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I picked up my phone, opened my PayPal account, and gasped when I saw the amount. My sister had sent me twenty-five thousand dollars. What. The. Hell.
“I can’t accept this.”
“You will,” she replied firmly. “Pay off that car and stop stressing about your rent. Now you’ve got time to find a job you want instead of waitressing and relying on tips to get by.”
Shit. I bit my lip, trying not to cry. “Sadie. This is too much.”
“It’s nothing to me. I want you to take it. It’ll give you a whole year to figure out what you want to do and find the right job for your career.”
She was right. Eighteen thousand would pay my rent for a year, and another three would pay off my car. That left four for food and utilities, and that’s if I stopped working or didn’t do anything else on the side.
“You’re going to make me cry,” I finally blurted, blinking as a few tears escaped. “Thank you.”
She reached over and hugged me. “You worked your ass off for that degree. I want you to be happy, Callie. You deserve it.”
Hugging her back, I squeezed a little too tight. “I love you, sis.”
“Love you too, more than anything.”
I leaned back, swiping under my eyes to get rid of the tears. “So, tell me what’s going on.”
Sadie held the mug in two hands, taking a long sip before she set the cup down. “Mayor Elliot Goodman has become one of my regular clients, and he’s . . . clingy.”
Blink. Blink.“The Henderson Mayor? Like where we live?”
“Yes.” She snorted at my response. “Clingy probably isn’t the right word.” She bit her lip, staring off into space for a few seconds. “Obsessed is more accurate.”
“That sounds dangerous,” I observed.
“You have no idea.” She finished her coffee and rose, refilling the mug and adding more Cinnabon creamer. “He’s manipulative and demanding, pushing me to drop my other clients. He wants a personal escort at his beck and call, ready to fuck him or do his bidding any moment of the day.”
“Screw that!” I exclaimed, pushing my mug aside. “Tell me you didn’t agree to it.”
“Of course not.”
“Okay. Good.”
“But he’s not taking it well,” she replied carefully.
“What does that mean? You said you think someone is trying to kill you. Who? The freaking mayor?”
She swallowed hard. “I haven’t been truthful with you, not for a long time. Three years, to be exact.”
Frowning, I had no idea what she meant. “What are you telling me?”
“I’m not really an escort. Never have been, sis.”
Confused, I didn’t know what to say.
“I’ve been undercover all this time.”
“Undercover?” What the hell did that mean?
“I got picked up for soliciting and prostitution three years ago when I was first hired as an escort. The feds were trying to shut down an international trafficking ring and knew the DOLL Agency was intimately connected.”
“Wow,” I whispered, shocked. “You never said a word.”
How could she keep a secret like that and not tell me?
