we’ll take care of the rest.”
I drained my own beer and tossed the bottle, hearing it smash in the empty pool. I didn’t want to go to bed yet, alone in my apartment, wondering if Gwen had followed my instructions tonight and turned down any stripping gigs. “Okay,” I said.
Devon was watching me. “You’re going to a lot of trouble for someone you just met by accident and won’t talk about,” he said.
I decided I owed him at least a little truth. “We have a thing,” I said.
That made him laugh. “You think? You both looked shocked as hell at the theater the other night. You have a thing, and you didn’t even know her last name?”
“No last name?” Ben whistled. “Nice.”
“It didn’t come up,” I said, and winced, looking at Devon’s expression. “It isn’t like me, I know. It just sort of happened.” And it keeps happening, I thought. Unless she’s done with me.
“Well, I like it,” Devon said. “Gwen doesn’t need some wimpy-ass guy, which according to Olivia is the kind of guy she usually dates. She makes them jump through hoops to get anywhere near her. Looks like you’ve already passed that test.”
“Don’t be so sure,” I said. “I pretty much piss her off.”
“Fine with me,” Devon said, getting up. “Just give me a warning so I can take cover when the fireworks start.”
Chapter 17
Gwen
By Monday, I felt better than I had in as long as I could remember. Maybe ever.
I’d spent the weekend doing something crazy: almost nothing. I’d slept, and watched Netflix, and ate whatever I wanted. I took long baths and did my nails and thought about maybe going out to shop, and then I went to sleep again.
And I stayed dressed. I wore whatever I wanted, which turned out to be the same yoga pants and sweatshirt for both days. I left my thongs and high heels and skimpy costume dresses in a pile in the corner, and I didn’t look at them.
Max was right. I hated my fucking job. It was time to quit. I never wanted to do it again. There had to be a way.
I thought about it as I stood in front of the bathroom mirror after my shower on Monday morning. I looked at my body through the mist for a long time, trying on the idea of not stripping anymore. Of my body as just mine, instead of a way to make a living. I could wear underwear that covered my whole ass, and no bra. I could stop waxing between my legs, let the hair grow in. I could eat pizza and gain five pounds. Ten. As long as I liked my body, what the hell would it matter?
I liked the idea—so much, it scared me.
I’m done, I thought, looking at my body, running my hands over my hips. No one ever has to look at my body again, except me.
And then, the inevitable next thought: And Max.
Max didn’t care what I wore, nor would he care if I gained ten pounds. My ass had been red until Sunday morning. A man with that much passion wouldn’t care if I went up a dress size. Actually, he’d probably fuck me harder.
That, I thought, feeling my blood pump hot beneath my skin. I want that. It was exhilarating, and terrifying. I hadn’t wanted anything in a long time, because the last time I had, it had been taken away from me.
I put on jeans and a t-shirt and called Olivia. “Hey,” I said when she answered. “Are you at work? Want to do lunch? We can include wine. No, scratch that—let’s just do the wine.”
“I worked an exhibit Saturday night, so I have today off,” she said, referring to the art gallery she worked for. “And you’re in a good mood.”
