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Drey was about as tall as Hunter, but not nearly as built. I liked my guys big. There was something about big, strong arms wrapping around me. Not that I had that much…at least much longer than a couple of hours at a time, but still. I could dream, and I could dreambig.Drey’s arms would do fine.
This guy rubbing his hand along my spine was thinner, maybe a runner or something. Tall, but thin and lean.
“It’s a rum and coke,” he said, nudging closer the drink he’d set before me.
His dark eyes widened, and then a smile curved his full lips. Yeah, those lips could take me places. But dang it, cologne—I coughed—that was Old Spice.
And that was unacceptable.
So much for getting high today. Then again, it was barely after noon, so my choices were slim.
“You expect me to take a drink from a stranger? Can we sayroofietrap? I must have idiot lipsticked across my forehead.”
“Come on, baby.”
I slouched, concentrating on my empty glass as if I could magically make some booze appear in it. I was buzzed, but not enough to get to sleep. If I wasn’t in a drunken stupor I dreamed. And dreaming… not an option.
Too many nightmares.
Hell, I shouldn’t even sleep, but a human could go only so long without some rack time.
“Well, since you called mebaby.” I hated that word. I’d heard that more than I should have my entire existence as a sex slave. And it was usually surrounded by sex and nasty smelling breath. Some body odor, too. Guys didn’t take care of themselves when they knew they didn’t have to impress a “sure thing.”
But they paid well. At least they paidNicco. He kept me locked up…I shook my head.No. I got away from that. I’m…free.
Rough fingers curled around my arm, right above my elbow, and I closed my eyes.One, two, three.
“I see you around. Flirting like a whore. You—”
I spun on the barstool and rammed my palm into his chin. “Get your hands off me.”
Hunter was on us in the next breath, almost like he appeared with a mere thought.
“Problem?” he asked, holding the guy up by the arm. Hunter towered this weasel by almost a foot.
“Fucking tease. You—”
“Are leaving,” Hunter said as he turned around, taking this guy with him as if he weighed no more than a rag doll.
“You okay, girl?” Gabriella asked.
“Better if you get me another drink. Sam’s being a jerk.”
“You have some nice moves, chica.” She sat beside me. I so didn’t want to chat. Drink. I needed to drink. “Where’d you learn those?”
Oh, let’s see. Six years forced to whore yourself out to disgusting pigs for little to no pay, little to no food, little to no…anything. You tend to pick up a few moves along the way. Only you had to be very careful how you used them, or the punishment was way worse than the weird sex acts some of those tricks asked me to perform.
But I didn’t say that. “Self-defense classes.”
“Oh, Hunter’s?”
“Yep.” It wasn’t a total lie. I’d learned tons from him—at least the correct and more efficient way to defend myself. What’d I’d learned at the sex house was from life experience.
Since I lived my life looking over my shoulder, honing my fighting skills was a priority.
“So, you going to get me another drink or what?”
“Sorry, chica. I’m with Sam on this one. You’ve had enough. You’re not even working tonight. Why are you here?”
