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“Seventeen,” he replies.
I arch an eyebrow, glancing at him. “I knew you were young, but not that young,” I say.
He sits up a little. “I’m not young,” he says, and the way his voice sounds, I know he’s lived far more than a regular seventeen-year-old.
“No, I guess this life has a way of making us all old.”
We finally pull up at the run-down motel, the only one I could afford to put her up at for nights on end, and I’m out of the car, banging on her door with Fernando at my side. She opens the door a crack with the chain still attached, and once she sees us, she’s quick to shut it and unlock it fully.
“Wryn?” she asks, confusion marring her face as she looks between us. “Fernando?”
“Pack up. I’m breaking you out of here,” I tell her.
It takes her a moment for what I said to register, but then she beams at me and opens the door wider to let us in. I sink onto the bed as she rushes around, gathering the small amount of belongings she has. Fernando takes her bag from her as soon as she has it zipped up and takes it to the car.
“I got you a job.”
“You did? He’s not making me go back to Chicago?”
“No, not right now,” I say, and I see her smile fall a bit. I can’t lie to her and tell her everything is all right. I know that Connor wasn’t very forthcoming with his agreement. It seemed more temporary to him than permanent. “But I’m working on you being able to stay with us for as long as you want.”
Her smile starts to come back. “What will I be doing?”
“Working in the kitchen with Brigette. You’ll get a weekly paycheck, and you can start saving up for the life you deserve.”
Francesca throws her arms around me, pulling me in for a hug, and I return it. It’s nice to be needed, to do something for someone else. To help save her when I couldn’t save Ruby. Even if only for a short while.
“Come on,” I say, pulling back and grabbing her hand. “Let’s go home.”
4
CONNOR
“What brings you here in the middle of the day?” Dahlia asks, taking a seat across from me at the small table.
I stare at the owner of the gentleman’s club that I haven’t been in since the night I was told I had to find a wife. The smell hasn’t changed much, still thick with smoke and body odor. It’s disgusting, and I wonder why the other four men and even my father ever wanted to spend time here.
Then, a woman walks by, dressed only in a thong and two pasties with tassels on the ends, and I’m reminded of their character and why they might want to hang out here rather than at home with their wives.
“Can I find you a girl?”
I shift my attention back to her, taking in her smirk and raised eyebrows.
I envision Wryn’s angry eyes fastened on me right now and then clear my throat.
“No, I’m here for business, not pleasure,” I tell her, leaning back and crossing my ankle over my knee.
My chair is sideways, the armrest touching the edge of the table, and so is Dahlia’s. She lights up a long cigarette in a holder, one of those fancy contraptions they used in the ’20s, and she crosses her robe-clad legs, causing one side of it to fall open and expose her bare skin.
She’s not an ugly woman on the outside, but she’s ruthless on the inside, and the thought of lying with her makes my skin crawl. The thought of anyone but Wryn right now makes my skin crawl. Then, that thought gives me pause.
“I’m all ears,” she says, blowing smoke out, and we both watch it curl toward the ceiling.
“I need … discretion,” I say cautiously.
She turns her head to look at me, her eyes alight with curiosity. “I’m a master of discretion,” she says with a wink.
“The night of the charity gala, I want the whole club.”
