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Edward stood at her side with her skirt crumpled in his fist and that old-man worried look on his face. Something inside her felt as if it were breaking. She would sacrifice anything, everything, to keep him safe.
Her voice sounded as old and rusty as her Impala. "Please, Bonner. I need a break." She paused, hating herself for begging. "I'll do anything."
He slowly lifted his head, and as those pale-silver eyes flicked over her, she was conscious of her wild hair and dirty dress. She experienced something else—an intense awareness of him as a man. She felt as if she'd come full circle right back to the Dominion Motel. Right back to six days ago.
His voice was low-pitched, almost inaudible. "I seriously doubt that."
He was a man who cared about nothing, yet something hot and dangerous filled the air. There was no lechery in his gaze as he studied her, but at the same time, a primal alertness in the way he was watching her told her she was wrong. There was, indeed, at least one thing that he cared about.
A feeling of inevitability came over her, a sense that all the battles she had fought had led to this moment. Her heart slammed into her ribs, and her mouth felt like cotton. She had fought destiny long enough. It was time she gave up the struggle.
She drew her tongue over her dry lips and kept her eyes nailed to Gabriel Bonner. "Edward, sweetie, I have to talk to Mr. Bonner in private. You go over and play on that turtle."
"Don't want to."
"No arguments." She turned away from Bonner long enough to lead Edward toward the door. When he was outside, she gave him a shaky smile. "Go on, pug. I'll be over to get you before long."
He moved away reluctantly. Her eyes began to sting with tears, but she wouldn't let a single one fall. No time. No point.
She drew the doors of the snack shop closed, twisted the lock, and turned to face Bonner. She forced her chin high. Fierce. Haughty. Let him know she wasn't anybody's victim. "I need a regular paycheck, and I'll do whatever it takes to get it."
The sound he made might have been a laugh, except it was as devoid of amusement as a scream. "You don't mean that."
"Oh, I mean it." Her voice cracked. "Scout's honor."
She lifted her fingers to the buttons on the front of her dress, even though she had nothing on beneath but a pair of blue nylon panties. Her small breasts didn't justify the expense of a bra.
One by one, she opened the buttons while he watched.
She wondered if he was married. Considering his age and overwhelming masculinity, the odds were strong. She could only breathe a silent apology to the faceless woman she was injuring.
Although he'd been working, there were no dark rings under his fingernails, no half-moons Of sweat staining his shirt, and she tried to feel grateful that he was clean. His breath wouldn't reek of greasy onions and bad teeth. Still, an inner alarm warned her she would have been safer with Clyde Rorsch.
His lips barely moved. "Where's your pride?"
"I'm fresh out." The last of the buttons gave way. She slipped the soft blue chambray dress from her shoulders. With a soft whish, it dropped around her ankles.
His empty silver eyes took in her small, high breasts and the ribs that showed so plainly beneath. Her low-cut panties didn't conceal either the sharpness of her hipbones or the faint stretch marks that showed above the elastic.
"Put your clothes back on."
She stepped out of the dress and made herself walk toward him, clad only in her panties and sandals. She held her head high, determined to keep her dignity intact.
"I'm willing to work a double shift, Bonner. Days and nights. No man you hire is going to do that."
With grim resolve, she reached out and cupped his arm.
"Don't touch me!"
He jerked away as if she'd struck him, and his eyes were no longer empty. Instead, they darkened with a rage so profound that she took a quick step backward.
He snatched up her dress and shoved it at her. "Put it on."
Defeat curled her shoulders. She had lost. As her hand caught the soft blue fabric, her eyes found the photo of G. Dwayne Snopes staring at her from the purple flyer curling on the wall.
Sinner! Harlot!
She slipped into her dress while Bonner made his way to the doors and unlocked them. But he didn't push them open. Instead, he planted his hands on his hips and bent his head. His shoulders rose and fell as if he were breathing hard.
